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viennakarma · 5 months

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Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her.

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around.

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders.

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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burning-omen · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1: Breeding + Jason Todd

Jason Todd x male reader

Kinktober 2023 list | Day 2 | Ao3

(a/n; “hey it's September 30th, right? Tf you mean ‘it's october 1st’ no the fuck it no- AHHHHHH” me about three hours ago realizing that I never finished THE FIRST DAY of kinktober )

Summary: You’re a photographer at the Wayne Family events, after meeting Jason by chance they start growing closer

Warning: Horny Jason, horny reader, top!reader, bottom!jason, Jason moans like a bitch, rude rich people, pillow princess + brat Jason Todd, unprotected sex, breeding, not beta read lol.

Word count: 3.4k

To the shock of everyone involved, Jason Todd attended all of the Wayne Galas, not because he liked them- obviously. No, these things were horrible and stuffy and he hated every last person in attendance. Well, almost every last person. Bruce had hired a photographer a few months back, the first few events that you photographed you were mostly in the background, taking wide shots of the entire party, only recently did you start to mingle with the crowd more.

You met Jason a few weeks back as you tried to navigate through a pushy crowd of rich people who, to no one surprise, all thought they were the most important person there. You got pushed into Jason by a man who looked like he could have been British royalty in the 1800s, he sneered at you like a cartoon villain before walking away. You'd been overly apologetic that day, having nearly knocked the drink out of his hand. He was fine though, if not slightly enamored, you looked nice, but out of place, your clothes weren't quite up to Wayne Gala standards, before he could ask what you were doing here, he noticed the camera hanging from your neck, and offered to be your guide.

He ended up sticking with you for the rest of the night, talking as you took pictures of various people and decor around the event. It made your job a hell of a lot easier, people were quick to bump into you, you weren't rich and therefore weren't fully human to these people, but Jason was one of them, well, he was close enough, and even if he wasn't, if he was just as out of place as you, nobody was going to disrespect the host's son.

By the end of the night, you and Jason were on one of the balconies looking over all the photos from that night, and eventually some of your other work.

Eventually, you did have to leave, Bruce was paying for your ride and you really didn't want him to have to wait any longer.

You only got closer after that, every event that the Waynes hosted, you were there, and on your tail- as always- was Jason.

Your relationship didn't take a turn until the last party the Wayne through, this one wasn't a charity but a birthday party for Bruce's friend, Oliver Queen, who insisted he needed to have it in Gotham. And even though Bruce gave a perfect speech regarding their friendship, you couldn't help but hear the irritation behind it. The night went on as usual, with Jason acting as your shadow as you weed through the crowd.

Your end of the night ritual is the only thing that changed, as you were showing Jason the pictures from tonight, he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, an odd act from the man, considering the most he'd touched you at this point was him putting a hand on your shoulder or tapping you to get your attention.

“Tired?” you asked jokingly.

“No,” he said but didn't elaborate.

As you continued to shuffle through the pictures you could feel him nuzzling into your neck. You let out a short, nervous laugh.

“Are you drunk?”

He hummed quietly, then laughed, “No, I'm just…”

He didn't continue, just pressing further into you, you gave up on showing him the photos for now, instead carding your fingers through his hair. Feeling just how different the white streak felt from the rest of his hair, most of his hair was thick and smooth, running through your fingers with ease. The white part was thick too, but it just felt like air, so light and delicate that you could barely feel it against your fingers.

You didn't stop until you felt his lips press against your neck, again and again as he hummed in contempt.

“Jason…” you muttered but didn't move to stop him.

He eventually moved up to your face- your cheeks, your jaw, your lips- with his kisses. It was only when you made a move and kissed him back did things escalate.

You ended up fumbling around on the floor with him, then in the hall, and on the wall next to his bedroom wall, and eventually in his bedroom. Which resulted in the most embarrassing walk of shame you've ever experienced as you had to run past your literal boss having breakfast with the rest of his family- he looked just as shocked as you imagined he would. Jason's older brother, Dick, made a comment that made Jason shout at him, you couldn't hear it with how hard your heart was beating in your ears.

You expected everything to end after that, your friendship with Jason, your job, your reputation as a photographer.

But to your surprise, the moment the front door closed behind you, Jason grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss, sweet and slow, nowhere near as frantic and lust-filled as they were the night before.

You started getting together outside of events after that, he stayed at your apartment most days, because ‘he liked being surrounded by you’. You learned a few things about him too, a big one being that he was a bottom, not just a bottom. A total pillow princess as well. He’ll flirt and tease all day and night long, but the moment you turn around to do the same to him, he becomes so pliant, letting you move him how you like, touch him how you liked, and fuck him how you liked.

Considering how close you'd become with his son, you figured you'd never get a call from Bruce to do another job. But you did, and despite feeling a bit out of place at first you eventually got back into it. Jason was your shadow as always, whispering things he definitely shouldn't in your ear, making it hard to focus.

“When was the last time we fucked, honestly?”

“Babe, I'm working,” you said calmly.

“It’s a genuine question.”

You sighed, “about a week ago, when the power went out.”

He only chuckled, still leaning down in you ear.

“There’s gotta be a broom closet somewhere around here-”

“Jason, stop it-”

“I want you to fuck me right up against the door, let everybody hear me while you-”

“Jason-”

“Jason!”

Looking over you saw Dick, who was probably the most outwardly supportive of your relationship with Jason out of everyone in his family. The presence of his brother shut him up quickly, his face turning a bit red. You and Jason wandered around the party with Dick for a while, you were having a great time, taking photos as Dick told to funny little stories about Jason.

Jason, however, wasn't having a great time. He’d planned to flirt with you all night then get fucked so hard that his brain stopped working, then getting pampered by you for the rest of the night, unfortunately, Dick had taken an interest in you for the night, purely platonic of course, but it was constant, and even though Dick has definitely seen Jason at his worst, it'd be really fucking weird if he begged you to fuck him within earshot of his brother. So he held out, frustrated and horny as the party droned on.

By the time guests started leaving you'd been informed of every little embarrassing thing Jason has ever done- including stealing the wheels off Bruces car, some stories had to be left out or changed for obvious reasons, but outside of that, you were caught up on Jason's embarrassment timeline. You could practically feel Jason stewing behind you, horny, frustrated, and, embarrassed all at once.

“I think it's time for us to go, if we stay any longer Jason's brain is going to start leaking out of his ears.”

You said your goodbyes to Dick and turned to Jason, who was glaring after the man as he walked away.

“We can go now.”

The fumble up to his bedroom was exactly that, a fumble as you clumsily avoided the lingering guest, and as you took a few minutes to worship the exposed pieces of his body on the stairs with your hands and mouth, only moving when you heard footsteps.

You didn't carry Jason into the room, but you might as well have with the way you controlled his every move. He fell back onto his bed, spreading his legs subconsciously even though he was still fully dressed. The smile on his face only grew wider when you yanked him by his now loose tie, pulling him back up to you, pressing a kiss on his lips that only got more heated with every passing second. Kneeling on the bed, his legs wrapped around your waist almost instantly, you could feel the heels of the balmorals Bruce had bought him digging into the back of your thigh.

He pulled back, flopping down on the bed. Jason's hands, however steady they were before, became utterly useless in a matter of seconds as he failed to unbutton his pants several times before giving up, wordlessly resting his hands above his head, staring up at you expectantly. The term ‘pillow princess’ came to mind for a brief second as you unbuttoned them for him. Purposefully ignoring the tight bulge in his pants that was nearly demanding your attention.

“Come on, y/n,” he muttered, his voice as deep as ever.

Slowly rocking his hips against yours in a desperate, yet short lived, attempt at getting you to act. You were by no means cruel, and considering his little plan for the night hadn't fallen through, you indulged him. Lifting his still-clothed thigh up to your shoulder, you had to do a bit of maneuvering to get his pants down to his ankles, Jason was entirely unhelpful, you'd be convinced he was a rag doll if it weren't for his inability to stop fucking squirming.

The way his cock twitched in his pants showed you just how desperate he was, thrusting up against nothing, a short whine coming from somewhere deep in his throat as he started up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

You ran your hands over the exposed skin of his thigh, leaning down and kissing them, leaving little bruises and bites before switching to the next. His gaze was intense, almost glaring, but the whines and whimpers he let out told you that he was just desperate.

Then, unexpectedly, you slid your hand all the way down the inside of his thigh, feeling goosebumps rise in your wake, Jason figured you'd stop just before his cock, you liked teasing him like that, liked taking him apart slowly. But that's apparently not what you had in mind tonight, he only realized that when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, the fabric of his boxers tightened along with your grip. He whined, bucking up into your hand.

Far faster than he expected, you stroked him through his pants, the texture of them and the squeezing pressure your hand provided sending shivers up and down his spine. He gripped the bedsheets as you settled into a pleasant rhythm, fast and tight around his sensitive cock.

His eyes hung low, squeezing shut when you brushed over the tip.

Jason came quickly, hips sputtering and muttering incoherently as he did, cum sleeping through black fabric, drenching your hand and the boxers.

You pulled back, putting your hands back on his thighs, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly as he came down.

Hands still gripping the sheets, he sat there and waited, waiting for you to do something, you were in control after all. But you didn't, you just watched him, his chest rising and falling, cum splattered on his underwear and just under his belly button, the bruises and bites littering his thighs.

“Y/n..” he muttered, hard and horny all over again.

You laughed, “yes?”

He scooted closer to you until you hips were firmly pressed against his ass. Even then, you could here him muttering ‘come on’ over and over against under his breath.

“Speak up, you have to tell me what you want.”

He glared, a real harsh glare that you knew was born out of frustration. He should have known you'd be like this, for a moment he thought he'd really gotten off the hook, but you never just let him cum, you never just fucked him, no, he had to beg for it, as though him presenting himself to you wasn't begging enough.

“Just,” suddenly unable to find his words, Jason groaned, “do something!”

You let out another short laugh, then asked, “Something like what?”

The urge to kick you suddenly immereged.

“Anything, please I-” his hands went from the bedsheets to his face, covering his eyes as his brain once again failed to produce the right words.

You leaned down, pressing kisses down his throat and the pieces of his chest that we're exposed.

After a moment you asked, “How about you tell me what you wanted earlier, you seemed to have a lot of ideas then.”

He shifted, his hands finding the bed again, seems like his mind was racing, as his eyes were almost completely unfocused and blush rose on his cheeks with every second that passed, you gave him a moment to sort himself out.

He spoke suddenly, his voice coming out with some force, “I need you to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, like you did when the power went out and we didn’t have anything else to do but fuck over and over again, I need you to fuck me like that again, I want you to cum in me so many times that it drips out of my ass and ruins the bed- ah- and I- I can’t- I can’t fucking think with you grinding against me like that so can you please just hurry up and do something!”

A wide grin spread out on your face, even though you barely comprehended that you were grinding your bulge into his ass, it was good to see how a bit of gentle pressure was already making him writhe.

You pulled back, before he could stop complaining you flipped the giant of a man onto his stomach with a hard shove. You heard him moan as he bounced against the bed, he liked being manhandled, but you figured that one out a while ago.

Pulling his boxers down to his knees, fully ready to prep him, only to see the familiar shiny glint of lube covering his hole. Without thinking, you pressed a finger in, feeling just how easily he took it you almost laughed.

“You take all the fun out of prepping you..”

“Shut up and fuck me!”

His desperate, panting tone was enough for you to cave, even as he glared back at you. It took you a second to get out of your clothes, well really just your pants, belt, and boxers, but it still took longer than Jason would have ever liked, again, bratty pillow princess of the century.

By the time you let your cock prod against his hole, he'd grabbed a pillow and rested it under his head, still turning to face you as you slowly pushed in. His resolve didn't last long, broken by a long moan as the head of your cock slipped into his hole, already about to thrust a hole into the bed sheets.

You grabbed his hips, pressing them hard into the bed, he stopped moving, an undeniable whimper coming from him.

You pressed further, barely even half way in and you could feel him squeezing around you, you pressed down until your hips were pressed together.

He panted and moaned, his body flexing, then relaxing. You waited for him to give you a sign that he was okay, and when he did you waited more, just to tease him. He realized this a couple of seconds later, dropping his head into the pillow with a frustrated groan, you're surprised he didn't turn around and cuss you out at that exact moment.

Even though you probably shouldn't have, you pulled out slow, and slammed back into him with more force than you meant to, the bed dipped beneath you both and Jason let put a wild moan. You probably should have gone slow with him, made him cum over and over again before filling him yourself, but you didn't, you had a bit of an epiphany while you had Jason fully wrapped around your cock. You were really, really fucking horny. With someone as pretty as Jason it was always so tempting to take him about the slow way, teasing, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of him, but with some that felt as good as Jason does, it's pretty easy to let that idea fly out the window in turn of pounding him into the mattress.

So you did.

Watching him claw and bite at the pillow beneath him in an attempt to bring some stability back. His whole body getting forced forward with every thrust.

Loud, almost pained, moans and the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. Even with the pillow shoved into his mouth he was still impossibly loud. You could feel just how warm he’d gotten, his skin was hot and sweaty, and in your mind, you'd hardly even done anything to him yet.

Little tears prickled in his eyes, he squeezed them closed tightly. Taking your cock wasn't anything new to him but fuck, sometimes you could be rough. Not that he didn't enjoy it, no, if he had less pride he’d be screaming at the top of his lungs how good it felt.

He could already tell where bruises were going to form, he'd have burning red hand prints on his waist for sure, and an odd one on his ass and inner thighs, hickies and smaller bruises would litter practically every surface his body offered for sure.

Leaning down, you thrust hitting deeper and deeper, you kissed along his shoulders and back, trying to soothe at least a little of the hurt you were causing. You didn't but it felt nice anyways.

Jason's vision went a little spotty when he came again, you never stopped fucking him and he really didn't want you to. His cum soaked into the sheets beneath him, he could feel the sticky sheets cling to his stomach.

You followed soon after, shooting cum deep inside of him, just like he wanted. He whimpered quietly at the feeling, he could still feel you fucking him with your softened cock, trusting much slower, much to his dismay. He knew you were just waiting to get hard again but he really didn't like waiting.

It didn't take long for you to get hard again, you were still fully inside your beautiful boyfriend's beautiful ass so it definitely wasn't difficult. You continued pounding into him like nothing happened, he didn't say anything either, other than incoherent word between moans. Even though he didn't have to wait long, he missed you fucking him already.

You slammed into him hard and he went cross-eyed for a moment, letting his moans flow freely, louder and more satisfied than before.

“Right there-” he panted, “again, please-”

You couldn't deny him, not when he begged like that, you angled you hips so you'd slam against that spot again and again until he was staining the sheets for a second, then third time.

He made it too easy to want to fuck him.

His body was nearly limp by his fourth orgasm, you pulled out, he let out a little noise, unable to do much about it. You flipped him onto his back, seeing the mess covering his cock and stomach, his eyes tracked your every move, but not many where made, you ran your hands down his thighs just like you'd found before, then shoved your cock back into his mess of a hole.

You chased your own pleasure, dragging an exhausted Jason along with you for the ride. His hands gripped onto you, pulling you down and holding you tight, letting his airy moans fill your ears.

You came soon after, with him clawing at your back and clinging to you like a damn khola. You stayed inside him for a long moment, waiting for him to remember that he had to let you go.

