#// if it was a race though he gets competitive as fuck so that could be fun to watch the white puffs go ZOOM
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masquerade // gojo satoru
tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, petnames, sexual tension, teasing, possessive!gojo, jealous sex, rough sex, implied age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex
wc ⇢ 4.9k
a/n: i headcanon that gojo would definitely fuck his genderbent version
"No way, there's absolutely no way I'm losing this bet!" you declared, eyes shining with competitive determination.
Gojo simply chuckled, running a hand through his silver hair as he leveled you with an infuriatingly calm look. "We'll see about that, pretty girl. I hope you're prepared to eat those words."
You stuck your tongue out at your mentor in a childish display, ignoring the spark of heat that flared in your belly at his teasing endearment. Squaring your shoulders, you focused back on the task at hand - besting Gojo Satoru in an impromptu cursed tool duel.
The terms had been simple: whoever disarmed or immobilized the other first would get to choose their partner's costume for the upcoming Halloween soiree being thrown at the Kamo Estate. As one of the oldest and most prestigious jujutsu families, their holiday celebrations were always a lavish affair that attracted sorcerers of status from across the region. Needless to say, you were determined to avoid any humiliating outfits by claiming victory.
You circled each other warily, fingers twitching in preparation to summon your respective tools. A bead of sweat trickled down your temple as you tried to predict Gojo's opening move. Despite his perpetually laid-back demeanor, he was a finely honed weapon - powerful, precise and lightning-quick to strike.
Seconds ticked by in tense stillness. Then, without warning, Gojo was a blur of motion, pale hair whipping around his face as he twisted and struck out with one long arm. You threw yourself sideways in a desperate dodge, boots skidding across the training room floor as you pivoted to face him again. But he was already capitalizing on your evasion with a flurry of sharp jabs and slicing arcs, each one guided by a hair's breadth from clipping your defenses.
Cursing, you backpedaled furiously, mind racing to formulate a counterstrategy as you parried and deflected his relentless assault. He was aiming to herd you into an inescapable corner, you realized - a position from which he could use his greater size and strength to pin you effortlessly.
Gritting your teeth, you waited for the precise moment his next overextended swing left the barest opening in his defenses. Then, with every ounce of your cursed power thrumming through your limbs, you twisted and launched yourself into a furious set of combos.
Gojo's eyes widened fractionally as you unleashed everything you had, pushing him back in a dizzying flail of fists, elbows, and knees. You could sense his surprise at the sheer force behind each blow, the speed and fluidity of your combinations leaving him unable to predict the source of your next attack.
For one blazing, triumphant second, you caught a glimpse of victory as you arced into a spinning heel kick aimed squarely at his temple. But then Gojo was there, materializing inside your defenses with that masterful grasp of space and time that made him nigh untouchable. One second you were on the offensive, the next you were crashing into the unforgiving floorboards with a breathless "oof," limbs twisted and cursed tools clattering uselessly away.
"Well now," Gojo purred, looming over your winded form with a satisfied grin. "Looks like I win again, baby girl." His hand was warm and calloused where it encircled your wrist, grip light but unbreakable.
Groaning, you flopped back against the mats in a dramatic display, skin still tingling from your exertions. "That's so not fair," you whined petulantly. "I totally had you on the ropes that time!"
Gojo barked out a laugh, nudging your side with the toe of one shoe. "In your dreams, maybe," he teased. "A good effort though. Maybe next time you'll actually pose a challenge."
Pushing up onto your elbows, you leveled your best glare at the infuriatingly smug man. "You are SO going to regret those words, sensei. Just wait until you see what ridiculous costume I put you in next year!"
His grin widened in a way that made your stomach flip with anticipation. "I'm counting on it, beautiful."
The following week was spent in a whirlwind of preparation as the Kamo Estate staff readied for the biggest event of their social calendar - the annual All Hallows' Eve Masquerade Gala. Gojo, curse him, remained completely unhelpful about his chosen costume, waving off your repeated inquiries with that maddening enigmatic smile of his.
"You'll just have to wait and see," was all he would say, the gleam in his eyes promising delicious torment. "It's going to be a surprise."
And surprise you he did, on the night of the Gala when he finally unveiled your "costume" with a dramatic flourish of cursed energy. Lying innocently on your bed was an all-too-familiar set of clothes - Gojo's signature uniform of a plain white undershirt and billowing black slacks and jacket.
You sputtered incoherently, gesturing between him and the outfit laid out before you. "You cannot be serious!"
But that bastard just grinned back at you, all sharp canines and twinkling mischief. "Oh, I'm dead serious. You wanted an embarrassing costume, pretty girl? Well here it is, in all its glory."
Frantically, you cycled through a dozen different protests and pleading arguments, each of which he deftly waved aside with infuriatingly logical counterpoints. By the time he was done dismantling your defenses, you had no choice but to grumble your capitulation and snatch up the clothes, stomping towards the bathroom to change with as much dignity as you could muster.
"You're going to regret this," you threw over your shoulder with as much venom as you could muster. "Just you wait!"
Once the door clicked shut behind you, however, your feisty attitude melted away into pure girlish giddiness. Sure, wearing your mentor's clothes in public could be considered a bit humiliating. But you'd be lying if you denied how the thought of being surrounded by Gojo's scent, of wearing the same outfit that clung to his broad frame didn't spark a fluttering warmth low in your belly.
Quickly stripping down, you took a moment to appraise the garments with an appreciative eye, fingers trailing over the soft cotton of the undershirt. Even just holding it up to your body, the excess fabric was dwarfing your slender frame adorably. Giddiness mounting, you slipped it on carefully, rolling the cuffs up your forearms.
The fitted white fabric pulled taut across your chest, the sloping vee of the collar frequently slipping off one shoulder to tease at the soft swell of cleavage it created. A possessive thrill shot down your spine as you adjusted it back into place. This shirt, the one that skimmed and hinted at the sculpted planes of Gojo's body, now lovingly outlined the feminine curves it had never been intended to cup so intimately.
Restless heat blossomed under your skin at the thought of him seeing you wearing it later tonight - tousled, practically spilling out in all the right places. Would his gaze linger as unsubtly as yours always did on him? Or would his effortless cool manage to rein in any excessive reaction?
Anticipation began curling tight in your core as you recalled the thousands of lingering, liquid-hot glances you'd exchanged with Gojo over your years of training. The way his stare could scorch across your bare skin, turning mundane movements into something charged and provocative as he drank in your form with ravenous intensity. What you wouldn't give to see that look of blatant male appreciation washing over his handsome features as you showed up in this sinfully snug getup.
Shaking yourself free of the dizzying fantasy, you took a steadying breath before eyeing the slacks with disappointment. As you suspected, they were entirely too loose around your hips and thighs to be flattering. With a frustrated huff, you shimmied out of them, leaving them in a puddle on the floor.
Your gaze landed on a pair of worn but buttery-soft leather boots tucked in the back of your closet. A wicked grin curved your lips as you tugged them on, lacing the tall shafts all the way up to mid-thigh. The supple leather embraced your legs like a second skin, accentuating the toned lines and feminine swell of your calves in a deliciously provocative way.
You barely recognized yourself in Gojo's oversized undershirt paired with those thigh-high boots. Instead of the properly buttoned-up appearance his uniform conveyed on him, you oozed a wanton, edible sort of allure - all tousled hair, stretched cotton, and miles of creamy leg on display. Your mouth went dry imagining how Gojo might react to such a tantalizing twist on his borrowed look.
'Two can play at this game, sensei,' you thought wickedly, eyeing the smolderingly seductive lines and hints of bare skin your borrowed outfit provided.
After securing the jacket, you realized simply styling your own hair wouldn't quite achieve the full Gojo effect you were going for. A sly smile curved your lips as you procured a long, straight white wig from the depths of your costume trunk.
Carefully situating the silky strands, you fluffed and arranged them until they tumbled nearly to your waist in a perfect mimicry of Gojo's signature silver mane. Coupled with the oversized uniform draped over your frame, the full look was startlingly effective.
The only thing missing now was the pièce de résistance. A wicked grin curved your lips as you rooted around in his cupboard to procure a familiar black-framed pair of glasses. Pulling them on, you struck an exaggerated pose, imitating that cocky smirk and calculating squint he so loved to level at you during training.
"Hollow technique: Purple," you growled in a lower register, jabbing an imperious finger into the mirror. "Tch, not even worth the effort."
Giggles bubbled up uncontrollably at your shoddy impersonation. But one glance back at your reflection snuffed the laughter from your throat instantly. Never could you have predicted just how...devastating the whole ensemble would look together.
Raking a heated gaze down your figure, you took in the panels of taut, stretched fabric clinging deliciously to every curve. The alcohol collar and unbuttoned plackets teased at tantalizing swells of cleavage while the cuffed hems allowed teasing flashes of toned legs to peek through. Paired with the untamed silver and signature spectacles, the entire look was pure, potent temptation - a wicked combination of dishevelment and restraint, of masculine and feminine.
You spun and posed, watching in the mirror as the loosened shirttails flared out around your hips, providing glimpses of the black lacy panties painted onto your backside. A rosy flush crept up your throat at the blatant allure, suddenly unsure if you possessed the sheer audacity to debut this ensemble publicly.
A sharp rap at the bathroom door startled you from your reverie. "You about ready in there?" Gojo's husky voice filtered through the wood, sending a shiver of pure sin down your spine. "Or do I need to come in and help get you properly dressed, pretty girl?"
You swallowed hard, breath catching at the dark promise laced through his tone. Was it your imagination, or did he somehow already know the delectable effect his clothes would have draped over your frame? The thought had your blood pounding anew in a heady rush of nervous excitement.