When he did, you leaned back, watching yourself pull out of him, your cock covered in cum and lube. Cum dripped out of his hole rapidly, a puddle forming and growing on the bed, you laughed, still a bit winded.

“Hey, looks like you got your wish, these sheets are defiantly ruined.”

He laughed tiredly before pulling you back down into his arms.

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 5 months

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Best friends-part 1

Pairing - Rafe Cameron x best friend!reader

Summary - it’s been 2 years since you’ve seen Rafe, he has a gf and a business degree. You are dating his cousin Cooper and still very involved with the Cameron’s.

Warnings- Descriptive sexual assault, mention of domestic Violence, drinking, language. 18+ no minors

Your families had been friends for years, you had grown up with Rafe. He was your best friend, you couldn’t do anything without each other. Your parents would always joke around that the two of you would get married.

When you turned 14 you realized you might be in love with your best friend romantically but you knew he didn’t feel the same way. He was popular with the ladies, usually bringing a new date to a party each night. He would still tell you that you were his number 1 girl.

That’s when you become self conscious of the way you looked, you started wearing makeup, getting your hair done and exercising religiously. Just so you could match up to the girls he was hitting on.

When you both turned 18, he took off to college. Getting his business degree so his dad would let him run part of the business.

You stayed back though, doing most of your courses online. You couldn’t leave, not when your dad was so sick. So you stayed and wondered what Rafe was up to, you didn’t see him for over 2 years.

You messaged here and there but things weren’t the same anymore. After a while of waiting for him, you realized you needed to move on. You wouldn’t hope and pray that one day he would wake up and feel the same way you do.

So when his older cousin Cooper asked you out on a date, you said yes without a second thought. He was exactly 2 years and 6 months older than you, he’d never given you a second look until the New Year’s party, you had been waiting for Rafe to show up. But to avail he never showed, you met Cooper properly that night and he was instantly obsessed.

Fast forward 8 months into a relationship with him, you found yourself sat on the floor of Tanny Hill. Watching as everyone opened their Christmas presents.

You had been invited by Ward before he had even thought of inviting Cooper and his side of the family, you had to pretend to act surprised when Cooper asked you to come. You knew he had invited you since your dad had passed away, your mum had gone back to work not long after he passed and she was apparently to busy to come home for Christmas.

This year Rafe came on, he was sitting on the large black lounge, arm slung around his girlfriend Lola. She was lovely, blonde with a die for figure. Everything you weren’t. Rafe looked more mature, but happier.

He still caused butterflies to swarm your belly, your heart to stammer in your chest. He still hugged the same and spoke the same, still picked on you in a way that had you giddy.

“Who wants a drink?” Coop questions, stumbling in his step slightly. You shook your head and stood up, he had been drinking since 9am and it was 2pm now. He was wasted. He could hardly stand by himself, using the door frame for support.

“Coop I don’t think you need another drink” you whispered, following him into the kitchen. He waved you off and continued to mix liquids into a shaker.

He had started drinking a lot in the past 3 months, work had been stressful and deadlines where being thrown left and right at him. You suspected he was also nervous about Rafe coming home, he knew how close we used to be.

“Could you open that?” He asks, pushing you the unopened bottle of champagne. His hands gripped the table to steady himself, he chuckled under his breath and looked up at you.

“Open it!” He ordered, you jumped slightly at his aggressive tone. You hated when he drank, he was a whole other person. Mean, manipulative and always ended up hurting you in some way.

You proceeded to uncork the champagne and passed it back to him in silence, he snatched it from you without a thank you and went back to making his drink.

He took a gulp of his drink and walked around to you, sculling back the last of it, he reached out for you. flinching away from him as he placed his hand on your hip.

“Oh come on babe, I didn’t mean to yell” he whispered, pressing his lips to your cheek. You nodded your head in silence, holding your breath. The stench of alcohol on his breath made you woozy.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking harshly at the skin. He pushed your back against the island bench, trapping you between his large arms. Grinding himself against you.

“Coop, not now. Someone could walk in” you whispered, moving to duck under his arm. He grabbed the pony tail that sat low on your head, pulling you back up to him.

“You don’t get to deny me what’s mine” he growled, his hand gripping the base of your throat. Tightening his fingers around it roughly.

“Coop” you cried, your throat began to burn and the breath you desperately wanted to take was trapped. “You're hurting me!”

He wasn’t listening though, his eyes were glazed over and the expression on his face was no longer him. He was the Cooper you had started to hide from when he came home at 2am in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up” he shouted, his fingers slipped under the material of your sweater. Groping the flesh of your breast roughly, scratching the skin raw.

You had started to cry at this point, tears staining your cheeks. You were thankful that this house was so big, no one would be able to hear you. You didn’t want anyone to witness this.

Cooper began to unzip your jeans, sliding his shaky hand under your panties until he found what he was looking for.

“Cooper!” You cried out, searing pain shooting through you as his fingers roughly entered you.

Tears were blurring your vision now, his lips were all over you. You were struggling to breath from his mouth on your lips and his fingers around your throat.

He began to unzip his own pants, pulling your hand away from the bench and down his jeans. Your fingers frozen, he manipulated them until they wrapped around his cock. “Come on y/n, just a quick fuck and you can go back to the fucking Cameron’s” he slurred, pulling your jeans down to expose your green panties. “Fuck, my favorite” he laughed, he spun you around pushing your face into the table.

The alcohol Cooper had spilt was now all over your face and in your hair, he had you pinned under his hand. Pulling his cock out of his pants, he didn’t warn you or ease you into it. He slammed his hips into you, causing you to cry out in pain.

You squeezed your eyes such and dug your fingernails into the wooden bench, trying to take yourself to a happy place. Anywhere but here.

“Fuck! Get a roo-” Rafes voice filled your ears, the once deafening buzz was gone and you pried your eyes open. Rafe only needed a second to realize you were in distress.

The once disgusted look in his face had vanished and was replaced with anger, his brows knitted together as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Fuck off bro” Cooper shouted, pushing your head back down onto the table and thrusting his hips again, he had no shame.

“Rafe!” You choked, pleading for him to do something. Rafe seemed to have gotten out of the trance he was in and he began bounding towards the two of you.

Cooper pulled himself out of you, tucking himself back into his pants stumbling backwards into the sink.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!!” Rafe screamed, he fisted the front of Cooper's shirt and pulled him closer.

You could tell he was fighting with himself, he didn’t want to cause a scene. Not when his dad was around, he couldn’t risk losing the business.

You had pulled your pants up in hurry, clutching the table in pain as Ward stepped into the kitchen the moment Rafe’s fist was in the air, he took one look at you crying and looked back at the boys.

“What happened?” He questioned, causing Rafe to drop his fist and look back at his dad. “He was assaulting y/n”.

This seemed to anger Ward as well, he nodded his head and stepped over to you.

“Let’s take you somewhere else” Ward whispers, he puts his hand out for you to take. You look back at Rafe and cooper, Rafe nods his head towards his dad. Cooper doesn’t even look at you, he’s so far gone his eyes are rolling behind his head.

You step over to take Ward’s hand and let him take you to his study, he situates you on the couch and hands you some water. You give him a soft smile and move your head to stare out of the window at the sea.

“I’ll be next door” he states, he wants to give you a moment of privacy. He also knows you won’t talk about it to him, you’ll want to talk to Rafe.

You're unaware how much time passes but the door to the study creaks open, Rafe steps in with a bag of ice over his hand.

“Y/n”

You turn your head back to the window, cradling your throat in your hands. The aching hadn’t stopped, the burn in your throat was brutal. No amount of water was easing the pain.

“Can I use your shower?” You asked, moving from your spot and walking towards him. You winced in pain, you hadn’t realized how sore you were. Cooper had been much rougher this time. “Here I’ll help you”.

You let him walk you up the stairs to his room, he pushes the door open. His girlfriend Lola lay on top of his mattress reading a book, her head whips around and sorrow feels her features when she looks at you.

“Sorry babe I thought you were downstairs” he smiled at her, she pulled herself from the bed quickly and flattened her dress. “I’ll use Sarah’s shower” you stated, pulling away from Rafe and walking yourself across the landing with a whimper.

“I have to help her babe” Rafe states and his arms are back around you in a second. You let him lead you into Sarah’s room, he flips the switch in the bathroom and turns the shower on.

“Thanks Rafe” you whisper, you give a soft hug in appreciation and he kisses the top of your head like he used to. Your heart swells, he pulls away and gives you a smile.

“I’ll get you some of Sarah’s clothes” he states and steps out of the room, he goes to close the door but you grab the handle before he can. “Leave it open a little please”.

He nods and steps away from the door, he searches through Sarah’s draws and grabs her a pair of loose shorts and oversized shirt. This should do, he thought to himself.

He walked back to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of you reaching for the towel. He could see old bruises on your arms and the fresh bruises on your hips, he closed his eyes when he caught sight of the harsh scratches on your breast. He knew he shouldn’t look, but you’d seen each other naked before. Okay maybe you were only 15 but still.

“Rafe” you called out, he was at the door in seconds handing you a pile of clothes. “Let me get yours washed” he says, you look down at your clothes and back at him. “No I’ll do it” you went to grab the clothes on the bench but he was faster than you. “Rafe” you warned but his eyes were already looking at the clothes in his hands, the sight of bright red blood stained on your once favorite pair of panties.

“Fuck” he grunted, balling your clothes up in his fists. “I’m getting dad to call the dr” he states, you shake your head grabbing his bicep. “No please Rafe, I’m fine. I don’t want another dr looking at me” you cried, he pulls you into a hug and squeezes you softly against his chest.

“Does this happen a lot?” He questions, he knows he doesn’t have a right to ask. The two of you hadn’t spoken properly since he left and he knew that was all his fault.

“When he drinks a lot he is this whole other person, it only started happening recently. I was never around when he drank before” you mumbled against his chest, you could hear the harsh thump of his heart as he took in the new information.

“He pushed me around a couple of times, forced himself on me a few weeks ago when I told him I missed you. Today was different, he was brutal.” You say, pulling yourself away from his hold. You grab the clothes he brought in and begin to change, keeping the towel around your body until the oversized shirt cover your naked body, stepping into the shorts.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been around y/n” he says, taking the towel from you and hanging it on a hook. He watches you throw your clothes into the trash, and lets you walk out of the bathroom first.

“Y/n”

Cooper's voice frightens you, you step back hitting Rafe’s chest in the process. Your heart races as you take in his swollen bruised face, you didn’t like it. “Coop, Ward told you to leave” Rafe states, stepping around you and walks towards him. “I know I know, I just needed to see y/n. I’m so sorry this happened again baby, you know I love you”.

You shake your head and walk back into the bathroom closing the door behind you, you didn’t want to hear it, he was just trying to get you to forgive him. Take him back and pretend like none of it happened.

It was the same every time, this time he’d gone too far.

“Get out Cooper now, I’m fucking serious. Your lucky I didn’t call the fucking cops you piece of shit!” Rafe bellows, you hear a thump against a wall. Either Rafe hit the wall or he hit Cooper who fell into the wall.

“Fuck!” You hear Cooper shout, the door slams behind him. You're pressed against the bathroom door in silence, body shaking in fear.

Rafe taps on the wood quietly and you open the door for him. “He’s gone, let’s get you something to eat yeah?”.

Part two

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank

(please note a lot of people who commented or like my taglist post I am unable to actually tag, so sorry!! And if you no longer want to be tagged just let me know)

#outerbanks smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe angst #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey smut #outerbanks x reader

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bellewintersroe · 8 months

Text

Lance Stroll x HornerDaughter! BFF Smut.

Ok this is loosely based of an audio linked by @2-fast-2-curious because she’s doing gods work out here with her F1 audio masterlist, I’m not sure if I should link the actual audio I don’t wanna steal anything, but anyway here’s some Lance smut so 18+. warning: explicit content, intoxication, funny drunken arguments, masturbation, unprotected sex, unexpected sex, creampie, oral, admission of feelings? probs not a warning but yolo. I LOVE writing as reader being Horner’s daughter it’s just fun ok. Reader and Lance are besties and have been for a while but they reunite and something clicks between them, anyway enjoy…

Partying it up in Monaco was probably the pinnacle of my life. Nothing could get better than being 22 and dancing on a yacht with all of your closest friends. Promiscuous Girl was blaring through the speakers as the yacht began its way back to dock in the harbour. It was a Saturday night and the expensive town of Monte Carlo was bustling. Vibrant nights exploded through the night sky and vibrations of all kinds of music spread through my body.

“Should you be up there?!” Lance asked, one of my closest friends as he stared up to me on the back of the drivers platform. “No.” I giggled, “c’mon, let’s get you down.” He held his hands out, helping me down off the side. “We’re going back to Jaspers, are you coming?” He questioned as I jumped, a little uneasy on my feet as the boat rocked slightly.

“We’re going back to Jaspers? And not a club?!” I almost burst out laughing, out of everywhere to choose from we were going back to a house party- equivalent to afters? “Yeah, I don’t know why.” Lance shook his head, watching me for a second before scanning around the boat. When he turned away I stole a glimpse before mimicking his action of watching all our friend. The good majority of us had known each other for a good 10+ years, now we were all back in Monaco to celebrate nothing particular, it felt like a school reunion. “Aren’t you glad to be back with everyone?” I then nudged the Canadian who I’d known since being a child. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird. Everything feels normal again.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” I faintly muttered, gazing into the distance. “You’re so corny, you know!” I then teased, jabbing his side. “Hey, you asked!” He playfully knocked me back as we engaged in a gentle scuffle. “You’re the one person I hoped wasn’t coming to this party!” He joked as I gasped, “and you’re the one person I want to push overboard!” With a gentle shove back, Lance giggled cheekily, holding my arms still.

“Get your dirty hands off me. I don’t know where they’ve been.” I teased, firmly crossing my arms across my chest. “You don’t even wanna know, miss Horner.”

“You’re right, I don’t… I’m gonna go get a drink before we dock, you coming?” “Sure…”

Soon enough we docked, and the main bulk of us went to Jasper’s house. I mainly lingered around my closest girls, piling into the bathroom, sitting in the bathtub, having deep conversations in the tub one minute and then dancing the next. It was just like how it felt when we were all 16. I’d always eagerly tried to recreate my teenage years, missing the freedom and carefree attitude I always had, so the whole nice was like a free cure for any of my problems. At one point, Jasper and Kiran, butted heads. They were way too drunk, and you just know when their shirts off and their ego’s were inflated, there’d be trouble. “Nah bro, you’re still the same as school.” Jasper waved him off, Kiran frowning, squint growing as he got progressively more angry. Kiran and Jasper went to the same international school in the south of France, they always fought. They’d fight over girls, alcohol, cars, money, and when there was nothing to fight over they’d fight over nothing.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The Italian responded as a few of us gathered, waiting for the entertainment to start. “You’re still a prick mate, you act like a fucking 16 year old.” “Oh, here we go…” Somebody muttered from besides me, I glanced up to see Lance and a smile grew. “What are they fighting over now?”

“Erm, something to do with shoes and alcohol bottles, I don’t even know.” I waved it off. “Nice.” Lance, along with about six more of us stood and watched the argument progress until the men were almost head butting one another.