"I'll be right out," you called back, somewhat proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady despite the tremor in your limbs. One last heated glance at the mirror and your reflection was all but searing itself into the backs of your eyelids. If Gojo thought he could torment you further by forcing this depraved twist of a costume upon you, then he had sorely underestimated your own deviant brand of mischief.
Straightening your spine, you threw open the bathroom door and sauntered out wearing every ounce of sordid confidence you could muster. Gojo stood leaned against the wall, arms crossed negligently over that sculpted chest you knew so well from countless clandestine ogling sessions. But the second his visible eye landed on you, his entire body seized up in an unmistakable full-body jolt.
With no small degree of heady satisfaction, you watched distinct shock and something infinitely darker flare across those striking features you admired so profoundly. His stare raked over your figure in a molten sweep, nostrils flaring as he scented the air with unrestrained hunger. And lower, beneath the loose vee of his unbuttoned slacks, you caught the unmistakable twitching of rapidly interested anatomy.
Well well, it seemed turnabout was fair play in the battle of temptation. You offered a simpering smirk, propping one hand on a cocked hip in a move you'd seen him execute a hundred times - legs shifting just enough to highlight the pleasant distraction at his groin.
"Like what you see...sensei?" The endearment dripped from your tongue like poisoned honey as you tracked his body's visceral reaction. "I modeled it pretty closely after the real thing, don't you think?"
A tremor rocked through his deceptively relaxed stance as the full implications sank in, gaze darkening perceptibly when you toyed with the fabric riding up your thighs. Slowly, he drank you in from tousled crown all the way down to where his shirttails brushed teasingly over the bottom of your ass before slashing back up in another unhurried glide of naked appreciation.
The heavy weight of his undisguised desire washed over you in dizzying waves, stoking the tendrils of challenge and want already suffusing your bloodstream. You felt powerful in a way you rarely allowed yourself to embrace - beautiful and profoundly sensual under the searing brand of Gojo's attention.
"You look..." he started roughly, pupils blown wide before Adam's apple bobbed in a harsh swallow. "Sinful," he finally rasped, the single syllable loaded with enough molten promise to scorch. "Absolutely fucking sinful, pretty girl."
A punched-out gasp slipped free at the blatant admission, need guttering low and hot in your pussy. Bold, you took one pointed step closer, until the fabric of his borrowed jacket brushed softly against his abdomen. The tips of your breasts skated lightly across the clean lines of his chest as you leaned in, mouth brushing his ear in a ghosting caress.
"So do something about it, sensei," you growled, nails raking lightly down the front of his shirt. "Show me how sinful you want to be."
For one tremulous heartbeat, you thought he might actually give in to the simmering tension and haul you bodily against him right then and there. His jaw flexed tellingly, fingers flexing at his sides as muscles coiled for action. But then he blew out a long, shuddering breath, spine straightening as the burning intensity blinked out behind his lids.
"Don't tempt me, baby," he rasped in a low purr, tone thick with sinful promise that had your knees quaking. One large, calloused palm cupped your jaw reverently, angling your face up towards his in a searing look of abject want. "I'm only a man, and you look good enough to eat in that little getup."
He allowed his thumb to drag slowly over the plush swell of your lower lip, gaze riveted while you instinctively parted on a shuddery inhale. Your senses swam with the woodsy undercurrent of his cologne, the scorching heat of skin and muscle thrumming just beyond reach.
"But sadly, we have somewhere to be tonight," Gojo continued, voice pitched quieter yet somehow infinitely more powerful in your close proximity. His eyes raked over you again, taking in the way his shirt barely contained your curves and how you'd opted to forgo the slacks.
Instead, a pair of wicked black leather boots laced all the way up to the middle of your thighs framed your bare legs deliciously. He groaned low in his throat at the sight of so much skin on display, gaze heating further when he noticed the full, straight silver wig cascading nearly to your waist in a perfect mimicry of his hairstyle.
"And if I started getting a taste of you now...well, I wouldn't be able to stop. Not until I'd thoroughly ruined you for the rest of the night's events."
Your mouth went bone dry as graphic imaginings of his sinful promise ricocheted across your consciousness. Unconsciously, your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, silently imploring his thumb to dip between them, to caress heated skin and let you suckle on the rough pad.
But Gojo simply grinned wolfishly, knowing far too well the images he'd conjured behind your hooded gaze. "Easy there, pretty girl," he crooned, all indulgent heat and dark delight. "Soon enough you can have all the punishment you can handle. First though, we have to attend a party."
In an effort to regain some scrap of composure, you cleared your throat, ignoring the shaky rasp. "I'm not sure I can pull off that hair," you countered weakly, reaching up to attempt taming the silver strands. To your utter dismay, Gojo's hand shot out and clamped around your wrist, effortlessly thwarting your movements.
God, he couldn't get over the delicious recreation of his look - the fitted shirt straining at the buttons, those long, lean legs accentuated by the knee-high leather...it was as if he'd been stripped bare and repackaged as the most tantalizing, irresistible version of himself imaginable.
"Don't," he commanded, voice dropping into that smooth, spine-tingling bass that infallibly left you aching and molten. His free hand wound through the tousled locks, mussing them further into resembling his artfully mussed style. "Leave it just like this. Every time I glance over, I want to be reminded of how utterly delicious you look in my clothes. So very pretty for me."
A delirious sound punched out of your core at his gravelly praise, knees going watery at the second heady rush of promised debauchery glimmering in those devilish blue eyes. God, how you burned to give in and let him utterly wreck you right then and there. But the iron bands of his behemoth self-control held firm.
"Now then," he practically growled, punctuating the words with a scorching press of bodies, "I believe we have a party to attend? Hmm, pretty girl?"
You managed a shaky nod, delirious with wanting. How much longer could you keep dancing around this undeniable inferno?
At the Gala, every eye was instantly trained on you from the moment you arrived on Gojo's arm. You could feel the weight of hungry stares caressing your body as you moved through the crowd, taking in your blatant mimicry of Gojo's look from the glossy wig to the clinging shirt. More than one leering partygoer let their gaze linger just a bit too long on the exposed expanses of thigh and cleavage.
For his part, Gojo seemed to bask in the absolute chaos you were causing. One broad palm never left the small of your back, possessively guiding you through the throngs of people while sending a clear message to any who dared approach - this pretty little thing belonged to him.
And oh, how you reveled in his proprietary attitude. Something low and wicked in your core thrilled to be so openly claimed, desired with such naked ferocity in front of all these esteemed strangers. Gojo's intense stare scarcely left you for more than a few seconds, tracking your every move with a heated focus that bordered on predatory.
More than once, you slanted a sultry glance in his direction, lower lip caught between your teeth as you preened shamelessly under his ravenous regard. His visible eye would instantly darken to cobalt, jaw ticking with barely restrained hunger before he forcibly dragged his attention back to whatever politician or clan head was fawning for his attention.
"Down, boy," you purred at one point, leaning in so your pouty murmur brushed hot against the shell of his ear. "Don't make me put you in timeout, sensei."
The low, guttural rumble that punched out of Gojo's chest sent delicious frissons of heat licking through your veins. You giggled privately at how his fingers flexed against your hip, thumb rubbing distracting little circles into the jut of bone.
"Oh I'll show you time out," he growled back through a smile placid enough to fool the nobles milling nearby. "Just wait until I get you alone later, pretty girl. I'm going to teach you all about punishment."
A full-body shudder rocked through you at the dark promise, nipples pebbling painfully beneath the thin cotton. Every nerve was alight with giddy anticipation at what delicious retribution Gojo might have in store for your cheekiness.
Your little game of teasing cat and mouse continued in that vein for most of the evening. He would pin you with those unholy bedroom eyes, gaze dropping conspicuously to the shadows hinting at your body's secrets beneath the too-small uniform. In retaliation, you'd arch into him with a sugary innocent expression, reveling in the way his pupils would blow wide and his breath would stutter over a barely perceptible growl. The heated charge between you grew thicker and headier with every tortuous brush of skin and wicked murmur exchanged.
Eventually, it all became too much for even Gojo's formidable restraint. You were draped over one of the antique sofas, legs crossed in a way that allowed the rumpled white shirt to slip rakishly up your thighs, when he suddenly materialized before you like a force of nature.
His large hand encircled your bare ankle in a scalding grip as piercing blue eyes bored into yours from behind the familiar black frames. You shivered at the mute intensity of his stare, that intoxicating aura of power and sin rolling off him in waves as he slowly, inexorably dragged you upright and flush against his chest.
"That's it, pretty girl," he rasped into the heated hollow beneath your ear. The words were velvet soft yet laced with enough dominant possession to have you melting against his solid frame. "I've been more than patient with you all night. But enough is enough - you've tested every last ounce of control I have."
You shuddered violently as his mouth grazed your jaw in a hot, openmouthed glide. "Sensei..." you whimpered, not even sure what you were pleading for anymore.
"Shh, I've got you," he murmured, a scorching palm settling at the small of your back to guide you through the gawking crowd. "Time to go, baby. You and I have a... private lesson to attend."
Somewhere beyond the thudding rush of arousal, you recognized the distinct clearing of throats and murmured whispers from the nearby guests as you allowed Gojo to propel you towards the exits. But it was impossible to care when he was caging you against him with such blatant feral intent, muscles locked into coiling restraint like a panther poised to pounce on its prey.
The cool night air hit your overheated skin like a slap once you stumbled outside. Gojo didn't so much as pause before scooping you up into his arms in a bridal carry, cursed energy already whipping around you in preparation to activate his Infinite Void technique.