“Maybe I should stop this now…” Lance comically sighed. “Or maybe I should wait for it to get physical.” Within seconds it got physical. “Oh shit.” Lance flew forwards and others attempted to break up the fight. It was comical, drunken fights always were so dramatic, it made me laugh. I stood there and laughed out loud, I must’ve looked so unhelpful but when masculine men got all fragile and crazy it was funny. The fight caused the party to end, probably at the right time, many people were staying there, but with my family’s house nearby, I thought it would be best just to head back. “Oh you’re leaving?!” My friend Molly exclaimed.

“I’m going to bed.” I yawned, my sobriety taking over and exhausting me. “What? You’re not staying over here?!” She exclaimed. “I was gonna go to my bed.” I was then met with a chorus of complaints pleading me to stay as it would be ‘just like old times’. What I didn’t expect was to be stuffed on a sheet on the floor in a room where the air-con was blasting me to death. I was in my underwear and one of Jasper’s shirts, trying to bunch up as much blanket as possible but Naomi, who I slept besides, rolled over and took them all. After an hour or so the sleep wouldn’t come, so I excused myself (silently) and just stood in the hallway shuddering slightly. I suppose it wasn’t too late to go home, it was nearing 4:30AM and sleep would be non existent, unless I found somebody who actually had a bed to themselves. I turned lightly seeing the door to Lance’s room on the bottom floor open, swiftly I patted down the stairs with a quiet giggle knowing I could bug him enough to sleep in the bed. We used to share all the time when we were younger, so to me it wasn’t such a big deal.

Creeping in, I nudged open the door to see Lance’s face lit up with the reflection of his face. “Hey..” he whispered, a smile growing as he dropped his phone to one side. “Can I come in?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure. Shut the door behind you.” He pushed himself up a little to reveal he was shirtless. Again, no big deal, right? I giggled, closing the door behind me as he patted the bed besides him. “Couldn’t sleep?” He questioned. “No, I was on the floor and Naomi was hogging the covers.” I tucked my legs up under me on the bed, facing him directly. “Unlucky. You cold? Come get under.” The Canadian hushed, budging up as I felt the relief of slipping under the blankets, warm from where he’d been laying.

“Why’re you awake?” I then questioned pulling them all the way up over my shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep. Hey, this is like old times again isn’t it?” He nudged softly, the warm of his arm brushing against the cool of mine with a hiss. “You’re so cold, c’mere.” He wrapped his arm around me, sinking down into the sheets as we borderline cuddled. “Now it’s like old times.” I pointed out as he giggled again. “Oh yeah? We used to do this a lot, didn’t we?” Expect now it felt different. Lance and I were no longer awkward and frigid 16 year olds, he had muscles, I had boobs, there was extra parts pushing against extra parts and it made me feel… different.

“I know, back when we were both frigid.” I whispered knocking into his chest which my arm laid across. Lance let out a laugh a little too loud in return. “We both were weren’t we..” He then sighed as I let out a giggle before a comfortable silence took over us. “This bed is so much comfier.” I muttered, staring into the darkness of the bedroom. Truthfully, there was something a lot more intimate about sharing a bed with Lance all these years later. “You’re a lot comfier than you used to be.” I nuzzled up, my chest pressing up against his side. “Me? Really, why?” “Muscles.” I squeezed at his bicep playfully as he swatted me away when the action must’ve been ticklish. “Yeah well, you’ve got tits now, didn’t you used to be like a waterboard?!” He fired back playfully as I choked out a gasp, attempting to push at him but his hands grasped mine.

“I had small ones, thank you very much!” Lance laughed at my response. “Oh, what the fuck.” He quickly spoke, arm falling back around me and resting softly on my upper back. “What?” I giggled, pushing up. Our faces were super close and for the first time in forever I felt something spark up inside of me. Lance’s smile softened as his eyes roamed over my face before down to my chest.

“Who’s shirt is that?” “My boyfriends.” I lied as Lance shifted quickly. “I’m kidding. It’s Jaspers!” My eyes widened. “Oh.” There was an evident relief on his face and in that moment I felt my knee knock against his leg. “I had no shirt to sleep in, but it’s kinda… uncomfortable.” The shirt was scratchy, it was drowning me and I most definitely couldn’t sleep in it. “Why don’t you take it off?” Lance glanced up and down to my propped up state. His words were quick and I could see the slight worry that twitched in his eye after he answered. “Take it off? Now?” My breath was hitched as the two of us stared back to each other.

“Yeah…” Lance didn’t break eye contact as my lips stretched out into a grin at his seriousness. “What? Shut the fuck up, I’m being serious.” He joked as I smirked down, fiddling with the hem of it.

“But I’m not wearing anything under…” “Oh you’re not?” Lance seemed on edge, eyes constantly dropping down. The peaks of my nipples were pressed up against the fabric and if he looked close I swore he could see the outline of my piercings.

“No…” I whispered gently as his free hand slid forwards, fiddling with the end of my shirt. It seemed to happen in an instant that my top was off and my breasts were exposed. I giggled, covering them slightly as I laid back, Lance propped to the side of me. “Don’t go all shy!” He chuckled. “I’m not, I’m not.” I pushed them together slightly, feeling Lances eyes fixated on them. I knew I was getting turned on, I wondered if he felt the same? There was an undeniable tension between us and I was shocked that we’d actually crossed the barrier of being ‘just friends’. “You’ve got really good tits.” His voice lowered, as I scanned over his body. “Your turn.” Except the only thing he was wearing was his underwear. With a smile, Lance pushed his hands under the hem of his Calvin Kleins, freeing himself but he was hidden under the duvet. “What’re we doing right now?” He quickly laughed to himself as I giggled, arching my back slightly. “Is this weird?” He then muttered, hand disappearing under the covers. “I don’t know, is it?”

“No… what’d you- uh, want me to do?” Lance quietly asked, almost shyly. “I don’t want you to do anything.” I teased, giggling as I glanced down. “You just said take them off!” By the looks of it they were already half off. “I know!” “Fuck it… now I’m fully naked and you’re not!” He pointed out. “You want me to take my underwear off?” My heart was beating rapidly as I laid against the pillow, gazing up to him. His hand brushed against my naked waist, resulting in me swallowing harshly.

“Yeah, I want you to..” his voice was so gentle I barely heard it. I looked down, my hands sliding under the band of my thongs feeling his hand meeting mine and pushing them off, exposing me completely. I felt the blood rush to my core as I squeezed my legs together, looking back up to him with a smile.

“What do you wanna do now?” I lightly asked. “I dunno- you wanna kiss me?” To this I burst out laughing. “Fine! We won’t kiss!” He chuckled, placing a hand on my stomach.

“Wouldn’t that make it weird?” I dumbly asked, becoming lost at the sensation of his large hand sprawled across my stomach and hip bone. “What and this wouldn’t?” He muttered, fingers grazing over my skin as I inhaled deeply.

“No.” I swallowed, glancing down to where Lance’s hand had slipped off me and onto himself. “What’re you having a wank or something?” I teased. “No, I’m just… I’m fucking hard.” He admitted as I felt a blush rise on my face.

“Why?”

“Why? Cos you’re naked and fucking hot as fuck right now.” He spoke as I smiled, “you wanna touch yourself?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Lance borderline whined as I felt his movements begin under the covers. I bit down on my finger, giggling deviously as butterflies erupted in my lower stomach. I didn’t think I’d been this turned on in a long long time- and it was over one of my lifelong friends? I always knew Lance was hot, but not this hot.

“Touch yourself as well, it’s only fair.” He panted out a laugh as my fingers slipped down. The minute I made contact with my clit I felt relief, applying pressure to my throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” Lance uttered, mesmerised as his eyes wandered over me, his jaw slightly hung slack as he jittered as his hand moved a little quicker.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” I snickered, hearing him hum out a laugh. “Can I touch you?” He then questioned, making me slightly nervous. “Yeah.” God, I wanted him to, the room felt red hot with tension. Lance’s hand slid over my tits, giving them a squeeze slightly before moving down to my pussy. He didn’t waste anytime, I was getting wetter by the second, and when his fingers touched me I let out a soft gasp at the sensation. My best friend was touching me so intimately, the more I watched him, the more shocked I was, it felt fucking great, the adrenaline was pumping inside of me and I felt desperate for Lance. I was trying to keep quiet, and also keep my composure, but Lance was too fucking good at this. “I need to taste you, fuck.” He shifted, sliding to the end of the bed as I covered my mouth with my arm, choking out a moan.

Lance was like a fucking god as he ate me out. His mouth was so warm against my pussy and he physically moaned as he licked and sucked over my clit. “Fuck- I can’t believe you’re so good at this.”

“Yeah… you wanna return the favour?” He teased. “Yeah.” I seriously whined. “Yeah?” He kissed my upper pubic bone as I lifted my head, nodding with a gentle breath. Lance switched our positions around, scraping my hair back gently as I smiled, shyly moving forwards.

“Is this weird?” I asked, his cock literally in my hand. “No.” He seemed tense. “Just go slow or I might bust too quick.”

“Really?” I slowly tugged on his member, teasing over the smooth skin as he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, don’t laugh.” He nudged my shoulder as I giggled, moving down and wrapping my lips around his cock. Hearing Lance moan as I pleasured him with my mouth was something I never expected. It felt so dirty and raunchy, it turned me on even more. The way his arms trembled as he gripped the bed sheets, sliding his fingers through my hair, or when he pleaded for me to slow down.

“Fuck, don’t cum!” I laughed, swiping my thumb against the corner of my mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that, oh my god…” he sounded so turned on, his voice was low and sultry, pulling me by the arms on top of him. “I wanna fuck you, can I fuck you?” He was wide eyes, scanning over my own.

“Yeah.” I was breathless, reaching for his cock as I eased it inside myself, the two of us letting out a sigh in pleasure. It had been so long since anybody had fucked me, and the fact it was Lance made everything feel 10x better.

“Oh my god.” I moaned as I bounced ontop of him. “Oh fuck, baby, bounce on my cock, like that.”

“Lance.” I whined in response as he hummed, holding onto either side of my hips. “You feel so good.” His head tipped back with a moan as I lifted my hips, bouncing on my knees on top of his cock.

“So do you.” I panted, the sound of our skin slapping and the bed creaking filling the room. We continued like that for a few more minutes, Lance pulled me down, our faces inches apart as he fucked into me. “Fuck, I’ve needed this so bad.” He groaned, his hips slapping into mine as I let out an open mouthed moan, his hand sliding up the back of my head.

“Kiss me, fuck y/n, kiss me.” Lance begged as I pressed my lips against his firmly. It felt so good, the kiss was so heated and desperate, it spurred the sex on further.

“Fuck, my legs.” I groaned, “lazy.” Lance teased as I scoffed. “Shut up or I’ll stop.” He smirked, flipping us around as the bed creaked under out movements. There was movement outside the other room, footsteps drawing closer and moving past the room as Lance and I stared back to each other in amusement. “Sh, sh, sh.” He hushed, looking towards the door. I giggled, bucking my hips up playfully.

“They’re going to the bathroom.” He whispered, turning down and laughing, purposefully pinning his hips up against mine to the bed. The movements started again, slowly. I could hear whoever was in the toilet flushing the toilet and the run of the tap, until we heard the bedroom door close again it was a mission to stay quiet. “Fuck me properly now, fuck me.” I pleaded with Lance, wrapping my arms over his shoulder as he spread my legs wider, beginning to thrust into me once again. Our quiet moans filled the room, his cock pushed up deep inside of me as his balls slapped against my skin.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, oh my god.” He laughed as I giggled, pulling him in for another kiss. “I wanted you for so long.” He admitted as I let out another moan, muffling it with another kiss. “Fuck me, fuck me.” The sex continued, in doggy, spooning, back in missionary, it felt like we were at it for ages.

“Can you cum like this?” Lance questioned, voice on edge as he held me close. “Not like this.” I admitted, he didn’t hesitate to move down and pleasure me with his mouth again.

It didn’t take long before he was pushing me over the edge, giving me the first ever orgasm from oral ever. I felt like I was in bliss, and after a few more thrusts inside of me, Lance was jerking himself over my stomach and tits, spilling his cum with a bitten back groan.

“Fuck, fuck.” The Canadian man tossed his head back, falling forwards on top of me, kissing me deeply as I hummed against his lips, scraping my hand through his messy hair. “You were so fucking good.” I cooed as he let out a husky hum, continuing to keep his lips against mine.

“So were you. Fuck, I’ve been in love with you for so long…” his words startled me, a warmth spreading through me as I gasped out. “Have you?” He pushed up on top of me, lingering there as he nodded shyly.

“I think- I think I love you too…”

#Lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lance stroll x horner daughter #Lance stroll smut #Lance stroll x reader smut

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thisismeracing · 5 months

Text

Pretty Liar | LN4 (Patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader ― Word count: 5.6k ― Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol; +18! graphic description of sex (p in v, oral - both, fem and male receiving). ― Summary: Ever since Lando was a kid he knew his future would bring fame somehow, always involved with racing and having just what it needed to become a Formula 1 driver, he was happy with everything it entailed, up until said future became his present and he realized there was also a rough side to the fame. That’s why, when he found you – someone who had no idea who he was, he kept his career from you. He would tell you, and he would eventually clarify the situation, he had it all planned, however, all it took was one week. One week for you to discover that what you thought started as a beautiful story, was actually a perfectly told lie. Lando was pretty, but he was also a liar. Now he had to find a way to explain everything, and you had to find it in you to forgive him.

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Some scientists believe that it takes around ten minutes for an average person to make an everyday decision. Yet, the moment Yn’s eyes met Lando’s, and he smiled at her, she knew they would go home together that night, and this exchange took less than a second.

His face seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember where. She thought maybe it was from an old Instagram post their friends in common had made. Maybe they saw each other in a pub before. The city wasn’t that big, their crowds were similar, and they were both young.

Lando seemed surprised with the news, “You don’t…know me?”

“Should I?” Yn asks, quirking her eyebrows with a glimmer of humor in her stare.

He shook his head before Oliver, their common friend, could say something, “Nah, it’s just…I’m a DJ, I thought maybe you had seen something about me around a party you know?!”

Yn bit her lower lip, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you must be a great DJ, but I’ve never heard of a Lando Norris before.”

“Now I’m hurt,” the Brit turned to their friend, and Oliver’s laugh boomed around.

That was how their first interaction went, with both aware of the tension line being pulled. Lando had never seen someone match his energy like she did, and Yn had never felt that giddy with a guy before. When someone grabbed Oliver away, the speakers gave space to a remixed tune of Zedd and Yn asked what Lando was playing that night, or if he was playing at all.

He smiled at her showing the small gap between his teeth which she decided was one of her favorite features of his, after his eyes, “It depends. What do you want me to play?”

“Oooh, smooth, I like it!” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink, and using the seconds to breathe in some air. “Would you mind playing Rihanna?”

“Most recent ones or oldies?”

“Around 2010s would be perfect.”

“I know exactly the song,” he announced like a promise, and Yn nodded, grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers, and starting to head in the direction of the bar. It would be an hour or so until the pub’s DJ finished his thing.

“Do you wanna drink something?” Yn stopped to say in his ears now that the song seemed much louder and so did the crowd. Lando’s free hand grabbed her waist, and he shouted back that he had just grabbed his refill, but he was fine going with her.