"Hold on tight, pretty girl," he warned, the normally gentle rumble of his voice pitched low enough to send molten heat shearing through your core. "This may get...intense."
And with that, the entire world collapsed in on itself until there was nothing but the whisper of energy across your nerve-endings and the solid warmth of Gojo's body wrapped around you as the in-between rushed past in a blur.
You materialized seconds later in your dormitory suite, Gojo already stalking towards the bedroom with you cradled to his chest. He kicked the door shut with a deafening bang before throwing you onto the mattress with enough force to bounce you enticingly.
Chest heaving, you pushed up onto your elbows to drink in the sight of him looming over the foot of the bed - hair tousled into glorious disarray, shirt disheveled and straining against his broad frame, eyes burning with naked sin and untempered hunger. He looked like some kind of depraved avenging angel, utterly devastating in his authority and desire.
"Do you have any idea," he growled, prowling closer like a predator scenting its prey, "what you've put me through tonight with that little act of yours?"
A shocked squeak fled your lips as one large hand fisted in the loose hair of your wig, yanking just harshly enough to expose the vulnerable line of your throat. Gojo took greedy advantage of your arched position, dipping down to lave hot, filthy kisses along the thundering pulse point as you writhed beneath him.
"All evening, I've been surrounded by the scent of you in my clothes," he rasped against your slick skin, free hand already dragging the shirt up to divest you of the flimsy material. You arched eagerly into his frantic touches, nails scoring paths down the quivering muscles of his back as his lips continued branding every inch of bare flesh.
"That sweet, pretty little body of yours wrapped up to look just like me. All decked out in black and white and silver...fuck, you're lucky I didn't bend you over in front of everyone at the party and take what's mine!"
A desperate keen reverberated from your very bones at the graphic suggestion, hips straining upwards instinctively to grind against the rigid cock already pressing into your soaked pussy. Gojo rewarded the involuntary motion with a punishingly deep grind of his own, dragging the luxurious slide of cotton over your swollen clit and leaving you boneless and gasping.
"Is that what you wanted, baby?" he rumbled darkly, nipping your ear with blunt teeth. "To make me lose control and defile you in front of all those poor, unsuspecting fools?"
You could only whine in response, beyond coherent speech at this point. Rough hands shoved the hem of his shirt up to bare your chest, bunching the fabric over your ribcage as Gojo settled onto his knees between your splayed thighs. Cool air ghosted over your feverish skin for only a moment before his mouth enveloped one taut nipple in an all-encompassing scald.
It was like the last floodgate had opened, finally allowing the pent-up tension thrumming between you to surge free in an unstoppable flood. You dissolved into a litany of shameless sounds - moans and whimpers and breathy curses that only seemed to goad Gojo on further. Soon the bedroom filled with the filthy sounds of devoured kisses, skin slapping on skin, and flesh stretching to desperate accommodation around the punishing thrusts into your convulsing body.
Over and over again, he hilted himself inside your drenched cunt with enough force to slide your sweat-slicked bodies up the rumpled sheets. Wave after wave of blinding, throbbing pleasure eroded the last remnants of sense until your entire universe narrowed to the mouthwatering play of chiseled muscle and tendon as he hovered over you. You couldn't get enough of his harsh grunts, the deeper-than-sin rasp of his voice crooning debauched praises and sinful promises against your fevered skin.
"That's it, just like that, baby girl," he ground out as your nails scored down his back hard enough to sting. "Open up nice and pretty for your sensei. Going to absolutely fucking ruin you for anyone else after I'm done."
The very thought sent electric sparks arcing straight to your clenching pussy, throat already rubbed raw from howling your rapture into the quiet night. There was nothing recognizable left in your voice as you chanted his name like a benediction, uncaring of how the whole dormitory might hear your shameless cries while Gojo robbed you of any last shred of composure.
His hips snapped in a final few deep, piston-like drags before stilling with a full-bodied shudder. The feeling of him painting your fluttering pussy in thick, virile streaks of cum finally triggered your own cresting climax. You shattered around him with a ragged wail, arching wildly as exquisite pulses of lightning ricocheted out in tingling waves to your fingertips and curling toes.
Boneless and limp as a ragdoll, you lay there soaked in the glorious aftermath. Gojo blanketed you with his weight, his breath rasping hotly over your sweat-dampened skin, lips tracing sluggish patterns in their comedown. Neither of you moved for long stretches, simply existing in the tranquil silence of that sacred, sated space.
Finally, Gojo pulled back just enough to free his arms and gather you carefully into his embrace. You hummed out a contented sound, burrowing shamelessly into the solid comfort of his chest while clever fingers worked the constricting knots out of your wig until the heavy silver strands cascaded freely onto the pillows.
"You," he started, pausing to clear his throat and collect his scattered thoughts, "are going to be the absolute death of me one day, pretty girl."
The words were fond instead of chastising as he pressed lingering closed-mouth kisses into your hairline. You smiled against the corded expanse of his throat.
"Promise?" you murmured cheekily, arching up to ghost your lips across the strong column of muscle. A low groan rumbled against your mouth at the blatant provocation.
"Mark my words," Gojo growled, rolling you both until he loomed over your pliant, wrecked body once more. This time though, his touch was barely-there, gentle, almost worshipful as he traced the scattered constellation of marks blooming across your damp skin. "By the time I'm through with you, you won't be able to so much as look at another set of clothes without thinking of me, of how thoroughly I'm going to take you apart and put you back together again."
The heated storm in your blood kick-started anew at his dangerous tone, goosebumps prickling in the wake of his maddening caress. There was no doubt in your racing heart that this deliciously sinful man would make good on every last lurid implication behind those words. And you couldn't wait.
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#satoru smut
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could you please please pleaseeee do a fic where instead of the gojo winning, hes way too needy and the reader wins while fight fucking in missionary like your previous fic….my ego took a hit with that one 🙏🏽
❤︎ ໋𓈒 making gojo eat his words and he becomes a whiney embarrassed mess + first part
warnings. fem! reader, missionary, cowgirl, whiney gojo, overstim, praise, dirty talk, mdni.
“still…won’t shut up, huh. figures,” he grumbles, sliding a hand down your tummy to drag out a whine from you. he was reaching you deep—your legs dangled and jerked from each thrust he’s presenting you. you put a hand in his face as an attempt to shut him up but he grabs it with quick reflexes, chuckling before playful long nibbling on your finger. “don’t try to shut me up. that’s rude.”
you let off a moan, his thickness forever buried into you and it nearly took your breath away. you glare before grumbling a, “you shut up. don’t tell me what to do.”
“i just did,” he whispers, his hips thwack and thwack against you to where your ears ring, lips parting slightly and he leans up close to your ear before slowly sucking on your finger. “i can do this alllll day, princess. you’re just gonna tire yourself o—”
he halts, his breath getting abruptly caught in his throat before you feel gojo twitch, and he lets off a whine before you feel him start to pour a few ropes of cum inside of you. you feel warm, and he completely forgets what he’s about to say.
“you were saying?” you raise your brows, and he’s taken aback once you make your way on top of him, and gojo’s back thrashes against the pillow.
“got some nerve…pinning me down,” he pants, staring at you. you observe his body, droplets of sweat racing down his v-line. gojo’s swollen cock remained deep inside you as you sat upright, playfully creating a few grind movements with your hips. “f-fuck, just ‘cause ‘m sensitive doesn’t mean you won.”
you lean up close to gojo, kissing near the corner of his glossed lips before grinning — slowly and teasingly spreading his arms apart.
he moans from the simplicity of your touch before you whisper, “yes it does. you just don’t wanna admit,” and then you realign yourself, staring down at a panting, out of breath, ruffled hair gojo before simpering. “i know how to make you admit it though.”
“hmpf. how.” he grumbles, contorting his eyebrows before hesitatingly, he brings a hand towards your waist. the smallest pout spreads against his lips before he gawks into your eyes, and oh how flustered he was.
“remember what you told me last time?” you giggle, sneaking a kiss near his chin. “don’t worry about it.”
gojo groans from your soft lips making contact against his skin each time. you drove him crazy, however…
the very moment you started to move your hips against him, riding him he completely loses it. more and more breaths get caught in his throat, and he gives your left hip a tight squeeze and his head throws back. “r-riding me after i cum, fuckin’ brat. you’re so—”
you roll your eyes, leaning in to silence your boyfriend with a kiss. gojo’s muffled moans slither its way into your mouth, and he’s stuck in a ecstasy filled trance the sheer second your pussy grips down against him so firmly.
he was still heavily sensitive, such deep rushes getting to him. you ran your tongue against his in a smooth fashion before you feel gojo whine, sucking against your tongue and he doesn’t even realize it. he trails a hand from your waist to your ass, greeting it with a mean smack to make you moan into his mouth.
still some sorts of brat in him, he found his own eyes starting to roll back into the very depths. he’s chasing his breath as if it was some sort of race, some sort of competition.
he couldn’t get enough of your syrupy sweet taste, gliding his tongue against your upper lip, then your tongue — even the corner of your mouth. whenever gojo was like this, straight after cumming his brains out, by all means was he a messy kisser. momentarily, you pull away and slow your hips down.
“why are you—why are you stopping?” he stammers, and he genuinely sounds needy. no attitude in sight. your cunt was stuffed with a few ropes of his cum, and you felt the mess it created.
his dick twitched inside you from each time you moved against him. “you want me to finish? just admit it, baby.”
“…god, i hate you,” he whines, his bottom lip quavering. the sting, the sugared sting of overstim made him swallow his pride for a brief moment before he huffs out a breath. gojo gives you a glare before lowly sighing. “…finish fucking me.”
“sorry?”