Truth was, Lando didn’t even like the bar area that much, drunk people would tend to gather there sometimes, spill their alcohol, scream, and try creating scenes, but something about Yn’s eyes would make him follow her to hell, and they had just met. That felt a tad scary, but he wouldn’t think too much about it, trying to focus his mind on Danny’s words about enjoying the butterflies, enjoying the naivety, and enjoying the nerves that came with it.

**********************

“I still gotta learn how to bake properly.”

“We could try together. I know a thing or two about sugary recipes,” she suggested. “Meanwhile, you cook the main dish and I make the dessert—” she stopped mid-sentence, putting the palm of her hand on her forehead. “We forgot about dessert, Lan!”

But the pilot can only grin, watching in awe as her lips pout slightly.

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” her tone started with a confused hint, but when their eyes met and Yn caught the way his gaze drifted across her body like a caress bringing a shiver along. Her legs instinctively crossed in search of the slight tinge of pressure.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” his grin was wicked, and the way his head pointed to the space in front of him at the table almost made Yn whimper. Lando pushed the plate and glass to the side, watching as Yn got up and walked to him. The noises of the city came through the open windows, just like the cold wind, creating the perfect harmony with the way her bare steps hit the ground, the slight sound coming from it.

The legs of Lando’s chair scraped on the ground when he pushed it just a tiny bit to make room for Yn. She sat on his lap, legs on either side of him, caging him in place, and giving him the feeling of her bare cunt against his dress pants.

“Aren’t you wearing anything under the dress?” he asked, mocking shock on his expression.

Yn merely shook her head, “It would just ruin it anyway.”

And just like that cooking conversations and random subjects were long forgotten, their lips smashed together in a heated kiss, and Yn moaned into his mouth when Lando gripped her waist and guided her movements on top of him, his cock hardening with each motion.

*****************

“Come in my mouth,” she rasped, it sounded like a plea, and Lando couldn’t help but give it to her. At that moment he would give her anything and everything she asked for. The way her eyes blinked at him from between his legs, mascara a bit smudged on her cheeks, lips swollen from sucking, she looked like an angel.

And he couldn’t deny an angel its request.

So when her mouth enveloped him again, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling Lando gripped the table, hips buckling slightly and body finally succumbing to pleasure. He watched as his cum leaked from her mouth, his dick still spurting the white liquid and making it land on her chin and collarbone.

Yn grinned up at him, licking her lips.

He scooped cum from her chin using his finger and she eagerly opened her mouth, sucking his thumb and smiling up at him again. At that moment, he wanted them to be intimate enough, so he could grab a camera and save that image. Frame it. Store it under locks. Have it with him forever. Something about the way she looked and what they had just done stirred his insides again.

“Can I have mine now?” he scooped more cum this time from her collarbone and Yn nodded, parting her lips to him again.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece. I've been meaning to write a long piece for Lan for a while now, and it felt good to put this together, I'm looking forward to writing more for him, let me know if you wanna see it! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading and beta-reading this (Ily, Dee!).

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merakiui · 6 months

Text

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle.

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you.

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer.

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo #yandere rollo x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

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dancingbirdie · 7 months

Text

Continuation of my series "The Planets Bend Between Us" where I imagine how Astarion's aversion to intimacy and physical touch lessens as his relationship with Tav progresses.

Read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here!

Also find the series on Ao3 here.

Comments, reactions, and feedback always appreciated!

The Light In Us Both

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings/Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff, vampire bites, blood drinking, non-sexual intimacy, no smut

Astarion was nearly convinced that bindings would be necessary to keep Tav still this evening. His lovely little wildling continued to fidget beneath him, giggling under her breath and squirming each time he drew close to her neck in an attempt to feed.

They had been in the Underdark for over a week now. Viable options for “food” were scarce for him, and so Tav had graciously allowed him to drink from her each night in order to maintain his vigor.

While she insisted she didn’t mind, that it wasn’t an encumbrance, he couldn’t help but notice the looks of disapproval and worry from other members of their party. It was difficult to ignore. They didn’t dare speak their misgivings aloud, though, for fear of Tav’s fierce rebuke that would inevitably follow.

Astarion loved the duality of his ferocious little darling. She was hot-tempered, demanding and fiery with nearly everyone and everything she came across. Everyone else in the party treated her as the de facto leader. She had even managed to earn the respect of Lae’zel.

But with Astarion, she was as harmless as a newborn kitten. She joked with him. Teased. Flirted. She was pliant, like clay in his hands. One knowing look from him, and he could watch as she instantly calmed. He wasn’t sure how he’d come to tame such a hellcat, but it gave him immense pleasure, and pride, to be the only person who could call forth that side of her. Him. Astarion.

But tonight, however, he was just about at his wit’s end with her. Tav could not remain still despite his insistences. He even went so far as to describe the embarrassment they’d both share if they had to wake Shadowheart up at this time of night to repair Tav’s lacerated throat because she couldn’t stop squirming.

Nothing seemed to work.

“You know, darling, this little exercise of ours is made much more easy when you hold still,” Astarion whispered, a little exasperated, in her ear.

Tav giggled. His breath against the shell of her ear tickled. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try to behave.”

“Mm, see that you do.”

He nuzzled at her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, prolonging the temptation of her blood just a moment longer. His hand ghosted up her waist to rest against her lower ribs. He opened his mouth, lips lightly brushing her skin. His fangs were a hair’s breadth away from sinking into her when, suddenly, a fit of laughter bubbled from her between her lips.

He pulled back to glare at her, squeezing her waist in reproach. At his expression, she broke out in peals of laughter. He made to sit up, obviously affronted, but her hand clutched his nightshirt tighter, preventing him.

“Tsk. You daft thing,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Honestly, have the Myconid spores gone to your head?”

She continued to chuckle. “Astarion, I’m sorry, but I’m ticklish.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your hand. On my ribs. It tickled,” she explained. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’ve never had this issue before,” he replied, dubious.

“Because normally you’re holding onto my arm. Or my shoulder,” she quipped, her laughter finally quieting.

“I see,” he murmured, mulling over her words, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve upset you,” Tav responded soberly, finally taking stock of the fact that Astarion hadn’t found the situation nearly as humorous as she had. “I really am sorry. I’ll keep still this time. Promise. Just maybe don’t touch me around the ribs.”

He observed her quietly a moment more. Tav couldn’t decipher what thoughts were percolating behind his expression. But then his lips curved into a sly smile.

“So, to be clear, what you’re saying is, that if I touch you here,” he began casually, his hand tracing light swirls across her ribs. The skin of her arms and neck immediately broke out into gooseflesh. She mashed her lips together to keep from giggling once more, squirming slightly under Astarion’s touch.

“...it’s especially ticklish for you?” he finished, looking up at her in mock innocence.

Tav could sense a game was afoot. And she hated losing. Clenching her teeth together, willing herself to keep still, she managed a slight nod.

“I see,” Astarion said seriously. “And what about if I do this?” he asked before leaning down to blow lightly against the shell of her delicately pointed ear.

Tav squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything else besides the urge to laugh and sidle away from him.

“Oh my,” he intoned. “Seems like that’s dangerous territory as well.”

Tav opened her eyes, taking in the full devilish grin that graced Astarion’s mouth. He was enjoying this. She glared at him.

“All right, all right,” he placated. “But purely for my own edification,” he continued. “Is this off limits as well?”

And before she could jerk away, he began tickling her outright. Swinging a leg over her hips to pin her down, his hands were everywhere across her ribs, her soft stomach, and under her arms.

Tav shrieked with laughter, too distracted by Astarion’s onslaught to keep her voice down. Her hands chased his, attempting to grab them, but he was far too quick. She switched tactics then, bucking her hips in an effort to knock him off of her. But, try as she might, he stayed firmly situated atop her. Above the din of her own noise, she made out his own peals of laughter.

He sounded utterly carefree. Playful. Filled with joy.

“I give! I give!” she squealed finally.

“COULD YOU TWO PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN?!” they heard Shadowheart suddenly shout from across the camp. “SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO REST.”

Grumbles of assent from around the camp floated up after her.

“SORRY,” Tav shouted with equal fervor, grinning like mad at Astarion. “I’LL TRY SUFFERING IN SILENCE IN THE FUTURE.”

“MUCH APPRECIATED,” Shadowheart returned.

Astarion rolled his eyes and sighed. “Killjoys, all of them.”

Tav chuckled. Still smiling up at him, she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“You win, Astarion,” she whispered.

He huffed a laugh as he clasped her hands between his. He bent over to kiss the tops of her fingers lovingly before lifting off of her and lying back down at her side.

“And what should be my reward, for winning so spectacularly?” he returned quietly, resting a palm against her cheek.

Tav turned her face to kiss his palm before arching her neck, giving him a meaningful smile.

“I promise to hold still this time,” she teased.

Astarion chuckled, slipping his hand down her cheek, her jaw, her collarbone. He stopped at her shoulder, clutching it lightly. He lifted himself up so that he could position his mouth precisely against the column of her neck.

But before he bit down, he pressed a kiss against her neck. It was reverent. Worshipful almost. Tav fought back a shiver, holding good on her promise to remain still.

When his fangs finally sank into her skin, it was with a gentleness far greater than Astarion had ever shown before. Tav felt only the slightest prick of pain before the icy numbness began to spread under her skin. For the first time since she’d agreed to let him feed on her, the act felt like something other than a means to satiate him. It felt akin to the intimacy she had felt when they had been together that first time, in the moonlit forest following their victory party with the tieflings. They were joined together, even if it wasn’t in the same way as then.

She hummed contentedly as he continued to drink her in. One hand against his scalp, she combed her fingers through his hair with the devotion of a supplicant. Her other arm lifted to wrap around his waist, rubbing his lower back in slow, measured strokes.

He groaned softly at the feeling of her embrace. Whether she had meant it to be or not, her caresses were a subtle reminder to withdraw before he took too much of her. Extracting his fangs from her neck, Astarion licked softly at the blood welling from the two puncture marks he’d left in her skin.

Taking her blood was the nearest thing to a religious experience he had ever had. She tasted holy. As if one drop alone could absolve him of all his past sins.

“Finished already?” she asked. Her vocal cords vibrated against his lips. A delightful thrum.

“Mm, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop if I go any longer,” he murmured against her skin.

She hummed again in acknowledgement.

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known,” he whispered, planting one last kiss on her neck before rolling off of her.

“Only for you,” she replied, turning onto her side to face him. She placed her hand gently over his heart. “My star.”

He stilled in surprise. “Wh-what did you call me?”

“My star,” she intoned. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “That’s what your name means, you know. Star.”

Astarion just stared at her, too shocked to speak. Her words had shaken something loose in the back of his mind. Something from long ago. A memory perhaps. Or a memory of a memory. It was so dusty, it was hard to tell.

Someone else had called him “my star” once. Her face was blurry in his mind’s eye, but she seemed beautiful. Regal, even. And her voice - it was a faint echo, but it sounded so sincere.

“I’m sorry.”

He heard Tav’s voice drawing him back from the recesses of his mind. He blinked once, twice, before refocusing on the woman in his arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you by calling you that.”

“No… you didn’t. Not at all,” he assured. “I… I think you caused me to remember something… My… my mother used to call me ‘my star,’ I think.”

“You remembered your mother?” Tav asked, hopeful.

“Barely. It was like peering through fog. But yes… I think I did,” he paused, reflecting.

Tav remained silent, giving him time to process what he had recalled.

Finally after a few moments, he squeezed her waist and grinned. Her breath caught in her throat at his expression.

It was open. Boyish. Happy.

Quick as a flash, he leaned forward to press a light kiss against her lips. It was chaste. The kind of kiss a man would give the woman he was courting. It was over before she knew it, but still, it felt wonderful. Like another wall had fallen down around his heart. She felt honored to witness it.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, clutching her close to him as they settled down to sleep. “Thank you.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x mc #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion bg3 #dancingbirdiewrites #astarion x f!reader #bg3 astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #astarion baldurs gate #tav x astarion #soft astarion #astarion fluff

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leclercss · 10 months

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Tainted Love, Part 2 (Charles Leclerc)

Part 1

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: thank you guys for the kind words on the first chapter. i'm hoping to make to make this around 7-10 parts depending on how my creativity is feeling. hope you enjoy the second part x

word count: 4.7k

Your Uber has arrived at the address that Charles sent you and the feeling is starting to become very real. The idea of spending the night with any man other than Lewis is taking up 40% of your thoughts. The remaining 60% of your thoughts are thinking about how it will feel for Charles to kiss you again and to feel his touch on your body once more.

"Thanks so much for the lift and so sorry for the change of address," you tell the Uber driver. You climb out of the car and make a mental note to yourself to leave him a tip for his troubles.

As you make your way towards the door of the building, your thoughts go back to Charles. Are you being ridiculous for coming here? Was he really that into you? Was it desperate for you to change your mind and text him after you'd previously turned him down? And who was the "we" that he mentioned? Was it just some sort of after party that he was having? Or did he want to spend time with only you?

You're beginning to spiral.

You take a deep breath before punching in the number to his flat and wait for him to answer.

"Hey, door's open. Take the lift to the eighth floor".

It's Charles. You take a deep breath as he buzzes you in and you head towards the lift. Punching in floor number 8, a shiver runs down your spine as the building suddenly feels freezing for a late June in evening in London.

You tell yourself not to get cold feet now. You wanted this. You made some grumpy Uber driver take you to another area of London for this. Your body wanted this.

You hear some music playing on the other side as you stand in front of Charles’ apartment door accompanied by some French being thrown around. You couldn't make out the entire conversation. You had learnt French growing up but it'd been a while since you used it. And you weren't used to a Monegasque accent. But you think you can make out something about "the married one". They were talking about you.

You hear one of the voices getting closer to the front door and a second or two later the door is opened. You look at the person standing in front of you. Your heart skips a beat for a moment as you realise he's even more attractive than he was in the club.

"Hi Charles," you say softly. You try to smile but you're pretty sure the nerves you're experiencing are plastered across your face.

"Hi, [Y/N]," he replies. He smiles back at you. "I'm glad you came.” He steps to the side to let you in his apartment. "Come in".

As you enter, the music and the French conversations you had heard earlier get louder. Was he having some sort of afters?

"I live with a couple of my friends. We just came back here for a few drinks," it's like he’s read your mind. "Come on, join us for a few drinks". You feel his hand on the small of your back and a shiver runs through your spine once more at his slightest touch.

He leads you into the living room and you're greeted with a couple of faces you vaguely remember from the club. "You remember Hugo and Ricciardo from earlier right?"

They both wave at you. "Erm, yeah. Course," you lie out of politeness.

"I don't usually live here," the lighter haired one tells you. You've no idea which one he is. You think he's the one that made a comment about your husband being a lucky man when Stephanie told the group you were married. "But I thought I'd crash in Joris' room since he went back to your friend's place," he continues.

Whitney. You'd be interrogating her in the morning for details.

You feel Charles' hand move sightly further down your back. "Come on, I'll get you a drink in the kitchen," he says as he leans down towards your ear. The hand that was on your lower back takes your hand in his. You look up, smiling at him softly.

He leads you into the kitchen were he lets go of your hand to have a look in the fridge for something to drink. "So we've mostly got beer. Not sure if you're into that?" Charles calls out as he rummages through the fridge. "Oh! Actually, we've got wine. Do you like wine?" He peers at you over his shoulder and you nod.

Despite all of the alcohol you've consumed tonight, being in Charles' presence again and the thrill of turning up at his apartment has sobered you up. You feel like you need a drink to calm your nerves.

"Wine is perfect".

Your eyes follow him as he goes to the cupboard to get you a glass before pouring you a generous measure. You take the opportunity to check him out. He was just above average height. A couple of inches taller than you. He was slender but you noticed the muscle definition beneath his shirt. He definitely looked after himself. Your eyes finally landed on his fingers which were dotted with a number of different rings. You missed those fingers on your body.

"It's rude to stare you know," Charles chuckles as he snaps you out of your daze. You hadn't realised he had made his way over to you, holding two glasses of wine. He places a glass into your hand, your fingers touching.

"Thank you".

You clink your glasses together before uttering a "Cheers/Santé". You take a quick sip of your drink as your eyes meet Charles' over the top of your glass. Once you've taken a sip, you place the glass down on the counter. Charles does the same before he takes a step closer to you. He reaches towards your shoulders to remove your handbag and places it on the counter behind you. He takes another step closer to you, his face a few centimetres away from yours. His breath lightly hitting your face.

"So, what made you change your mind?" he asks you, he's waiting to see how you react. You take another sip of your wine before you decide to answer his question, earning a chuckle from Charles.

"I decided that my night wasn't done," you reply as your eyes meet again. "We didn't get to finish our dance from earlier," a reference to your earlier text to Charles.

He grins at your response. "And you couldn't finish dancing at home?" You know he's referring to your husband. He doesn't have to say it for you to understand.

You tilt your head to the side slightly before responding, "I've danced at home before. Wanted to try something new."

"And am I that something new?"

The tension in the kitchen is building as Charles' face is closer to yours than before. "I'd like to think so," you utter. You haven't broken eye contact for a while now. And it's only a matter of seconds before you feel Charles' hands on you again. He moves a strand of hair away from your face before softly tucking it behind your ear. His hand then lowers to your cheek while the other finds its way to your side, just below your breast.

"Well I'm glad you're open to trying," his voice is so smooth it melts in your ears like butter. He's confident, like he's played this game before. "I'd definitely like to show you a few things".

The tingle that you felt in your underwear from before has returned. This time accompanied with some dampness. You notice Charles is still looking at you, as if he's waiting for you to make the first move this time.

The two sips of wine have helped boost your courage, God bless alcohol, and you lean in. Your lips meet and this time there's no hesitation as you move your lips against his. You arms find their way around his neck and you take no time in pushing your tongue into his mouth softly.

The kiss is passionate and the longer it goes on the closer your bodies become. He lightly pushes you against the counter top as the hand that's below your breast now lowers towards the bottom of your dress before he pushes it beneath the hem. His other hand now finds itself lightly wrapped around your neck. The dampness is continuing to grow in your underwear. Fuck, it's definitely been a while since you've felt this horny if you're starting to get this wet so quickly.

That feeling of horniness doesn't slow down as the hand that Charles has slipped under the hem of your dress makes its way further up towards your panties. He doesn't even need to ask you to open your legs, your body voluntarily does it for him.

Your hand fits its way to the back of his head and you grip onto his hair lightly as you feel his hand move across to your underwear. Your tongues still deep in one another's mouths until you let out a soft moan as you feel Charles' finger run over the outside of your panties, applying a little pressure as his fingers runs over your slit.

You can feel him smile triumphantly as he's still kissing you. "Someone's a little excited". His voice is laced with smugness. If it was anyone else it would be a turn off but with Charles it seems to spur you on even more.

He breaks the kiss as he moves his lips along along your jaw line. Your head tilts backwards as another moan escapes your lips. He moves his lips to just below your ear where he nibbles on your skin before making his way up to your ear.

"Were you thinking about me on the way here?" he asks but you're too into the feeling of him touching you down below that you don't answer. "I asked you a question". His voice is more commanding this time, causing you to open your eyes. He's already staring at you, waiting for you to respond.

You nod at him. Fuck, you hadn't felt this submissive to a guy since earlier in your relationship with Lewis. It's been so long since a guy had fucked you senseless that you didn't know how to respond.

"Were you thinking about what it would be like for me to touch you?" He's enjoying this, you're putty in his his hands and he's enjoying every second of it. You don't know how but you're even wetter than before.

But you don't want him to have all of the fun, so you reach out for the bulge that's growing in his pants and give it a squeeze. This time it's his mouth that the moan escapes from.

"I wanted to know what this felt like," you purr into his ear and you're pretty sure you feel him become harder in your hand.

"Where do you want to feel it?" He's trying to regain some sort of control and so he slips two fingers past your panties and into your folds as he begins to rub your clit.

You bit your lip as he try not to moan again but it's becoming harder not to. "In my hands and my mouth," your lip trembles as you answer his question. You're surprising yourself with how much you're enjoying this. For it being the first time you would sleep with someone other than your husband in over six years, you're pretty good at it. But it's the next four words that leave your mouth that surprise you the most, "and in my pussy".

You're not sure if the noice that leaves your mouth is a hiss or a moan as you feel Charles plunge the two fingers that have been rubbing your clit into your pussy. "Shit, Charles!" you gasp as you grip onto his shirt to stop your legs from going from beneath you. You can't look away from his eyes as he start to build some momentum with his fingers.

"Just like that?" he teases you. "You want me to touch you right here?” His thumb now finds its way to your clit. You manage a nod as you find yourself clawing at his chest.

"I want to hear you say it," his voice is getting deeper as the tension is building.

"Yes," you pant. "Just like that, Charles".

The two of you are so lost in the moment. You try to maintain eye contact with him but your eyes are attempting to shut from the pleasure you're feeling. Your vagina is practically throbbing in Charles' hands.

You have forgotten that Charles had other company until one of his friends (Hugo and Ricciardo is what you've been told but this is one with darker hair) innocently walks into the kitchen to grab another drink.

"Shit! Sorry!" he cries as he looks away from the sight of Charles' fingers deep inside you in their kitchen. "Thought you guys were just getting a drink".

You feel your cheeks turn red from embarrassment as you've been caught red handed. But Charles doesn't seem too phased. He's joking with his friend, telling him to "fuck off" in French (that part of French you definitely remember).

His friend says something about getting a beer but Charles is busy so he'll just grab one for Hugo and himself. You've been too embarrassed to engage in the conversation so you've spent the time fiddling with one of the buttons on Charles' shirt.

Once his friend (so that was Ricciardo) has left the kitchen, Charles lifts your chin up so you're looking into his eyes again. "Sorry about that, looks like we got a bit caught up in the moment," you're not sure how he can sound so sweet while he still has his fingers inside of you. "Why don't we got to my room? No chance of them walking in on us there."

"Yeah, sure".

You instantly miss the feeling of Charles' fingers inside of you as he pulls them out before fixing your dress. You each grab your glasses of wine as Charles takes your hand in his and leads you towards his bedroom. Thankfully you manage to avoid bumping into his friends so you don't have to look them in the eye after one of the just saw you being fingered by their friend.

Charles opens a door which you're assuming is his bedroom. As he's about turn the light on, you hear one of his friends call his name from the living room.

"What?" he calls out.

The response you can't quite make out but Charles let's out a little huff before handing you his glass of wine. "I'll just be a minute. Let me deal with these two quickly".

You give him a reassuring smile as he places a kiss on your forehead before going back down the hall. You take the opportunity to have a little look around his room. His room is dark due to the late night but the lights from the street softly filter into his room. You can see the outline of some pictures on his wall. A vintage Ferrari car, a print of the Monaco GP. He's clearly into motor sports. You walk towards the window and look towards the view of the City and Canary Wharf in the distance.

You've been too occupied by the view and having a nosey around Charles' room that you don't hear him come in until you feel his body lightly press against you from behind. You jump a little earning a laugh from Charles.

"Sorry for scaring you, the guys should leave us alone now," he tells you as he takes his glass of wine out of your hand. He takes a sip, eyes firmly on yours before taking your free hand in his.

"Have you been enjoying the view?" he asks you. You're sure he's talking about the view outside but he's hinting towards himself as well.

"Yeah, it's not bad," you say as you lick your lips. "That Monaco GP poster is pretty impressive". You both chuckle at your light teasing.

"Yeah? Well maybe one day I'll get to take you. We can watch it from one of my friends' places back home," he tells you. He places his glass of wine on the window sill so he can cup your face in his hands. His fingers are laced in your hair and he's staring at your lips like he's ready to kiss you again.

"I'd like that," you whisper. You too placing your glass of wine on the window sill before you place a hand on Charles' cheek, the other on his chest, running your fingers across the bare skin that peaks through his top buttons which he's left undone.

You inhale before leaning in to kiss him. This time the kiss is sweet, it feels so delicate and intimate. Your touch is delicate too as you're both just enjoying the feeling of each other.

He gently pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before lightly kissing your lips. Your whole body is starting to tingle at the intimacy, something you've been missing for so long.

"I'm glad you came," his voice is barely a whisper. His hands start to roam the rest of your body. His touch is sexual but mostly intimate. He doesn't need to rip your clothes off, you're here now and he's going to take his time with pleasuring you.

"I'm glad I came too," you whisper. Your head tilting back as Charles' moves his kisses towards your jaw line, slowly down the side of your neck before making his way towards your throat.

"I want to feel your lips all over me," you tell him. You don't care if it sounds desperate because the anticipation growing inside of you is starting to become desperate.

Charles obeys your gentle order and makes his way down towards your collar bones, softly sucking and nibbling on your skin as his fingers make their way to the straps of your dress. He slowly pulls them down over your shoulders as he soothes your now bare skin with his fingers. A whimper leaves your lips.

He continues his movement downwards as he tugs at the material around your chest, lightly yanking it down to reveal your large breasts. He smiles to himself at the sight before him. "Where have you been hiding these?" he chuckles and you can't help but giggle as he starts to massage them.

He's clearly enjoying fondling your breasts but you want his lips on you again and so you place your hand on the back of his head so you can move it towards your body. He knows what you're looking for and so he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, soothing it as it starts to become swollen and sensitive in his mouth. He makes sure to pay attention to your other nipple, massaging it with his thumb.

Your fingers find its way into his hair as you lightly grab onto it. Your eyes shut and your lips are lightly parted from the pleasure.

After enjoying playing with your boobs, Charles can feel his jeans become tighter and more restricted and he's ready to up the intimacy.

"[Y/N], I want you to lie down on the bed," his voice is once again so soft and delicate. You nod as you pass him to get to the bed. You sit down on the edge before laying back, your dress still covering your lower half. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch Charles as he kneels in front of you. He slowly begins to pull your dress down along with your underwear, leaving you completely naked. You feel a little vulnerable, you haven't been this exposed to another man for so long that you feel a little self conscious.

But Charles is giving you no reason to feel that way as he slides your heels off your feet before making his way back up to your legs. He places a hand behind one of your knees before throwing your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to the area he wants the most.

His mouth is wet as he places sloppy kisses along your thighs before running a single finger between your slit. You're so wet it's almost embarrassing. Charles makes sure your eyes are connected with his before he leans in and places a long, slow lick along your slit.

"Oh fuck," you let out as you lightly grab the bed sheets.

"I've been waiting to taste you all night," you practically flinch at the hot air between your legs. "And it looks like you've been waiting for it too".

You nod, you can barely string a word together unless it's some profanity. He doesn't wait for an answer as he places another long, slow lick on your slit again. This time he doesn't stop to hear you moan. He pushes two of his fingers through your slit to open you up in a scissoring motion so he can get the access he needs before he starts licking your pussy.

"Ohh... Charles!"

As Charles' tongue continues to lap up your juices, the two fingers holding you open make their way further down as he pushes them inside you. His movement inside of you is slow at first, he wants to tease you for as long as possible. But your impatience wins as you lightly close your thighs around his head for him, signalling for him to speed up. Your pussy is practically throbbing for him.

He begins to lick and suck every part of you that he can reach with his mouth as the pace of his fingers picks up.

"Charles, fuck, just like that". You throw your head back in ecstasy, you can no longer maintain eye contact as your eyes shut so you can enjoy the sensation Charles is giving you down below. One of your hands grabs onto his hair as you basically shove his face into your vagina but he doesn't complain. It's easier access for him and he takes every opportunity to increase the amount of pleasure he's giving you.

"Do you like that, baby?" His voice is muffled against you.

"Yes! Oh god, yes!" You really sound desperate now but who could blame you? He's so good at this.

His pace is now relentless and you're not sure how much longer you can handle this before you end up squirting all over his face. The sounds leaving your mouth are now rolling into one long moan and your thighs are beginning to twitch around him.

"Fuck, if you keep it up like this I'm going to cum all over your face," you plead.

His eyes glisten as they look up at you. Satisfied with the mess he's creating in front of him. "I'd have no complaints," his voice vibrates against you once again but he's finished up with is assault on you. You're panting heavily.

As he uses his elbow to lift himself up, you notice that his lips and facial hair are drenched in your juices. He doesn't seem to mind though.

You hadn't noticed he was completely clothed still until he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned chest. You can't help yourself as you reach out and delicately run your fingers along his torso.

He stares down at you as he begins to take off his belt and jeans. He climbs back onto the bed and places his knees either side of your head as you instinctively reach out and begin to tug at the band of his boxers. Your hand wraps around his dick instantly, hard and fully erect.

Your movements are slow but with intent as you stare up at him and you're about to put him into your mouth but Charles has other ideas.

"No," he says with intent. "Tonight it's all about you". He shuffles back down the bed and places himself between your legs which are still open for him. He rubs his cock a few times before leaning over to place a wet, passionate kiss on your mouth.

You can taste your juices from before. They taste sweet and Charles is clearly enjoying his lips on yours again as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Missing the feel of him, you join him in rubbing his shaft and continue to stroke him until he's ready.

Once he's ready to be inside of you, he leans back on his heels and rubs his throbbing cock between your folds a few times, causing you both to moan simultaneously.

"Charles, I want you inside of me," it's barely a whisper but you've spent so much of your night thinking about this moment that you can't wait any longer. He doesn't hesitate as he pushes himself inside of you. He lets out a soft moan as he feels you wrap around him.

His first few movements are slow, allowing you both to get used to each other before he starts to build up his pace. The only sounds you can hear is your skin slapping against each other along with your soft whimpers.

That soon changes as Charles' speed and rhythm picks up and he's soon fucking you with some momentum.

"Oh my god, Charles," you've said this so many times tonight but you don't care. Not when he's making you feel like this. He's fucking you harder now as if he's trying to fuck you into the bed. You grab onto any part of him that you can, clawing your nails into his back. You wrap your legs around his waist so he can be closer to you.

He brings you even closer together as he starts to kiss you again. It's sloppy and wet, the complete opposite to the intent of the movements he's making with his hips. You try to maintain the kiss but you're a moaning mess. You haven't been fucked like this in so long and it feels so good, it's almost euphoric.

"Charles, this feels so good," you cry as you hold his face in your hands. "Fuck, [Y/N], you feel so good". He's starting to sound desperate too.

He feels like he's losing his control as he can feel his core tighten with pleasure. He places his hand around your throat and continues to fuck you even harder into the mattress. You really hope his friends are still playing music in the living room as the cry you let out is animalistic.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm so close," you cry and you wrap your legs around him even tighter. Holding onto him for dear life as his rhythm starts to become sloppy, he's getting closer too.