“finish… fucking me.” he mumbles, darting his eyes away.
“can’t understand you when you mumble,” you jokingly tease, bringing a hand down to touch yourself…just a little more teasing. gojo’s eyebrows press in together and seeing him pout out of frustration was the cutest thing. seeing him not get his way.
ironically enough, it’s his turn. after all the teasing he’s put you through.
gojo moans, starting to impatiently bounce his thigh and you intake a sharp breath from feeling him pump his way inside of you just enough for you to feel. “fuck me, f-fuck me. just hurry up. finish riding me,” and then his cerulean blue eyes reach contact towards you — following with a cunning grin. “if you can handle m—”
“you’re such a brat,” you roll your eyes, instantly making him eat his words once you start to roll your hips against him. gojo’s eyes glaze over before he bites his lip to suppress his pathetic whimpers. “but a good boy.”
“……”
he grows dead quiet, soundless before he lets off a moan once you inch closer towards his neck. peppering a soft kiss near the inner part. “can you…can you say that again?”
“say what?” you hum in a soft voice, gingerly wriggling your hips against him, you study his expressions and his jaw tightens. “brat?”
“f-fuck, no, baby the other thing.” he pants, and you giggle — slowing catching on. oh. you always forgot how gojo loved whenever you praised him. it made him feel a feeling he doesn’t even know how to explain.
you softly reply, “good boy. that’s what you wanna hear?”
“y-yeah, yeah,” he swallows, and you continued to grip and clamp down his hefty cock. the weight of his base slams back and forth against you to where he purposely grows silent just to hear the filthy noises your cunt makes. “you—you win, i don’t care anymore jus— keep, keep fucking me, please.”
#★vegasbaby.#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#female reader#anime smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo x y/n
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Distraction | Xavier T.
warnings ✩° : mutual pining, angry(?) confession, teasing, competition, cursing, rivals to lovers, both reader and xavier are 17-18 years old, fluff but also a tad spice.
pairing ✩° : xavier thorpe x fem!reader
premise ✩° : on the day of the annual poe cup, you're put against your academic rival, xavier thorpe, and you don't want to lose. however, he has other plans of getting the upper hand with you and knows exactly how to get his way. hes knocking out two birds with one stone, if you will.
word count ✩° : 3.4k
authors note ✩° : this was done in literally a few hours bc i’m obsessed and it needs to be addressed.
The rules were simple.
They always have been. Follow what the people in charge told you and don't disappoint. If you disappoint them then you disappoint the whole community and what good are you if you're a disappointment. It was hard not to see school, ground zero for being the best, as a competition. In fact, you thrived working towards a goal of being superior than everyone else; maybe it was due to the fact that no matter what was put in front of you, you could understand it and write it off as done as soon as you wrote your name. However, there were some things you didn't get at times and that frustrated you.
Over the time you’ve known him, it’s been test after test, assignment after assignment, obscure experiment after obscure experiment to prove to this seemingly effortlessly perfect creature that you’re better than him, only for you to miss his mark by one. point.
“Maybe you should think less about being better than me and more about the material, Y/n.” Xavier would say, “But don’t worry, you ALMOST got the same score as me.”
It wasn't his snarky comments or obviously stronger memory than you that made you over the top angry, no, it was the fact that you couldn't understand how he was doing it. Nothing made sense and the feeling of not knowing made looking into his stupid hazel eyes, gazing at his sharp and defined side profile, and wispy long hair all the more annoying. Everything has to have answers. So why did he make your throat tighten every time you spoke to him? Or your face flush with dark shades of pink and red? It had to be anger. There was no other explanation.
All of the rivalry would eventually lead you both up to the annual Poe Cup. A boat race amongst four teams, five members from each house all stuck together on their respective hand crafted boats each representing a different Edgar Allen Poe poem.
You're on The Black Cat team while Xavier’s on The Amontillado team. For a whole week you spend with your team, preparing for the race and to utterly destroy Xavier because this will finally prove to yourself that you’re good at him at something.
“You ready to beat the shit out of Xavier, Y/n?” Your friend who knows your rivalry with the guy smiles at you, “Once WE have that cup he has to realize that all he is to you, is dirt.” She was right.
“Relax, F/n, why ruin my chances with excitement when I can take all of that and shove it in his face at the very end.”
Your other team mate taps you both on your shoulders, “You guys ready? It’s almost time.” With that, you watch everyone file into their boats, Xavier included, and so you and your friend make your way into your own seats. However, just before you adjust your headband on your head, you decide to catch a glimpse of the destined losers on each side of you. Though no one else is important right now other than seeing him, so you give a side eyed glance in Xavier’s direction.
To your surprise, not only is he already looking at you, but, “Is he laughing at me?”
Your friend looks towards Xavier as well and scoffs, “Yeah,” She confirms, “Looks like they all are. Fucking clowns.”
As you chew on the inside of your cheek out of anger, a sudden whistle blows from Ms. Weems accompanied by a large megaphone that amplifies her voice as she speaks.
You can tell out of the corner of your eye that ever since your friend had rudely thrusted her middle finger into the sky for all the jesters to see, Xavier hadn't stopped looking at you. His eyes, laser focused, burned into the side of your head and it only made you more anxious for the race. You bite your lip ever so slightly and fight back the urge to look at him too.
Thankfully, you're saved by a gunshot that explodes into the air and suddenly your team gets pushed into the water.
Of all things, why should you be thinking about Xavier Thorpe and what he has to say or look at you for? All this time, you've convinced yourself that you could care less what he thinks of you. After all, the reason you're trying so hard to be better than him is the very reason that motivates you every day to get up and face him. Otherwise, you'd be locked away in your dorm with nothing to do but attend class and repeat the cycle. In a way, he was your reason to wake up.
“Y/N! Duck!” Your friend suddenly snaps you out of your mechanical like motions of rowing as hard as possible. Wasting no time, you dodge the flying axe coming your way by a hair. “What the hell?! Y/n, focus!”
“I am focused, F/n.”
“No, you're not. You got that lost look in your eyes. Stop thinking about Xavier and maybe pay attention to all the objects being thrown around at us? So you don't die, and most importantly, so we can win this for our hall?”
For the rest of the distance from the starting line to the other end of the lake, you try not to look behind you as looking behind you would only distract you from the prize. All of your team puts in their all in rowing as fast as they can together in sync, each arm pushing at the exact same second as everyone else to really glide through the water. Despite nets being tossed, siren students diving under boats and tipping them over, and very small fire crackers being thrown into other boats, three teams are left remaining to the next stage of the race. Getting the flag.
“Go go go!” F/n pushes you up, “Get the black flag. We’ll be waiting here to look out for anybody.”
Not wanting to waste anymore time, you nod and start sprinting directly into the old, creaky forest. Dry leaves crunch under your feet in threes, making their crinkles the only noise in the entire forest. That’s good, you think, that means no one else came yet. Quickly jumping over logs and rocks, you make your way to the flag destination, only to see that your black flag is missing.
“What the—”
“Hey,” a voice calls out from behind you, “Looking for something?”
The cheesy line doesn't go without an eye roll as you turn around, “Xavier.”
“You don't seem too happy to see me.” Your rival stands with a shit eating grin on his face, comically extenuated with crimson, drippy paint.
You're quick to reply, “I'm not. You took my flag which I need to win this. So hand it over, Thorpe.”
He raises his hands and allows you to charge up to him just close enough so that you're barely touching the tips of his pointed shoes with your jet black boots. “What? Who says I have your flag? I JUST got here in case you hadn't noticed.”
“I actually haven't noticed. Because why would I stop to care about where you are?”
“You seemed to care when we first started.” Xavier leans down and twists his head slightly, just enough for you to be caught off guard and step back, “I saw you looking at me.” His tone makes you shrink back.
Heat rushes to your face in a fleeting panic and almost immediately, your chest twists your rib cage hard enough to squeak out, “I WASN'T LOOKING AT YOU! YOU were looking at ME!”
Xavier raises his brows and chuckles, “I remember differently.”
Of course he has to be cocky now. “Look, Xavier. Just forget this and let me go. Your gross sweat is getting all over me.”
“Oh is that so?”
“YESNOWLETGO.”
He snickers at your flustered nature but decides to go the extra mile and tease you further, “You do realize that we all have to get back, Y/n, its kinda the whole reason why we made it here. Though it looks like its just the two of us.” He turns to both of his sides and then directs his attention back to you, “I’d say we have a little time.”
Again, you emphasize, “WE don't have time. Unlike you, I actually WANT to win. Xavier, I don't know what your deal is or why you're so obsessed with me and making me look like a complete and utter fool, but once I win this for my team, it ends. Do you understand me?”
Xavier exhales deeply, “You know, for someone who’s so high strung and smart, you're really dumb, aren't you?”
“What?”
He steps forward, causing you to back into a tree. You can feel the roughness of the tree bark as it etches its way across the backside of your suit, causing a mildly discomforting feeling that shivers throughout your skin. Before you can move forward, Xavier steps closer, basically eliminating any means of escaping.
“Why am I so obsessed with you? Is that what you think this is? Obsession?”
You look up at him to find his naturally tall stature hunched over to be at eye level with you. Surely, if anyone to walk into the scene, they’d think you two were stopping the competition just to make out. Even though Xavier’s hand is firmly pressed just between your ear and shoulder and he was just over an inch close to you so that your noses are barley touching, it’s not like that at all. Yet, at least.
“That’s what I just asked.” Your eyebrows stitch together bitterly, “Can you not hear, clown? You don’t understand how hard it is for me to watch my reputation die because of you and your perfect grades and your perfect art. What makes you think you can just parade yourself around to be better than me?!” The questions leave a burning sensation in your throat.
“Reputation? Grades? Is that what this is about?”
“YES! Are you DENSE?!”
Instead of matching your violent glower, you watch as the clown leans his head to the side in laughter. His lips parting just enough so you can see his sharp teeth laugh at you too, “Y/n, did you just call me dense? What is that? An insult? At least I’m not the one who always scores lower than me.”
Embarrassment? Anger? Nervousness? Why was his laugh the thing to make you feel weak now? Maybe the first two are theories, but the third is a definite fact. Your eyes are quickly drawn in by his hazel pupils, curious and dilated as they stare back at you. For a moment, the silence between you two isnt filled with hate or rivalry, but peace. That is until he lets out a breathy laugh after getting a good look at your calm face for once.
“Y/n, cat got your tongue? Or do you just not have anything else to say to me other than ‘I hate you’ and ‘stop being better than me’?” He points a finger to your feline head accessory.
"Shut up.” You bark, “Dumb isn’t really a good insult either. You are so full of shit—"
Xavier moves closer, now toe to toe with you and just a breath away from your face.
“God, Y/n, cant you see that I like you? All this time I thought it was so obvious. I mean, how are you going to tell people you're the smartest person in the room when you cant even pick up on subtle hints that basically spell it out for you?” He says, “Or are you too busy to notice anyone other than yourself?”
His words cause your heart to pound once, twice, and before you know it you can’t hear anything but the thumping in your chest and the soft winds surrounding you both. Xavier parts his lips again, determined to give you the answers you've been so desperately searching for.
“Do you know how fucking exhausting it is to pretend I hate you back, just to have the opportunity to talk to you?” His tone is exasperated and shallow, but he doesn't break eye contact with you, “You seriously thought all those times we got close was because I wanted to be ‘better’ than you in some subject?” Almost like he doesn't believe you, Xavier shakes his head in disapproval, “The only time Ive wanted to prove to you I'm worth something is now.”
His confession only fills your head with more questions, “That doesn't even make any sense! How can you say you didn't actually want to be better than me when that's all you did?” You feel the heat saturate into a dark pink that settles into your cheeks, “And why are you telling me all this now? Why are you so adamant on telling me that you—”
Xavier doesn't even acknowledge your questions, he just continues to hold a burning tension between you and him, focusing only on one thing.
Fuck.
Maybe its the fact hes so close, or that he told you hes liked you all this time, but right now it feels like nothings stopping you from telling him too. It just feels so right.
Before you know it, your mouth opens on its own, your bottom lip trembling for just a second. Xavier’s eyes trail down to your lips, then back into your eyes, and a small smirk pulls the corner of his ivory painted skin up.
Without another second to lose, Xavier tilts even closer than he thought he’d ever be to you and cups your cheek, finding the courage you both need to pull you into an unexpected kiss.
The pastiness of your rival’s white face paint rubs against your dewy skin as the taste of him spreads across your pallet, rough, warm, and agonizingly slow. With a gentle hand, you bunch the back of Xavier’s thin yet airy suit and fall into him, curving just enough so he can extend his hold on you.
Xavier knew that he wanted to touch you. It’s basically been his dream ever since he got close to you and seemingly hurdled himself into being your rival. But he’d never admit that. Or maybe, now he would. Gently, Xavier clasps onto your hips more carefully, securely rubbing his fingers against the skin tight latex uniform you were forced to wear which gives him enough grip to hook his desperate palms onto your body.
You break away for a second, just long enough to look at his face and how mesmerized he is by you and just how fucked you are in this downward spiral of messy feelings and requited love. Love you are much too afraid to commit to. But, Xavier pulls you back into his lips and makes you forget all of your worries, even the one you're supposed to be most worried about.
The kiss practically captures you for what seems like an eternity, erasing all memory of the Poe Cup and time spent hating Xavier's guts only to now realize that that hate may have been fueled by a painfully simple crush. But you wouldn't admit that either. Though, now there’s no other explanation to the methods behind your madness.
Soon enough, your hands find their rightful place in his long, messy hair, scooting his jester cap off easily. Had you known his hair was this soft before? You always told yourself you didn't care but now it was too hypnotizing not to twirl your fingers in. In fact, it’s practically asking you to grab it and play with it, screaming at you to touch it, touch him.
Xavier’s hips press into yours, giving you the go ahead to adjust your position so that your thigh is comfortably resting atop his hip. The stance feels too natural to be normal, and you're both caught off guard by it. Yet, you continue to taste him and feel him up close without another thought.
Nipping at your bottom lip, you can feel Xavier let out a sigh of relief, as if kissing you has been something on his mind for years. Only half of that could be true. Still, his victory cheer makes you do your own version with a quieter huff.
You give the roots of his hair a tight squeeze before your shoulders relax and another sigh escapes from your now open mouth. The force of his lips smashing against yours pushes you back successfully, leaving each part of your body to surrender to his. For once, you let it and as much as you hate to admit it, whatever he was doing was working.
When he finally pulls away, your breath is harsh and so is his. No matter how hard you could try, looking away from his hazy eyes was not an option. Just like the fog around you both, his gaze is inescapable and suffocating. You knew kissing your rival was a bad idea, but neither one of you want to move your hands from their proper places on each other.
Just then, a distant voice calls out to Xavier that snaps you out of your absentmindedness. “Shit,” Xavier curses softly against your lips, “Thanks for that Y/n,” he pulls away, much to your hidden displeasure, “But...I have a cup to win.”
Suddenly, it all comes hurdling back.
“FUCK! THE RACE!” You tear yourself away from Xavier, breaking the warmth between you both, and scramble to find your flag, “YOU CONNIVING SON OF A BITCH. YOU DISTRACTED ME!”
“I hope you don't mind but I actually sort of hid it.” He grins slyly at you, straightening his suit with a swift rub on his chest, “No rules, remember?” He pulls out a flag from behind him and snickers. Has he had that this entire time?
A flash of surging anger fumes inside of your chest, but Xavier just smiles. In his mind, it’s almost laughable how you fell for his devious yet successful confession slash plan. It was too good to pass up. And judging by the sour pout on your face, it worked!
“Y/n,” He chirps, “Was I a good distraction?” He can’t help but ask.
You avoid his gaze and turn your head to other possible directions your flag can be in, “You're the worst, Xavier.”
He runs a hand through his brown hair and smooths it down, “Right, right. You hate me. But I got you pretty good, didn’t I?” He picks up his jester cap and lazily smashes it onto the top of his head, “I'm gonna go, but, you should totally meet me in my dorm tonight? At 8?”
He makes his hasty exit before you can reply, leaving you breathless and weak in the knees—mostly tight fisted and furious, but still, weak in the knees.
“So, Y/n. Do you want to explain why you...left for so long..?” Your teammate asks, kind of scared to ask in the first place but confusion was eating her alive. How fitting.
Instead of answering, you reply with strong and swift robotic motions that quickly thunk your boat along the shore line, taking a good chunk out of the grass and soil. Unfortunately, half way through your synchronized rowing, some water kicked up into the boat and soaked your costume. You didn't care though. All you wanted was Xavier.
And his head on a stick.
Sounds of congratulatory cheers erupt from the crowd as Xavier and the rest of his jester-like teammates hold up the Poe Cup trophy together.
“Bitch.” Is all you can say when all your other teammates wash up next to you, sad, defeated, and soaked with murky lake water.
“Well get them next time, Y/n. Don’t be so hard on yourself!” Your friend smiles happily.
Yeah. Tonight.
#wednesday#wednesday addams#wednesday fanfic#wednesday series#wednesday fic#wednesday xavier#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier thorpe x y/n#xavier thorpe fanfic#wednesday netflix#kaicubus
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“I’m telling you, Dude,” Justin Howells vented to his workout bud as the both of them ran on the treadmills for cardio day, “his staring is getting to the point where I’m thinking about talking to the owner.”
Justin was annoyed about how when he’d walked into the locker room because he’d forgotten his reusable water bottle, he’d spotted Dave near his stuff. It wasn’t that Dave was a bad guy or anything. The 40ish year old man had been a competitive bodybuilder back in his prime, but after years of no longer competing, he’d grown a sizable muscle gut that gave him more of a bearish appearance— and he’d made it clear that he found the fitness influencer very attractive.
Justin carried on, not only pissed that he’d been under the impression that he’d caught Dave trying to mess with his stuff (he didn’t have any proof unfortunately), but that the ex-bodybuilder was across the gym at the barbells, not even trying to hide the fact that he was blatantly staring at Justin as he ran.
His friend, Mike, just grunted, too focused on his run than anything.
Justin went on though, mainly so that he could clear his head of all the rage he was feeling. “And the fuckin’ weirdo tries to play it off all cool,” he huffed, feeling his meaty pecs bouncing as he continued to run shirtless. “I tried to confront him, but he shoved my water bottle at me, as if he’d known that I’d go back for it.”
“…yeah, isn’t that something…” Mike panted.
Justin rolled his eyes as he grabbed his water bottle, unscrewing the top as he ran so that he could keep his heart rate up. “No lying, man, next time that roidhead messes with me…” he trailed off and took a sip from his water bottle, the cool liquid sending an odd tingling sensation throughout the stud. He ignored it and swallowed, his mouth feeling like he’d just licked a D battery.
He noticed Dave’s smile growing larger.
“Next time, what?” Mike teased.
Justin cleared his throat and grunted. “I’m gonna…” he coughed and felt his mouth twitch and his tongue seemingly move on its own, “…suck his cock.”
He paled at the words that left his mouth, having had absolutely zero intention of saying anything even remotely close to that. He’d wanted to say that he’d kick his ass.