"Ah shit, [Y/N], I'm going to cum any minute".

His hand is still around your throat as he leans down to kiss you again. He wants his mouth on yours as you cum for him. And it only takes another thirty seconds before you're moaning into his mouth and reaching your orgasm.

Charles' moans are becoming louder and more frequent as his movements become even sloppier.

"Where do you want me to cum?" he asks you, panting heavily.

"On my chest".

It only takes him another five thrusts before he's pulling out of you and stroking himself above you. Your hand finds it's way to his cock once more to help him finish and soon his cum is landing on your boobs and chest.

He makes sure he's given you all he has before he collapses onto the bed beside you. You both lay there for a minute or two, trying to catch your breath. Your legs are still trembling slightly and you miss the feeling of him.

It's like he reads your mind as he pulls your body against his. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto his chest so he can place a kiss on your forehead.

"That was nice, huh?" You can't help but giggle at his accent.

"Are you laughing at me?" he cries out and you find yourself laughing even harder. You place your hand on his cheek as you look down at him.

"No, it's your accent. I love it," you tell him. "And that was amazing".

You lean down and place soft kiss on his lips. You lay there for a few minutes just placing soft kisses on each other. It feels romantic and as your lips move so intimately against his, you don't realise how this night will change everything.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #julesandro #hornedravenclaws #ravioli19 #flwr-quicksilver #thatobsessedreader

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thefanficmonster · 1 month

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Piss off your parents pt.1

PART 2

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: You just wanted to rebel a little, how did it get to this?

"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.

He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.

The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...

She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.

"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.

She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.

A few too many extra shots.

He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.

"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"

Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.

"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.

They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.

"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.

"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.

"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.

He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.

But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.

That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.

He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.

With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.

He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.

He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.

His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.

Just him!

She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.

"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.

And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.

"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.

He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.

And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.

Oh if he only knew what's to come...

As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.

"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."

"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.

As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.

* * * * *

Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.

That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?

She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.

She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.

It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.

"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."

Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"

"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.

Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.

"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.

"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."

Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.

He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.

"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"

He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.

And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.

With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.

"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.

It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."

Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."

He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."

Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"

Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.

But, she's aware it's impossible.

Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.

She just knows she's about to ruin it all.

"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."

"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"

She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"

"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"

Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.

But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.

Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"

Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.

Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.

She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."

Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."

200 notes · View notes

orchidyoonkook · 6 months

Text

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week.

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures.

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August.

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again.

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night. And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning.

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation.

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on.

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on.

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead.

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go.

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY. SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN… SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth.

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say?

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her?

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t.

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her!

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type.

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it.

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again.

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history.

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself.

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it.

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything.

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores.

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate.

He chose Adaline Dupree.

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is.

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures.

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything.

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt.

You didn’t expect it to hurt.

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you.

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation.

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning.

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow.

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t.

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least? SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.”

“Thanks, me too.”

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook.

But is he just Jungkook anymore?

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else?

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles.

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her.

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried.

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great.

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do.

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes.

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses.

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth.

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried.

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago.

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally.

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together.

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship.

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence.

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted.

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created.

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now.

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world.

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty.

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task.

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes. “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point.

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone.

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him.

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her?

Oh.

Oh…

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline.

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why.

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another.

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far.

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was.

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship.

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures.

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand.

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts.

He wants real.

He wants authentic.

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead.

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet.

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him.

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too?

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy.

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue.

Don’t say shit Y/N.

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same.

At. All.

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.”

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.”

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King.

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her.

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice.

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive.

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever.

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front.

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him.

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel.

And not him.

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend.

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t.

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else.

For the person who has a boyfriend.

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you.

Because it’s you.

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him?

For being happy with who makes you happy?

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart.

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official.

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to.

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is.

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck.

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far.

More, then.

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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jackhues · 3 months

Text

in love love - alex lyon

notes: this is part of @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, and written for the amazing @2manytabsopen !! this is my first time writing for alex and honestly first time writing in a while, but i had lots of fun with this and i really hope you like it <33

summary: 3 times the world realized alex was in love with you + the 1 time you realized it

word count: 2.7k

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

gif not mine

you and alex had known each other your whole lives. as long as you could remember, it was you and him. sure, you both had friends that came and went, but at the end of it all, it was the two of you who made it through.

you made it through your elementary years, all the way to college, and now even beyond. despite graduating early, alex was still in contact with many of the friends you both made in university. it was a good thing too, because you could just go together to all the events you were invited to.

“i don’t know what i was thinking, making so many friends,” you muttered to yourself, nursing your drink.

it was late at night, and you were no longer the same person you’d been at college. instead of pulling all-nighters and partying with the crowd, you wanted to be in bed once it was dark.

“are you tired?” alex turned to face you. “we can go home if you want.”

“that’s okay,” you smiled tiredly at the tall boy. “it’s not like we get to meet up with them often. it’s been a long time since we were all out. we can stay.”

“you sure, love?” he asked, eyebrows knit in concern. “you look ready to drop.”

“i’m fine,” you promised. at his unconvinced look, you continued, “really, i’m okay. i think i just need another drink.”

“i’ll get you one,” he offered immediately, heading up to the counter to get your drink.

unbeknownst to you, some of your college friends were giggling to each other, wondering if the two of you were finally together.

“i mean, they have to be, right?” one of them whispered. “they’ve both got heart eyes for each other.”

“alex isn’t even trying to hide it,” another one laughed a little. “good for them, i guess. i always knew he liked her.”

you smiled once alex returned with your favourite drink, handing it to you.

“a special drink, for a special lady,” he grinned.

“thank you,” you took it from him, taking a sip.

indeed, all you needed was a little something in your system to get you going. you took alex’s hand, leading him to the dance floor where you ended up spending most of the night.

after some time, alex broke away from you, drifting to the edge of the dance floor and allowing himself a moment to admire you.

“so? you two finally together, huh?” one of alex’s old teammate’s wiggled his brows, sliding up next to the goalie.

“what? me and y/n? no — no, we’re just friends,” alex insisted.

“oh, really?” he asked, looking between the two of you. “i guess i haven’t seen you guys in so long, i forgot how close you were.”

alex nodded, despite the lump in his throat, before excusing himself to get some air.

your friends exchanged glances at that interaction — at alex running away, and at you now dancing with another friend, clueless to it all.

“well shit,” one of them muttered. “he’s in love with her, and he knows it.”

“but does she?”

ii.

“here, let me get that for you.”

“thank you,” you smiled as alex took the plates from your hands, placing them in the sink.

you were at a family friends house, inviting alex along to celebrate with them. since most of your family lived further away, you often celebrated the holidays and other events with them. alex was someone you’d known your entire life, and by extension, your family and family friends knew about him too.

after years of trying to convince you to bring him along to one of these gatherings, you finally caved in. it wasn’t that you were embarrassed of alex. if anything, you were a little embarrassed of your family friends.

not in a bad way. they were just loud and talkative and much more rowdy than alex’s family. you were worried how well he’d fit in if he came along.

so far, he had proved you wrong, getting along with absolutely everyone there. the younger kids kept trying to steal him to play games, the older aunts and uncles doted on him — everyone loved him.

you took the broom out, getting ready to sweep around the house a little. everyone was busy cleaning up after themselves or gossipping with each other. might as well make yourself useful.

“here, let me do that,” alex appeared next to you, reaching for the broom.

“it’s alright, i got it,” you assured him. “besides, you’re the guest. go sit and talk with the older people. i’ve got this.”

“y/n,” he said your name in a strict tone. “give me the broom, i’ll sweep up around here. you’ve been on your feet all day, take a seat and let me do this.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, realizing he wasn’t going to budge. “okay, go grab the dustpan. i’ll sweep, you collect it, okay?”

alex sighed, “all right, fine. but you’re sitting down and hanging out with everyone after this. no more work for you.”

“alex, that’s not how it works—”

“if someone needs you to do a chore, i’ll step in,” he said in a strict tone. he softened his voice, “you did a lot today, okay? i can do a little bit of work around here too. i’m not entirely useless, you know?”

you laughed a little, “i can think of multiple instances where you were entirely useless.”

“right now,” alex amended. “i know how to sweep and do the dishes and stuff. i couldn’t help you out in the morning, but i can now. so let me, please.”

“okay, okay,” you raised your hands in surrender. “i’ll sweep and then take a seat. happy?”

“very,” he grinned, happy that he’d finally won this argument.

behind you, one of your cousins shared a look with their sibling, wondering if anyone else just saw what happened.

“that’s so weird,” one of them whispered.

“i wonder how long it’ll take for them to get married,” another thought aloud.

“oh, he’s in love love,” another one muttered.

they looked at you, sweeping the floor with a little smile on your face, and behind you, alex watching you with the same smile on his face. it was so painfully obvious, just by the way he watched you.

“i hope she realizes it soon.”

iii.

“come on, come on, come on,” you grabbed alex’s hand, pulling him along.

there was a new cafe that opened down the street, and based on the reviews, it had some really nice hot chocolate. alex was the one who’d found their page on instagram, forwarding the message to you.

so of course, you dragged him along for your first visit.

the interior of the cafe was chic, with a checkerboard floor and a cozy interior. you immediately claimed one of the couches at the store, scanning the qr code for the menu.

before you even opened it up, alex spoke, “you’re getting a hot chocolate?”

“i didn’t even look at the menu yet,” you rolled your eyes.

“yeah, but it’s why you came here, right?” he asked. “to try their french hot chocolate?”

you opened your mouth to argue, but simply sighed. “yeah, that’s why i came here.”

“that’s what i thought,” a satisfied smirk appeared on alex’s face. “so, one french hot chocolate for you, and one cinnamon hot chocolate for me.”

you gave him a thumbs up in approval, letting him place the order at the counter while you saved your seats. you pulled out your phone, scrolling a little as you waited for alex to return.

near your seat, an older woman smiled to herself, waving to her own husband at the counter giving their order. she remembered their earlier days together, when her husband first learned her order and immediately went to the counter. it might be a really small thing to someone else, but she’d associated that act with his love for her. she wondered if one day you’d do the same thing with alex.

“i’m back,” alex announced his return as he took a seat next to you.

“yes, i can see that,” you replied.

he flicked your forehead, “congrats, you have eyes.”

“you’re such a child,” you laughed.

“you’re just jealous because you’ll be old and wrinkly while i stay young and hot.”

the two of you kept it together for three seconds, before bursting out into laughter.

your waitress smiled to herself, placing your drinks on the table in front of you. the cafe was new and it didn’t get many customers yet. seeing you two in here laughing loudly warmed her heart.

she wished she’d get to experience that kind of love one day, with someone who looked at her the way alex looked at you. as if he’d seen the entire world and decided you were his favourite thing in it.

“enjoy your drinks,” she smiled at you two, heading back.

“thank you,” you smiled at her, reaching for your hot chocolate.

you smiled at the sight of how delicious the hot chocolate looked, reaching towards it as if it were gold. to you, it might’ve been.

the second you took that first sip, you sighed in content, melting back into the couch and closing your eyes.

“so, it’s delicious?” alex asked, taking a sip of his own. he blinked in surprise, “okay, wow. this is pretty good. you know, y/n, i think you were onto something when you fell into that hot chocolate obsession.”

“i’m always right,” you grinned, turning your head to look at him.

alex caught his breath at the sight of you. after all these years, and you still managed to make him speechless with just a look.

“always,” he merely agreed.

you smiled triumphantly, going back to your drink. around you, the people whispered — they always whispered the same thing, but you never heard it.

“they’re so cute,” one person would whisper.

“oh, he’s so in love with her,” another would say.

“too bad she doesn’t even know it,” one would sigh.

“she knows it, she just doesn’t realize it,” another would respond. “she doesn’t even realize how in love she is with him.”

and alex would hear it all, and he’d keep his mouth shut. because whether you knew or whether you didn’t wasn’t the question.

the question was whether you’d do anything once you did realize.

iv.

you looked at your caller i.d., trying not to cry at the sight of alex’s face.

even though you saw him a day ago, the sight of him was so comforting to you. especially after the shit day that you were having at work.

“hello,” you answered, wanting nothing more than to hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“hey — wait, what’s wrong?” he asked. you could imagine the furrow in his brow, the exact face he was making as he continued. “are you crying? y/n, are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you promised, taking a deep breath. “it’s just — it’s been a long day alex. i’m happy you called, i needed to hear your voice.”

“anytime,” alex responded immediately. “i’m always here for you, you know?”

“i know,” you smiled to yourself, because he was. “what’s up with you though? why’d you call?”

“i was just calling because i was bored,” he responded a little sheepishly. “i wanted to bother you a bit.”

“instead you’re comforting me,” you laughed a little.

“it’s an honour to do so,” he responded, followed by a small thwack sound. you laughed, imagining him pounding his chest to play the part, even though you couldn’t even see him.

the two of you continued talking for a bit, until you finally ended the call. you took a deep breath, looking at the time on your phone. two more hours, and then you were free.

you locked the door behind you, placing your bag and keys down.

you were finally home, and ready to put this long day behind you. except now that you were inside, you could hear some noise from somewhere in your house. music was playing softly and a familiar voice was singing along. the smell of something baking made its way to you — banana bread, you thought happily. after a long day, you needed something like that to cheer you up.

you followed the source of the noise, stopping at the sight of alex in the kitchen making banana bread and singing along to the song. you watched him for a minute, smiling to yourself as he spun around and put on a little show.

when the song ended, you clapped, laughing as alex jumped at the sudden noise.

“bravo, that was beautiful!” you cheered. “encore, encore, encore!”

“ah, as much as ii would love to do so for my wonderful fans, the banana bread i am baking for a very wonderful woman will burn if i don’t take it out now,” he spoke in a posh accent before reaching into the oven, pulling the tray out and setting it to cool.

you looked around at the kitchen, noticing for the first time how spotless it was. you’d left some dishes this morning because you were in a rush, and you were pretty sure you made a mess last night while cooking dinner. you were normally pretty clean, but you were just in a lazy mood these past few days.

“did you clean the kitchen?” you asked alex.

he looked up at you, shrugging to himself, “yeah. when you said you had a bad day, i wanted to make you feel a little bit better. so i came over, cleaned a bit, and cooked.”

“thank you,” you whispered, your heart heavy with too many unspoken emotions.

“you’d do the same for me,” alex shrugged.

it was true. you had done and would continue to do the same thing for him. people often thought you two were just friends, but you were so much more than that. you were everything for the other. alex was the one you’d run to when you got good news or bad news. you were the one alex would find for comfort or to share his joy.

you never questioned it, but you finally realized that somewhere along the way, with the jokes and the laughter and the unbreakable friendship, love had also blossomed.

“y/n?” alex called your name. “are you okay?”

you blinked up at him, realizing that you’d basically zoned out in the middle of the kitchen. lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t know how to reply.

and so you blurted out, “are you in love with me?”

alex froze, staring at you for long enough that you began to wonder if you wildly miscalculated. maybe those lingering gazes and longer than necessary hugs were something you imagined. maybe you two were just friends in his eyes.