Mike flinched and cocked his eyebrow. “Huh?” he asked, slowing down the smallest bit.
Justin Howells shook his head and cleared his throat again, even rubbing at it with a muscled hand. “Um,” he stammered, “I said that I was gonna… suck his big cock so hard until he shoots his fat load down my throat!”
The stud nearly fell off the treadmill in shock and horror. Not only had his mouth seemingly forced those strange words out by itself, but he even shouted it out loud, garnering the attention of a couple of other gym goers who gave him weirded out looks.
“Keep it down!” Mike hissed. “You can’t be joking like that so loudly. People are gonna think you and Dave are some kinda thing.”
Justin struggled to regain his footing, his heart racing in his bare chest. He locked eyes with Dave, who was red in the face as he tried to stifle a laugh. However, the second their eyes met, Justin winced internally as he felt a stirring in his cock.
Dave gave the mortified stud a knowing wink as he performed bicep curls, his massive, hairy muscles bulging with power. He then stood up and began to waddle back towards the locker room, his broad back swaying to and fro.
At the sight of such masculine power, Justin’s cock started to plump up. “Wh-what the fuck… is wrong with my slutty body?” he hissed to himself. He frantically looked around the gym, wanting to wail out as he noticed that the stirring in his loins calmed down whenever he looked at anyone else in the gym, but the second his eyes landed on the older bodybuilder, his cock twitched excitedly and he felt himself flex his asscheeks.
“Justin, you okay?” Mike asked as he looked at the other man’s pale face.
Justin turned to his friend, desperately wanting to tell him that something was horribly wrong— that he couldn’t control his words and that he was getting hard just by looking at Dave. Unfortunately, when Justin opened up his mouth, his mortified ears heard himself say, “I’ll be even better as soon as that muscle daddy fucks my tight hole.”
He didn’t wait for a confused response from Mike. Instead, Justin hopped off the treadmill and stomped his way over towards Dave, his hard cock tenting out the front of his shorts. He knew that something was wrong and based on the knowing look that’d been on Dave’s gruff, handsome, chiseled, stubble-covered face, Dave knew what it was. He rushed into the locker room and stopped right in front of the older bodybuilder and tried to lean over him in a threatening way, but his his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of the older man’s hairy pecs barely covered by his tank top ruined it.
Dave just smirked back at the red-faced man. “Can I help you, Bud?” he asked in his baritone-filled voice.
At the sound of the deep, manly bass emanating from the bodybuilder’s plump form, Justin felt his cock twitch and start to leak pre-cum. “Your sexy ass better tell me what you did to me,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down and wincing when he’d outwardly referred to the man as ‘sexy’.
Dave tried to look innocent, but the chuckle that escaped his full lips gave him away. “What do you mean?” he asked. “And you really find me sexy?”
Justin wanted so desperately to lash out at the older man, to demand that he fix whatever the hell was happening to him. His body, however, had other plans.
“You better shove that thick cock up my ass right now!” he barked, his eyes widening at the gay words that left his lips. Straining, he tried again, even clenching his jaw as he struggled to control his own words. “Wh-what… what the fuck d-did… did you do… me… Do me, Daddy!” He stomped his foot in frustration.
“Yeah, maybe later,” Dave winked, making the other man shudder. “First, I’m gonna let you suffer for a bit— I’ve always heard every time you’d talked shit about me in the gym. Well now, I think you’ll find it hard to say anything negative about me at all from now on.”
Justin paled at what Dave had admitted. He had no idea how, but somehow the muscle gut-having bodybuilder had cursed him, forcing him to constantly vocalize his need for the man’s cock, making him sound like some perpetually horny slut. He imagined himself at work or even the grocery store, unable to say anything besides how badly he wanted a man’s huge, veiny cock in his mouth or ass. Worse was that he couldn’t take his eyes off of Dave’s hairy muscles, his own cock painfully hard now.
“You gotta fix this, Daddy!” he begged, even bringing his hands in front of himself. “Please, fuck me in the mouth and let me swallow your cum.” He coughed and tried again. “Let me be your little muscleslut! N-no, fuck my tight hole… lemme suck those muscletits…” He trailed off, starting to feel hopeless.
Dave stood up and started to head out of the locker room. “I’ll fuck you after my workout,” he promised. “In the meantime, why don’t you go out on the floor and finish what you were doing.”
Justin’s heart raced, but he found his legs moving on their own accord as he strutted back out onto the gym floor.
Mike found him and hurried over. “You alright?” he asked, concerned for his friend. “You rushed off so quickly, I thought you’d gotten sick.”
Justin could feel it bubbling up in his throat. He pleaded with himself to stay quiet, but his mouth started to move all without his say so.
“I’m great, Stud,” he chirped. “I just had to admire Dave’s huge, sexy muscles. They’re so big and manly, especially his massive cock. After my workout I’m gonna let him wreck my tight hole, and then I’m gonna suck him off and ask him to tug on my nips…” The words just kept pouring out of the humiliated stud, and Dave couldn’t help but smirk as he overheard.
#muscle#Justin Howells#loss of control#uncontrollable#uncontrollable speech#ditzy#ditzy tf#slutification
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could i request some leclerc!reader and so comfort with charles please
It's okay
Arthur Leclerc Charles Leclerc Lorenzo Leclerc Pascale Leclerc & Leclerc!reader
Summary - In order to find her way in life, Y/n Leclerc runs away in the dead of night only leaving a note
Warning - neglection, running away
-
Growing up with three older brothers and two of such competing in karting competions, life was hard for Y/n Leclerc. Pascale and Hervé invested lots of their money and energy into Arthur and Charles.
When she was seven, Y/n's interest in ballet started. The young girl had her heart set on being a professional ballerina. So thats what she did. Y/n convince Pascale to enrol her in ballet class.
From then on, she became more and more talented. Quickly becoming the top of class. Yet when recitals came round and she was the lead, the only person who came to watch was Lorenzo.
The rest of the family were out at karting competitions cheering on Charles and Arthur. Yes they would apolgise to Y/n for their absence but to her it never really felt quite right.
-
Y/n was 14 years old, life got harder. Karting turned to formula 2 and E. Lorenzo now building his own life, he moved out of the house.
And the worst of all, Hervé Leclerc passed away. This meant attention was limited, Pascale was busy. She had her salon to run, she was running around supporting the two boys racing and she was mourning the lose of her partner.
As much as he wanted to support Y/n during her recitals, Lorenzos life became busier and he could no longer come along each recital. She felt as though no one her family could see her or her talent.
So what did she do? Y/n collected enough money to enrol herself into a ballet academy. In the dead of night she packed just enough and left without a sound. Of course she couldn't leave without leaving a note, she loved her family.
Dear Maman, Charlie and Arthur,
I love you all dearly, please don't worry about me. I will be gone for a while, Lo Lo knows where I will be but please do not pester him.
Thank you for everything and more
Love from your dearest daughter, Y/n xx
-
Y/n Leclerc was a sensation, one of the best of her age. She was a household name, even if you weren't that well educated on ballet you knew who this elegant women was.
However, it was rare for the ballerina to speak publicily, Espercially as many would ask of her surname and family relations. And it wasn't hard to understand why.
"So Y/n please tell me, any relation to formula one driver Charles Leclerc?"
"No comment, thank you"
Charles, Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo watched on, following her social media through burner accounts not wanting to make this harder for Y/n.
They could see how she spent most of her time dancing, spending time to herself or getting cocktails with friends she made along the way.
~
yourusername
Week in my life...
Spending time alone, you must prioritize self care
Fruit cocktails with friends, the key to my heart
Looking after the minis, they're the cutest little things
Lounging on my sofa after a long day of rehearsals, it is tiring!
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username Gorg gorg girlie
cl_2648749 <3
username I so wanna be her friend omfggg
~
But she wasn't stupid, Y/n knew who those burner accounts were. Every single post, the burner accounts were there front and center. She felt their eyes on her, it was silly really but she constantly felt like they were watching her.
However, Y/n felt warm with that in mind. Like they were finally noticing her for the first time. No longer was she fighting for the attension with her two older brothers. But was it just online? If she were to go back, would it go back to how it was before.
Plus she had built up a life on ballet. Y/n made a family with her friends. Everyone knew her, fuck she is a household name hiding her Leclerc identity from the world, even herself.
-
"I think it's a good idea! It's been long overdue in my opinion"
"No. We need to work to her choices, not make her uncomfortable."
"Okay when?!" Charles throws his arms in the air with frustration. He was pacing in front of the television; Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo all sat on the sofa watching him.
The topic of Y/n came up in passing by Arthur and it became much more. Charles was fighting, he was desperate to get his dear little sister back home. However Lorenzo, knowing how Y/n felt about everything, was fighting back and trying to prioritize her feelings.
The constant pacing stopped abruptly, and Charles turned to look at Lorenzo with a harsh glare. "Why do you want to so desperately work to her choices? Are you in contact with her?" You could hear a penny drop.
Eyes snapped over to the oldest boy, all confused and harsh. Lorenzo sunk into himself. "I um..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Yeah um so I kept contact with her yes"
"Is she okay?" The first question Pascale asked. Years of guilt plagued her mind, she neglected her own daughter and she was now paying the price for that.
Lorenzo nodded. "Yes, she's okay...Y/n she um built up a family through her friends and as you know she is doing well for herself..." A small proud smile morphed onto his face, he was proud of her for doing this for herself.
"Does she hate us for what we did?"
He breathed in and out. "No, she doesn't hate any of us...she understands completely..." That did ease some guilt for the other three, it would of killed them to know that she hated them, her own family.
There was silence for a couple of minutes whilst they all fell into their own thoughts. And then Pascale spoke up again. "Can you at least text her or call her whatever...talk to her, please tell her that we love her and that we want to see her again...we're so so proud and sorry"
Arthur and Charles both nodded in agreement. "I'll see what I can do..." Lorenzo promised.
-
It seemed that the next time they would see Y/n would come round much soon than expected. It wasn't planned, totally sporadic.
Charles was in the kitchen, in Lorenzos apartment. He was scrolling through his phone when there was a ring coming from Lorenzos phone. "Lorenzo! Your phone, it's ring!" Looking over the driver read the name.
Y/n
He knew it was wrong to answer the call, but it felt right like this would do something so he did. Charles picked up the phone and answer.
Before he could speak the voice he missed so dear filled his ear, yet it was panicked and he could hear uneven breathing.
"Lo I'm sorry please, I came back to Monte C but uh um the paps they um oh my god I can't breathe they keep following me! Please please I don't- I don't know where to go!" He missed her voice, granted it for much more mature and wiser now, he still missed it.
Though he was entranced by the situation, now very concerned. "It's okay, it's okay" His mind was on speed mode, much like it was in the car. "Send me the location, I'll come and collect you"
Y/n's voice came out calmer and confused now. "Cha...is that you?"
Charles nodded his head before realising she couldn't see him. "Yeah um it is Cha, I'm on my way" He rushed down to his ferrari.
-
Pulling up to her location, his heart clenched. Y/n had grown so much since he had last seen her, she had grown into herself and looked alot like Pascale now.
Charles climbed out of his car, walking over to her and collided her into a bone crushing hug. "Oh chérie, je suis vraiment désolé..." Oh darling, I'm so sorry
Tears soaked his shoulder, the whole chaos of the day and reuniting with her older brother weighing down on Y/n had finally toppled off completely.
She couldn't speak, just hung onto him. That long time spent away from her family catching up to her. "It's okay...it's okay..." Charles whispered in her ear.
-
#formula one#formula one x reader#formula one fanfiction#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfiction#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#charles leclerc#arthur leclerc#x sister reader#charles leclerc x sister#arthur leclerc x sister#pascale leclerc#leclerc#ferrari#scuderia ferrari#request
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Hi! Could you do a driver!reader who is dating Max and is in ferrari and the whole Carlos thing is happening to her so in Australia she ignores team orders and goes to win the race. Charles is mad at her and in the post race interview when asked about it she is just like "Happy multi 21 day everyone" and like Max is so fucking proud his gf is in her reputation era 💅💅💅
on the edge ⋆ max verstappen
pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader
word count: 1.7K
warnings: charles leclerc being himself (a bitch)
a/n: this is my first request it makes me very very happy!! thanks anon for your request, i hope you like this. i love max with all my heart and i love writing about him aswell.
just wanted to tell you guys that for the requests you can ask for reader and oc, even though when it's not a request it'll probably be an oc bc i love to give names to my characters <3
masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd
Y/N didn't have a seat for the upcoming Formula 1 season, and that stressed her out quite a bit. She and Charles had been teammates for three years, and she really thought Ferrari would keep her on the team, but upon learning that Lewis Hamilton was leaving Mercedes, they were the first to snatch him up and turn their backs on her.
Now she had two options: give up, pray to sign with Williams or Haas, or outperform herself this season and force her way into one of the top five teams. And for now, she had chosen the second option. P3 in the first race and in the top five in the second. She was extremely motivated for Australia.
Y/N loved the view of the fireworks from the podium, the champagne, and, above all, celebrating with Max Verstappen. Because let's not lie, it was obvious that Max would be on most of the podiums.
They kept their relationship out of the media. Being coworkers, neither of them wanted their relationship to hinder their success in Formula 1, but that didn't mean they didn't support each other every time the other achieved something.
Max had been with her throughout her Formula 1 career. They were the same age, but when Max debuted in the competition, she was still in Formula 2, battling against Albon and Russell for the title. A year before his debut, Y/N got a spot at Alpha Tauri as a reserve driver. It was in that year that Max and she started a relationship, at first quite casual and sporadic until they realized they were too obsessed with each other not to formalize it. And four years later, they were still together, sharing an attic in Monaco and competing together for the championship.
"It's going to be great for both of us, I'm sure," Y/N nodded. Before each race, they had a kind of ritual where they wished each other good luck, hugged, and kissed.
"I see a Y/Nstappen 1-2," Max assured before giving her a long kiss, resting his arms on his girlfriend's waist.
"I hope so,"
"Oh, come on. You're starting fourth, it'll be bad if you don't get on the podium," Max said. He knew her situation in Formula 1 was tense and did everything he could to make her feel good and positive. Max loved racing with her, and if she ended up off the grid next season, he would probably suffer from seasonal depression.
They kissed once more and were about to hug when someone knocked on Max's door to get them to the drivers' parade. They couldn't complete their little ritual, but neither of them gave it too much importance.
They went out to the parade where she was asked about her future in Formula 1, as they had been doing since the season started. That also annoyed her, would it always be like this from now on? Would everything be oriented towards whether she was unemployed or not? She answered with the best smile she could and ended the interview as quickly as possible.
She returned to Max, who was leaning on the fence of the truck they were being taken in for the parade. She leaned on the railing, holding it with her hands. Then Max discreetly placed his hand on hers, making her smile at the contact. Max wasn't very fond of physical contact, but if he could manage to brush against her shoulder, he would, maintaining professionalism wasn't as easy as it seemed.
"How's it going, mates?" Surprisingly, Leclerc approached them to start a conversation, first fist bumping with Max and then with Y/N, pressing his lips a little.
Their relationship as teammates was quite complicated at the moment. She was killing it in the few races that had passed, while Charles was just doing okay. Plus, although when Y/N joined the team, Charles and she had gotten along very well, that year they had been growing apart for obvious reasons.
They talked for a while about the race and expectations, especially Max and Charles, while Y/N disconnected from the situation a bit. Sometimes she was surprised that Charles and Max got along so well.
"Good luck today, Y/N," Charles said before leaving with Gasly.
Y/N blinked and looked at Max, puzzled. "What did he mean by that?"
"What do you mean?" Max frowned a little.
"He wished me luck, as if he thought I needed it," she insisted, biting her cheek.
"Everyone needs some luck, Y/N," Max said, knowing how nervous she could get when something didn't fit in her head.
"He didn't say anything to you," Y/N argued, crossing her arms.
"I mean…" Max tilted his head a little, eliciting a little smile from Y/N. "Don't dwell on it too much, you'll do great."
She loved that, how Max was able to lift her spirits in any situation, getting a little smile out of her. She loved him for that.
The parade ended, and they each went to their garage, fist bumping as a farewell because anything else would cause a stir in the media. In the Ferrari garage, her engineer commented on the strategies that focused on supporting and defending Charles even if he started two positions below her.
She gave Charles a short glance before going to the cars and taking their respective positions. It’s light and away we go. Y/N was so focused on passing Lando Norris that she didn't realize her boyfriend was no longer in first place, actually, he wasn't there anymore. She asked the engineers what had happened; Max had had some problems with the brakes and had retired from the race.
"Don't fuck with me," she said, not fully believing it. "Is Max okay?"
"We don't know, focus on the race," her engineer emphasized.
"When you know, tell me, please," Y/N added, without receiving a response. There had been no accident, no red flag, so he was probably fine. But if there was smoke and sparks, there was always a chance that something had happened to him in the pits.
Y/N took a couple of breaths and refocused on the race. She looked on the bright side; she was third and had a chance to win. A few laps later, she managed to overtake Lando Norris. She pitted, and in the last third of the race, she was in first place. Behind her was Charles, so she thought they would change the strategy, and he would be the one defending the position.
"Y/N, let Charles pass," her engineer said, taking her by surprise.
"What?" Y/N practically shouted. "But I'm in first,"
"They're team orders, let him pass,"
"He's slow! He's over half a second behind me, letting him pass will make me slow down!" She couldn't believe this was happening.
"Y/N."
"If he can overtake me, let him, but I'm not letting him pass. I'm winning this fucking race."
And so it was. Y/N crossed the finish line first, and when she got out of the car, Max was there to greet her with a hug. He tried to make her not notice that there were hardly any people from her team there, but Y/N realized it, and her gaze darkened a little. Still, Charles came second, and when he parked his car, several Ferrari mechanics went to congratulate him.
Max watched Y/N, worried that she would take it badly. But then he saw her exchange a triumphant
look with Charles, who, upon seeing her, turned serious. And if that wasn't enough, she blew a kiss to Charles and then went with Max, who put an arm around her shoulders.
"That was incredible," Max said.
"The race or Charles's face?" she questioned, with an ironic smile.
"Both. I thought you'd be sad because there was no one to greet you,"
"You were there,"
"From your team, I mean," Max explained.
"You and I are a team, Maxie. Have you never thought about that?" She looked at him with a smile.
"You're right, we are,"
"Are you okay?" Y/N asked. "I got quite worried when you DNF’d."
"I'm okay, no serious damage,"
"And emotionally?"
"I'm fine. Proud of you, above all," Max nodded. "Now go celebrate your podium, I'll be watching you from below,"
They gave each other a brief kiss on the cheek, not caring too much about the cameras; she had just won the race, she deserved at least a kiss from her boyfriend. She received her prize with a smile and celebrated the podium with Charles and Lando, more with Lando than with Charles. The McLaren driver had congratulated her countless times that day, but Charles barely spoke to her.
"Are you okay, mate?" Y/N asked, knowing what was coming.
"You didn't follow team orders," Charles said directly.