“and if i was?” he asked, he met your eyes, not a hint of hesitation in them. “if i was in love with you for as long as i could remember, longer than i even knew what the word meant? that i’ve been waiting for you to notice for years now? what would you say?”

you looked at him, trying to tell if he was joking. it didn’t look like he was.

“i’d say why didn’t you tell me years ago?” you responded honestly. “that way, we’d already be past then. and then… and then i’d tell you to kiss me already because i’ve been in love with you for a long time too.”

alex stared at you, trying to figure out if you’d actually just said that. you hear practically the gears turning in his head, you could imagine the questions he was asking himself.

“it’s not a dream,” you smiled, answering his biggest one.

“oh thank god,” he muttered to himself, reaching you in two long strides.

you gasped as his hands grabbed your waist, your own arms reaching up to grab his shirt. without a moment of hesitation, alex leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss just as sweet as the confession.

oh, he’s in love, you thought to yourself with a little smile.

it’s okay, because so were you.

#naqia writes!#alex lyon #alex lyon x reader #alex lyon imagine #alex lyon imagines #alex lyon blurb #alex lyon fic #detroit red wings #detroit red wings fic #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #hockey x reader #hockey x you #hockey fic

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bakubunny · 5 months

Text

twelve days of kinkmas: a little tradition (1)

part 2

a/n: starting the month with a little bakugo fluff. was gonna do aizawa smut first, but @neon-gothicc inspired this with her denki fic so here u go i hope u like it friend.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

prompt: mistletoe

tags: pro!bakusquad, mention of alcohol, katsuki has anxiety, shy!reader, first kiss

see the prompts and join the fun here

If his plan didn’t work, Denki was a dead man. He knew that much. It was early December, and Eijiro and Mina were hosting the first holiday party of the year. After telling them his idea weeks ago when they’d announced the party, Mina had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and Eijiro was all stupid romantic grins at the thought.

As the couple got decor in place, setting out food and drink for the event, Denki helped set up decorations by hanging things that were a little too high for Mina to reach on her own. When everything was ready and the clock struck seven, people slowly began trickling in as the party started.

Katsuki walked in the front door after Sero. He looked around the room, not noticing much at first. Then he saw it, and turned around to walk out. Sero grabbed him by the coat and pulled him back in.

“Oh, no Bakubro. You dipped on every holiday party last year. You’re staying,” he said.

Denki, the little fucker he is, hung a sprig of mistletoe over every single doorway in the apartment that Katsuki could see. The two blonde men locked eyes, one with a glare and the other a nervous smile.

Yeah, he was a dead man.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

You were in the main living area where most everyone was gathered aside from him and a few others playing a game of some kind, looking like a dream, and Katsuki didn’t know how to handle himself. He couldn’t pull his eyes from the pretty red nail polish that complimented your outfit. It resonated in his head, the way you laughed so genuinely at every one of Sero’s stupid jokes as you sat near him. He felt like he was going to be sick. At some point, Katsuki caught your eyes glancing at the doorways once you’d noticed the first one, but you’d seemed unphased.

Of course she doesn’t care, you fucking idiot, he thought. You’re the only one who’s bothered by it.

As the night dwindled on, every once in a while people would “follow tradition,” giving chaste kisses to their significant other.

He’d hardly spent time with you at all. Truthfully, he didn’t have the courage to.

You’d been on his mind for years, little bits of banter going back and forth as you worked at the front desk of the agency. But he never had the courage to ask you out on a date. It felt stupid; Katsuki had all the confidence and smooth talk in the world when he’d first become a hero, knew just what to say to charm the pants off of any person he wanted to fuck. Then he met you three years ago, and it all came to a screeching halt. His stomach got tight, his mouth went dry. He’d fumble things in his hands for no reason, feel his cheeks heat up whenever you spoke to him. He fucking hated it. His friends never shut up on it, either.

Katsuki noticed there was no one in the main entryway to the dining room where snacks and drinks were displayed, so he took his chance and managed to get through the entrance and then to the bathroom unscathed. He slumped down onto the toilet and started at the floor for a long moment. Red, tired eyes looked back at him when he got up to wash his hands.

“I should just fucking leave. Don’t wanna be here anyway,” he mumbled to himself.

Another knot tightly wound itself in his gut.

It was too loud. Everyone was getting drunk. And tonight, he just didn’t care. He knew his friends must have something up their sleeve, convinced that he gives a single fuck about you when he’s told them time and again that, no, he doesn’t. That they need to butt the hell out of his love life. Because if he were to admit to them that he did, they’d only get worse.

Katsuki also knew that if he ended up under the mistletoe with you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold himself back.

“Just talk to him, honey!” Mina said quietly with a smile. “Or go take his seat. That’ll start something.”

Your face flared with heat; you’d been debating on approaching Katsuki all night. He looked miserable sitting across the room, but was engaged in other conversation for the most part.

“No, you’re crazy,” you replied.

You stood up and went to grab a glass of water from the dining area. Denki called out as you walked away.

“Hey, wait, can you get me-”

You ran into a wall of muscle with your head turned back to look the other way. Katsuki stood in front of you seemingly dumbfounded and not having noticed you either.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!”

“‘S fine, you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Kiiiiiss,” Sero shouted from across the room.

“Yeah, it’s tradition. You have to, bad luck if you don’t,” Denki quipped.

One look up and sure enough, you were smack under the entryway.

You stepped back with a nervous laugh and met Katsuki’s gaze. “N-no, it’s okay.”

“C’mon, just a little peck,” Eijiro said.

Katsuki watched your cheeks flush, and the words came out of his idiot mouth before he could stop them.

“Dunceface is right, y’know. Tradition’s tradition,” he mumbled.

With a smile and a sigh, you relented. You pushed onto your toes to reach Katsuki’s cheek and kissed him. As you pulled away, two large hands grabbed your face. Katsuki kissed you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

The sudden uproar of noise in the room faded in Katsuki’s head as he kissed you once, twice, and again. His heart hammered in his chest. By the second and third one, you were kissing him back. He almost couldn’t believe it.

For once, he thought, Dunceface had a pretty good idea.

sorry i forgot to add the tag list 🤦‍♀️

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @pastelbakugou @gold24fish

#idk if i like this but it gave me fluffy feels so 🤷‍♀️#it’s giving slight ‘michael in the bathroom’ vibes #if u haven’t heard that song i like it a lot but it’s completely unrelated to this #I hc katsuki as someone who’s got a fuck ton of anxiety and self hate under all that anger #maybe it’s incorrect but it feels right #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou fluff #Bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou x reader #x reader #bakubunny #f!reader #kinkmas 2023 #fluffmas 2023 #aged up characters

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gallifreyanhotfive · 4 months

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 3

The Master's father, Marnal, wrote an episode for Star Trek but took his name off it after they changed it too much.

The Fifth Doctor took Tegan back and time to kill that same would-be-dictator as a baby but was also unable to go through with it.

Nyssa once turned the Fifth Doctor into a vampire.

The Time Lords created the Were Lords, a species of lycanthropic soldiers who could regenerate, to fight for them in the Vampire Wars.

The Tenth and Fourteenth Doctors have different enough blood that the Fourteenth Doctor was able to resist blood control that used the Tenth Doctor's blood.

The Garvond is a monstrous entity in the APC Net of the Matrix composed of all the demented, evil sides of the Time Lords.

The First Great Time War was between the Time Lords and the Order of the Black Sun.

The Veil was fond of the Twelfth Doctor and considered them to be companions. The Veil hoped that the Twelfth Doctor would take them with him when he escaped from the confession dial.

Jack Harkness described the Midnight entity as someone who could eat its way into a person's brain and steal their voice. Given that it is unknown where he got this information, this suggests that Jack might have had an encounter at some point.

Both the Doctor and the Master have used the name "Merlin" before.

The final incarnation of the Master was a highly destructive entropy wave in one timeline.

The Eleventh Doctor once returned to the Library with Amy Pond, but he never mentioned River Song. They encountered Book Monsters.

The Doctor's first TARDIS was a Type 50, but they were left behind when the Doctor ran away from Gallifrey. This left them angry and hurt that the Doctor had replaced them, so they ran off from Gallifrey to find him.

According to the Seventh Doctor, the Rani and her giant rodent came to his graduation party.

There exists a canned drink called Sontaran Up that a Sontaran was seen drinking.

The Sixth Doctor's method for fighting the Weeping Angels included winking one eye at a time, so the Angels were always being observed. Given that he was almost immediately sent back in time where he encountered the Tenth Doctor, this isn't a very good method.

Due to similarities between the life stories of the Doctor and the Devil, there are many races who believe they are the same being.

The Thirteenth Doctor, Yaz, and Dan once watched a production of Cinderella. While trying to make it more exciting, the Doctor accidentally replaced all the characters and props with the real versions, who began to attack each other and the audience.

The Doctor had thirteen children before running away on Gallifrey who were all killed (or perhaps a better word would be 'culled') by the Watch after Susan's birth.

The Doctor has had other children over the years (although they did not recognize all of them as such) including but not limited to Miranda Dawkins, Edward Grove, the Sound Creature, Daqar Keep, Jenny, and the Sapling.

Gostak was one of the First Doctor's tutors who he admired very much, but similar to Borusa, he went mad and had to be stopped by several incarnations of the Doctor.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

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pablitogavii · 4 months

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Best Friends Little Sister Pt. 1

Here is the very first part..hope you enjoy reading this storyline! There will be MANY parts if you like the story 💗💗💗

Fucking great! I've barely been here twenty four hours and I'm already in so much fucking trouble!

When i finally convinced my parents to let me go to Barcelona for uni, they only agreed if it meant staying with my older brother Pedri and not making any problems to his very important football career. He was always the golden boy in the household..I was kind of like a wild goose.

Of course I promised to behave..I would basically promise anything just so they let me go! Besides my best friend Masa was going too!

Tonight was a big event..back to school party night..with some after party VIP event which I of course had tickets for knowing who my brother is in these circles. Masa and I didn't think twice than to sneak out night before first day of classes and enjoy some privileges having a famous brother gives.

We promised not to drink..but beer pong seemed irresistible at the time which then turned into some shots and finally we needed a ride back home. A handsome looking black man walked up to me offering another drink but I refused. I was already getting sick of everything I had..and I wanted to go home.

"Hmm you know who I am guapa? I'm Vinicius Jr.." he said slurring his words..now that I took a look at him I obviously knew the guy..how could one miss the diamond chain he had on with his name on it..poser! His hand wrapped around my waist shamelessly and I felt sickened to my stomach..I should be home now!

"And you know who I am!? I'm Pedri's little sister and a Culé for life so get lost!" I said pushing him off and walking to make a phone call to only person other than my brother I knew in town..Pablo Gavi.

Morning Pedri picked me up from the airport Gavi was there..they were just getting back from training and we went to have some lunch together. Of course we were stopped by hoards of girls screaming both of their names..it was kind of embarrassing to think of my brother as alpha male in Barca but couldn't say I didn't get girls being obsessed with Gavi..he was certainly something else in person.

Broad shoulders..veiny arms..long fingers..fuck! And those eyes looking at you like he's already seen you naked..everything screamed DOMINANCE!! Don't even get me started on his hair..and did you know what he called me...!?

"Hola pequeñita, que necesitas ahora?" Pablo's groggy but still sexy voice broke my train of thought and I knew that I just woke him up.Better him than my brother I thought..I explained everything and he was on his way to pick us up. That was lucky that he didn't call my brother and snitched on me!

"Alright, hop in!" he pulled up getting out and opening both doors for me and my best friend to get inside..what a gentleman!

"Who got you into this party!? Aren't you like underage?" he asked me sitting at the passenger seat while Masa was already passed out in the back. I showed him the fake I brought from him seeing his jaw clenching..fuck I was getting so horny by it now!!

"Besides I faked Pedri's signature for the owner and he looked the other way for tonight..it's back to school night" you explain giggling at your own brilliant idea looking at Pablo's still serious face.

"You're trouble.." Pablo's voice was low and somehow demanding and I felt my panties water thinking of all the ways he could tame me right now..fuck I was so screwed if he kept biting his lower lips like that!

When we arrived at my best friends house, he helped me take her into dorm..she's so lucky she's living alone! Then he drove me to Pedri's mansion on the periphery of town..I learned during the drive that his mansion isn't far away either.

Must be nice being a young millionaire..smoking hot and wanted by every female in Spain..what is this I felt?? Was I really jealous!?

"Do you ever smile grumpy!?" I giggled as he opened the door seeing that I already took off my heels sighing before picking them up and carrying me bridal style into the house with a hidden spare key.

"I prefer to sleep at 3AM and not smile, vale!?" he said and I kept giggling like he was saying the funniest joke while resting my head onto his shoulder.

"You know about the spare key too..you guys are really close friends huh?" I say poking his cheek but he moves my finger while nodding his head.

"But..you'll lie for me..hmm..q..que mono" I poke him again as he quietly walks upstairs and into my room locking the door behind himself. He sushed me but I giggled making him cover my mouth with his veiny hand. Fuck it turned me on!

"Bueno, you're home safe and I can go..just don't wake Pedri up bueno?" he said putting me down but I reached to grab his hand and pull him back shyly..I didn't want him to go..fuck I wanted him so bad right now.

"Que haces pequeñita, huh? Eres mala..muy mala" he whispers the last part walking closer until my back his the wall and I were trapped there by his strong arms.

"Porque?" I play dumb biting my lip as Pablo raised my chin slowly licking his lips while looking at my hungrily.

"Your brother is right next door..and here you are..pulling me close..driving me crazy with that dress..and that sweet scent..you know I'm a man too" he slip his arm around my waist and a shiver moved down my spine as he whispered things into my ear.

"I'm so weak for you..f..fuck!" he whispered kissing the side of my neck and my moan rather loudly making him smirk but cover my mouth quickly.

"Do you want to get us in trouble pequeñita, huh?" he said and I shook my head making him uncover my lips and move closer making me unable to breathe from excitement.

"Mi nena buena.." he said kissing my lips passionately as my whole body melted into his strong grasp. Things were happening fast..as both of us ended up with our naked bodies interconnected and completely lost in each other forgetting about anything else.

Alarm was ringing as my head was pounding and I woke up resting on Pablo's naked chest...it's the first day of school..fuck!! Pedri's best friend was naked in my bed..FUCK!

Pablo somehow managed to sneak out since Pedri left super early for practice but he was late which made all the boys tease him during rondo.

"He must of been with a girl!" Ansu said passing him the ball and Pablo avoided Pedri's eye contact at all times. He screwed up badly this time..his little sister was off limits! Fuck!

"At least tell us she was a good fuck" Balde smirked and Pablo hit the ball little too hard hitting him in process before walking to run the mile. He was angry at himself, but also couldn't stop smelling me on his skin..I was his secret craving he couldn't stop thinking about.

Masa noticed my tired eyes the moment we met in class but she just thought it was a hangover from last night. I didn't tell her about Pablo..how was I supposed to start that conversation!? Not even one day in a new city and I already slept with my brother's best friend! Really good job Y/n!

pedri: me and gavi are picking you up at 3

me: and gavi?

pedri: yah, is that a problem? i'm his ride home after practice

me: no problem! see you at 3 hermano <3

"Fuck!" I said and Masa picked it up during lunch asking what was going on. I just made up a quick lie how I was sick from shots last night and needed to use a bathroom real quick before last period. Now I am lying to both my brother and best friend..fantastic job stupid!

When they arrived, I first looked at Pablo who was definitely checking me out in my little school uniform..I felt the same chills from last night. Mi nena buena..ran through my mind the entire time as I played with the edge of my school skirt.

"How was school hermanita?" Pedri asked and I just shortly answered that it was fine going back onto my phone avoiding any possible eye contact with Pablo who was clearly as uncomfortable as me in this moment.

"I need to get gas quickly..you two just wait here vale?" he said and before I could protest he was parked at the station and gone. My stomach was rumbling from hunger and nervousness and finally it was Pablo who broke the silence.

"You ate anything today?" he asked genuinely concerned but I just sassed at him for not texting me after last night.

"Since when is that any of your business!?" I say leaning forward to grab a pack of gum but my hair got into his face and I turned to look at him for a second..that's when all hell broke loose.

Gavi was all over me in the back seat of my brothers car pulling on my hair while kissing deeply as I ran my fingers through his curls..fuck I missed this for the whole day!

"Que hacemos!?" I say breathlessly after we pulled away for air and he pulled me closer resting his forehead against mine for a few seconds.

"I don't know pequeñita.." he answered quickly returning to his original position seeing Pedri paying and leaving the station before filling the tank.

"Everything alright here? If you're warm you can turn the AC on hermano?" Pedri said noticing Pablo's sweaty forehead and I giggled to myself in the backseat.

"You ready for tonight hermano? I heard those models will be there too, we can split them evenly if you want, huh?" Pedri was talking about this party tonight they were going to..somehow I was in such a bad mood suddenly.

"Whatever cabrón!" was all Pablo said but I were agitated nevertheless..of course he wanted a model like every other footballer! Why would he want a boring little schoolgirl. When we arrived home, I went out the car door slamming it hard and rushing to my bedroom.

"Que pasa con ella!?" Pedri said annoyed for mistreating his precious baby (the car ofc!) before he and Pablo went inside to play some FIFA and make plans for tonight.

"I don't care what they're planning!" I kept repeating but nevertheless ended up eavesdropping on my brother's conversation picking up the name of the club for the infamous party..a mischievous idea came to mind.

me: you in a mood for another VIP party??

Masa: you don't have to ask me that ever once tia!

Perfect! I thought to myself while picking up a perfect mouth watering outfit for tonight..game is on Gavi!

outfit I chose is tight black tight skirt with gold sparkling top..it was provocative but still lady like.Marching necklace and choker..I knew Pablo has the thing for it from how tightly he held my neck last night.

"Ready to go girlfriend??" Masa picked me up and I went to the club passing the line and walking up straight to the security guard.

"My name is Y/n Gonzalez..Pedri's sister" I say and the security guard didn't seem to believe me at first but when I showed him some pictures he nodded his head.

"And I'm supposed to believe you're both 18?" he said and I smirked giving him a paper with my number on it.

"You're supposed to believe I'll get you tickets for the next El Classico if you let me in" I said and he nodded taking the paper and moving to the side. Good thing everyone in this city is a football fan.

I passed through the dense crowd looking around for Pablo while Masa smirked at every cute looking guy at the bar. She knew her way around a crowd always winning in the number of free drinks she gets for the night.

There he was in all his glory..wearing all black..and with a girl sitting on his lap..her breasts were certainly bigger than her brain and almost spilling out of her shirt. I felt angry..and Masa noticed who I were looking at.

"I knew it! Next time you try to lie to me think twice! It's he you came here for tonight" she said and I pulled her away not wanting to get Pablo's attention when I were in such sour mood.

"I wanted to surprise him but looks like he has company.." I say and Masa smirks noticing Hector already eyeing me from head to toe..or rather from butt to breasts.

"So? You can have company too!" she said as he walked up to me offering a drink and I nodded wanting to show him that two can play the same game. Not even few minutes of dancing with Hector did you feel strong grasp pulling you away and into a secluded corner. Your back hit the wall roughly and you were eye to eye with furious Pablo Gavi...fuck he looked pissed off!

"And what exactly are you doing here pequeñita!?" he said dangerously low and your throat tightened as you looked into his dark eyes..fuck was he beautiful under the dim.

I couldn't make a sound from how nervous I was that he was this close to me right now and he knew exactly the kind of effect he was having on me..fucking asshole!

Next thing I knew his lips were back on devouring mine feverishly while his hands lowered on my waist and grabbed my butt shamelessly squeezing and making me moan into his mouth. The the image of that girl on his lap returned and you pulled away from him wiping my lips from his kiss..I were still angry.

"Can't believe you noticed me from her giant breasts!" I sass about to walk away but his grip tightened leaving bruises on my hips but I didn't mind..not if they were Pablo's. He kissed me again.

"Never wipe away my kisses off yourself! She came onto me..and it's cute that you're jealous pequeñita" he said moving my hair behind my ear.

"Just like Hector's hands came onto my butt.." I wanted to fight him back but then I felt a hard smack on my rear making me jump and him smirk victoriously..he was so good with playing with me!

"If that ever happens again I'll make your butt so red you won't be able to sit for weeks.." he whispered into your ear and you closer your eyes enjoying his lips on your neck and shoulders..fuck you were in public and didn't have a single care int he world!

"What am I to you P..Pablo..?" you moaned the question while he left his marks on your neck playing with your choker before wrapping his hand around your throat and looking you directly in the eyes.

"You're only mine pequeñita!" smirks kissing your lips one more time before taking your hand and sneaking you towards his car to drive you home.

Around that same time, Hector asked your brother about you...what a terrible mistake. The boy ended up with a bruise on his eye and you were grounded for a week when Pedri found out you were at the party that night..this was nothing compared to him knowing who took you home from that party ;)

#gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barca #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #pablogavixreaderfluff #pablogavixreadersmut #gavi x vini #gavi x yn #gavi x you #gavi x reader

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mediocre-shark-tales · 3 months

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Colby Brock x Reader

Summary - Colby didn't realize that another girl had been trying to pull him away from you. He fucks up big time and has to earn back your trust, earn back that unconditional love he's close to losing.

WARNINGS - angst, mentions of cheating, depressed thoughts, self hate, arguing, mentions of light violence, and swearing.

Masterlist

You sat in your room, tears cascading down your face. You were currently living with Sam, Kat, and Colby in one large house. You and Katrina did have your own rooms, but they had been transformed into small office spaces where you both could do work from home or anything you needed to do without distractions around. Your office space did involve a small single person bed for the nights where you would get lost in work, or so overloaded that you would stay locked away in there. But Colby did have a key to your room and would usually carry you away to his room. That was where you normally stayed, since you two had been dating for so long. It was typical by now for any couple to be comfortable with sharing a room. So you two did.

Today had been your 25th birthday, Katrina being your closest friend had planed you a big party inviting all the friends you had made over the last few years. Seeing everyone was so great, especially Jake and Tara. Even though they were no longer together, they still were my close friends. On a scale they would sit together right below Katrina. As the night went on, I had become more and more frustrated. There was still no sign of my boyfriend, the one person I should have been guaranteed to celebrate with.

It was only 3 hours into the party when he posted on his instagram. It was him and Stan, they were hanging out together at some random bar or nightclub. I didn't pay attention that much, only that Colby was with Stas. That he forgot my birthday and had gone to a bar with another girl without telling me before hand.

Some may think that is insecure and jealous of me to expect him to tell me when he hangs out with girls. However when both of us are popular YouTubers who have fans watching and theorizing about our every move on a daily basis. Honesty about where we are and who we are with is the best way to keep our relationship happy and stable. I was already getting spam from comments trying to tel me Colby must be a cheat this time for hanging out with Stas on my birthday without me. They knew I wasn't there cause all of my friends and I had made a post about my party. Them wishing me happy birthday on different socials.

After seeing that text, I had begun overly drinking trying my best to get wasted. Jake, Tara, and Kat were keeping close eyes on me the whole time. Sometimes they tried to slow me down, or calm me down, anything that would get me to stop pushing myself. Sam had even told me that he was on my side about this whole mess up from Colby. He was trying his best to get in contact with his friend. But all of that was to no avail.

Which is why I now laid in my bed, locked away in my own room. I had stolen Colby's key to my room from him. He always kept it in the same drawer in his room. It was rare that he needed to use it so he always left it in the same place. I had thrown it onto my desk with my own key after locking the door.

It had been 1 hour since everyone told me goodbye and left back to their homes. I stared at my ceiling, the time I had spent crying had finally begun to lull me to sleep.

However when the front door opened, I could hear the footsteps of someone coming closer and closer to my room. When they tried the door handle, that is when I knew it must have been Colby. He tried knocking on the door, but I continued to ignore his attempts.

I even heard Sam talking to him. "Leave her alone Colby" He said with venom dripping from his voice. "You fucked up, and while you do owe her an apology and explanation, she had an emotional breakdown. You know what that means right? Maybe you don't since you had the audacity to forget such an important day. Well she went and got herself wasted, I was sure she would blackout or throw up in a matter of minutes after she started. So even if she was awake, she would be in no way able to talk to you." Sam finished. "But I-" Colby started but sam cut him off. "she could barely get up here by herself Colby. Jake, Tara, and Kat had to convince her in anyway possible to stop drinking and go to bed. You know what she talked about the whole time?" Sam asked. I heard another pair of footsteps come up, Katrina. She spoke finishing Sam's story for him. "She started to talk about everything she 'thinks' is wrong about herself. Don't you remember how many guys broke her heart like this Colby? You and I were her closest friends at the time. The way she came running to us back then, well that's exactly what happened tonight. She's in there probably covered in tear stains thinking the worst of herself. Until she found out where you were, she would ask us if we had heard from you yet. In a room of all her favorite people she still looked for you. She wouldn't have cared if you were just late, she just wanted to celebrate her birthday with you." I heard Katrina scoff before continuing. "And to think, she had spent a week preparing for your birthday, spending all of her time that day with you just last month. You couldn't even remember her birthday."

Sam spoke up once more. "Colby we are so disappointed in you, You better fix this, make it up to her. For now though, just go to bed and leave her alone for the night. She deserves that much from you." Colby said nothing more before walking off. Sam and Katrina also leaving to their room moments later. My body slowly gave out only a few minutes later, succumbing to the sweet release that accompanied well earned sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, my head had a dull small ache. Looking at myself in the mirror across from my bed. I saw that I looked like a mess. So I got up, changing into a pair of sweats and a random hoodie of mine. I then brushed out my hair and put it up into a messy bun. Checking myself over, I grabbed my phone and room key before heading out. I locked the door behind me, before waltzing down to the kitchen. I was in need of some water, I felt the dehydration buzzing through my system.

Turning the corner into the kitchen I saw Sam and Katrina. Across from them sat Colby and Stas. Colby looked like he slept horribly, Stas never once faltered the smile on her face. Katrina was scowling at them but gave me a sympathetic smile. Sam was the one to speak seeing me. "Hey y/n, there's some water bottles in the fridge for you. We left some medicine to help with the hangover on the counter over. The two burgers next to it are also your to help the hang over." He pointed to the counter where the meds and burgers sat. I nodded. "Thanks Sam."

Within the next two steps, Colby was already trying to get up and come over to me. "Y/n I'm so sorry-" I put my hand up towards him and he stopped mid step. "Now is not the time Brock, We will talk later, not while I'm suffering from a hangover. Especially when I have barely had any real time to process what the fuck you did last night. So sit you ass back down and continue with your conversation that I so terribly interrupted." He returned to his seat sadly, watching me with worry.

With that Stas got up coming over to me. "What is your problem y/n? he's just trying to explain himself, he deserves more respect from someone who just let their insecurity take over on some random night." I shook my head and rolled my eyes. She didn't deserve shit from me. In the next second my head was forced to the side, my left cheek slowly increasing in a hot burning sensation. The others yelling at Stas for slapping me. When I looked back at her, I watched her face fall from the angry smirk she gave me. I looked at her with the exact same blank stare I was giving her before. No reaction to her actions like she wanted.

"Actually Anastasia, I wasn't insecure about him being with you. I could care less because I know Colby has long gotten past whatever minuscule amount of adoration he held for you. The only girl he wants to be with is me. What I am upset about is that my boyfriend, forgot my birthday and instead spent the day with someone else. He could have hung out with anyone else in the world, I would still be the same way. Oh but keep trying to steal him away sweetie, maybe if you are lucky enough he may change his mind. However if you have a brain behind those eyes, then you would know to give up now and move the fuck on." I spoke to her in the same dead flat tone that my face showed.

I picked up my burgers and meds, grabbed a water bottle and walked out of the room. On the way back up to my room I could hear Kat yelling. "Stas, get the fuck out of our house. I don't want to hear from you or see you for a long time. Maybe until you know how to get your act together and move on from your hopeless love. Y/n used to be your goddman friend, how could you hurt her happiness just cause e you were crushing on her man!? Nope! Don't even try to explain yourself right now! OUT!" I smiled, I was glad to know that Kat would pick me over her without hesitation. I never wanted her to have to pick between me and Stas when the two of us fell out. But right now, it was nice to know someone had my side.

I opened the door to my separate room and went in. The door shut behind me as I sat down at my computer. After taking the meds, I began to edit some footage for a vlog I had gotten last week. Occasionally I had some bites of burger, this was how I was going to destress and calm down from that whole interaction. About 30 minutes later there was a knock at my door. "Come in." Glacing back I saw Colby open the door and peek in. "is it really okay for me to come in babe?" I sighed. I would have to get this over eventually.

"Alright, I can take a break, come in and sit." I turned around and watched him walk slowly over to my bed sitting down next to me. I looked at him and spoke first. "You have 5 minutes tops to explain yourself or whatever you wanted to tell me, then it's my turn to talk without interruption no matter what I say." He nodded and began.

"y/n, I am so sorry for what I did. I completely forgot the one day a year to celebrate you and just you. I wasn't actually planning to meet stas that day, I was actually attending a sponsorship meeting for Sam and I. She texted me asking if I had time to go to the bar with her and hang out. After that long and boring meeting I was in need of a stress relief. But this isn't my excuse or my way to push the blame of me. It is my fault for forgetting in that moment about you. I promise you that I love you and only you. Whatever it takes and no matter how long it takes, I will make it up to you. I only want to see you happy. I'm sorry." With that Colby finished what he wanted to say.

I took a breath and began my speech. "Colby I can forgive your forgetfulness but it's gonna take a lot for me to forget it. Right now I just need you to be honest with me, Do you still want to be with me or not? If you have lost the feeling we used to share then we can end it right now, it will hurt a lot less." Colby shook his head. "No! I love you please don't say otherwise." I sighed at his words. "Okay, then you better stick to you words cause I have spiraled for the last 12 hours, I didn't know if I could ever try love again had you really lost love or worse cheated. I have been through that too many times. You are literally my last hope." I felt ears brim and fall from my eyes again. Colby's expression softening more.

He held his arms open and I hesitantly fell into them. He slowly moved to lay us together on the small bed meant for one person. He pet my hair as I cried into his shirt. "I'm so sorry for making you feel this way. I really fucked up. I will make it up to you. I will show you how much I love you, how desperate I am to be with you, all the reasons I love you. I will do this till the day I die. I love you y/n" His words slowly soothed me to sleep. Cuddling with him as we both napped in each others arms.

Masterlist

#sam and colby #colby brock #colby x reader #angst with a happy ending #fluff #one shot

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