"Oh, right. That," she shrugged, raising her eyebrows. "You came second, Charles. It's not that bad,"
"Damn, but if they tell you to let me pass, you let me pass. What does it matter to you?" he raised his voice a little.
"What does it matter to you? You have your golden seat at Ferrari. Some of us have to work really hard to have a seat, crazy, right?" Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile and turned around, leaving Charles with a word on his lips.
Y/N reached the interview area, where Lando and Oscar were doing their respective interviews.
"Y/N! You won the race by disobeying team orders, does it feel the same as winning a race fair and square?" a man asked.
"Fair and square? I was fast enough to cross the line first, the rest weren't. I think that's how a race is supposed to be won," she argued. She smiled widely; she saw Max was also around, waiting for his turn for interviews.
"Don't you have any remorse?" he questioned.
"Not one,"
She ended the interview after that; she didn't feel like explaining. As she turned around, she found Max with an almost mischievous smile. They fist bumped, and he went to do the interview.
"Max, can we ask you about the win of your girlfriend?"
"About Y/N,"
"Yes, about Y/N," he nodded.
"I'm extremely proud of her, it's her second victory, and even though I had to retire, I'm glad she won this race,"
"Even given the circumstances of the victory?" the reporter questioned.
"With the circumstances of the victory," Max assured with a broad smile.
#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen imagine#australian gp 2024#charles leclerc#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#mv33#mv33 x reader#mv33 imagine#mv33 fic#mv33 x you#max verstappen one shot#noraverse 🫧
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Lance gets red around him a lot.
It’s strange.
It’s different from when they first started. (First met? Keith’s not sure. Lance is so insistent that they’ve known each other since they were twelve, but Keith thinks he’d recognise someone like Lance, someone who smiled that brightly and laughed so loud. But he doesn’t, and he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t, so he doesn’t think about it. He pretends in his head that they met saving Shiro and that’s that.) When they first started learning each other (that’s a better way to put it), Lance went red all the time, but Keith knew exactly what that was about, could read the hard set of his jaw and the anger making his dark eyes steely. Sometimes he would grin to himself and make the flush on Lance’s cheeks deepen on purpose; say something incendiary and challenging in the most casual one of voice he could manage, just to watch how furious he got, how indignance straightened his spine and squared his shoulders and made his cheeks glow.
He called Lance Rudolph, once, and he went ballistic. It was the first time he ever won a spar of theirs, and half of that was because Keith was laughing too hard to breathe. To this day no one believes Lance when he insists it happened. (Keith does feel bad about that, a little. Everyone seems to think it was just Lance who egged Keith on in the beginning, just Lance who purposely made things difficult, but Keith is grown enough now to admit that he had as much fun pissing Lance off as anyone else would. Well, grown enough to admit it in his head.)
Keith still makes Lance go red all the time, now. The issue is that he doesn’t know how he does it.
They still compete. Obviously. It’s fun and it’s easy and Keith is a fan of things that are fun and easy. That’s why he’s into demolitions. And pod racing.
But the competition no longer has that flare of genuine rage. Lance himself had admitted it, sniffing pompously after a late night spar and informing Keith that he had, apparently, “sucked all the fun out of hating by being endearing or whatever”. He also mentioned something about Keith’s “stupid fucking big round pouty eyes and depressing backstory”, but Keith doesn’t know what to make of that so he shoves it back into the recesses of his mind like many other things, including the first time someone other than his Pa said they loved him, Shiro’s safety lectures, and any and all calculus lessons he has ever sat through.
(It’s a mess back there.)
Keith, too, can admit that the animosity is gone. He no longer wakes up and hears Lance’s voice and considers drop kicking him into a black hole. Sometimes he even hears Lance’s voice and realises he’s smiling on reflex. Now he and Lance hang out. Voluntarily, and a lot. They spar. They swim. They harass Hunk. They harass Pidge. They harass Shiro. They harass all their friends, really. Sometimes Lance uses manoeuvres he’s learnt in sparring to pin Keith to the ground and force weird products onto his face and hair, dodging Keith’s attempts to bite him, preaching about their cleansing qualities or whatever. Sometimes Keith even does it without hissing and generally being a nuisance.
Sometimes Keith follows Lance quietly to the observation, late at night, and sits with him while he cries. He can’t decide how he feels about those nights. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to think about them outside of when they happen.
In all of this, though, Lance’s ruddy face has stayed pretty common. Keith can excuse it when they’re sparring, because it’s admittedly a lot of cardio, but at the same time Keith doesn’t get that red and he’s way paler than Lance is. He can almost kind of excuse it when they swim, for the same reasons.
He doesn’t get it any other times, though. He doesn’t know why Lance goes red at the most innocuous things, like when Keith tells him his hair smells good or his laugh is pretty or he’s actually really good at that nerdy math game Pidge likes, holy crow, I didn’t know you were that kind of smart. Nerd. He doesn’t understand why Lance goes red when he trips and Keith catches him, ‘cause he’s a big klutz, you’d think he’d be used to it by now (it’s not like Keith is going to let him fall. Well, usually not). He doesn’t get why Lance goes red when Keith compliments him in training, because usually when Lance gets complimented he gets a big head about it and preens for an hour.
It’s just strange.
Mostly, though, it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe Lance is just a blushy kind of person. He’s taken to teasingly calling Lance Red, because it’s better than Rudolph, and also because Lance goes scarlet every time he says it, so it’s kind of like he’s a wizard who can make Lance flush on command. Which is cool. Other than that Keith mostly just pretends it doesn’t happen. They hang out too much for Keith to bother. If he questioned it every time, he would go bananas.
“You have icing smeared on your face,” Keith comments on one such hanging out occasion. (They’re plundering the kitchen for the cupcakes Hunk made and specifically forbade them from touching. But Hunk allegedly broke into Lance’s room last week and stole the last of his toner, whatever the hell that is, so fair’s fair.)
Lance pops the last of the cupcake into his mouth then turns to face him. “Where?”
“Here,” Keith says, tapping the left side of his own chin.
Lance, like a dumbass, makes a swiping motion on the left side of his face, instead of mirroring where Keith touched. He misses the icing entirely.
“Left side,” Keith says, exasperatedly.
Lance scowls at him. “That is the left side.”
“No — the other left.”
“There is no other left! There’s only one left!”
Rolling his eyes, Keith reaches over to wipe the icing off for him. There cannot be any evidence on them, after all. When Hunk has a conniption over his missing cupcakes they must play the plausible deniability card so they can snicker about it later.
He swipes his thumb under Lance’s bottom lip, trying to scrape the icing off with his thumbnail. Lance inhales sharply.
“Sorry,” Keith murmurs, softening his grip. He must have scratched him. The icing didn’t come off, though, so he switches tactics and slides off the counter, shifting so he’s standing in between Lance’s open legs and cradling Lance’s cheek in his palm to tilt his head. He rubs his thumb much softer on the stubborn streak of whipped sugar, and that works a little better. He keeps rubbing until finally Lance’s skin is clear, all the half-dried icing now spread on the pad of Keith’s thumb. He licks it off without thinking.
It’s sweet.
Lance makes a strained whimpering noise. Keith flicks his gaze up to meet his face again and is less surprised than he should be to see a flush glowing across his cheekbones, making his freckles seem much darker than they are. His pupils are dilated so wide they nearly swallow up the brown of his irises, and Keith can’t tell if he’s looking at him or through him.
He sighs heavily. “Dude, do you have a condition?”
It takes Lance a long moment to answer. By the time he finally does, his gaze has moved firmly to his lap, neck bent so that Keith can’t really see his face. His ears are still read.
“I’ve got a fuckin’ heart condition,” he mutters.
Keith furrows his eyebrows. That’s weird. He’s seen Lance’s medical scans before — he’s in the pods a lot. You’d think that kind of thing would be on there.
“It doesn’t show up on your med scans,” Keith points out. “Is it, like, a genetic thing?”
Slowly, Lance picks his head back up, squinting at him for several long moments. Keith begins to squirm.
“You’re actually slow,” Lance says with an almost awed tone of voice. Which is mean. “Like, genuinely, actually slow. I think there are bubbles in your brain.”
“Hey,” Keith protests, pouting. “I help you commit cupcake heists, and this is how you treat me?”
Instead of answering, Lance continues to stare at him. He almost looks bewildered, which does nothing but make Keith more confused.
Eventually he lets out a long, tired sigh. It is not the first time Keith has heard that sigh. That is a sigh he hears when Shiro finds him throwing up his guts after eating a tub of ice cream out of spite. That’s the kind of sigh he hears from Allura when Keith ignores instructions and boulders through the shocks from the invisible maze to get it done faster. That’s the sigh that says I wish I had a trebuchet to strap you to it and release you into the sun. Keith is very familiar with that sigh, although he usually makes it happen on purpose, or at the very least understands how it’s warranted.
Right now he is completely lost.
“I am going to go bother Coran,” Lance says finally, pushing himself off the counter and walking towards the door. “You are not invited. I will talk to you when I want to strangle you less. Goodbye.”
“Bye,” Keith calls out, head tilted in confusion. He watches Lance go until he disappears down the hallways.
“He is so confusing,” he announces to no one, then walks out the kitchen himself.
#i love like genuinely painfully oblivious keith the autism is strong in this one#vld#voltron#keith#keith kogane#lance#lance mcclain#klance#pre klance#pining lance#oblivious keith#s1#ish#rivals to lovers#rivals to nothing really#keith is a little shit#my writing#longpost#pining keith#but he’s too up his own ass to realise lol#autistic keith#brown eyed lance
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catch me if you can
street racer! ellie williams x fem! reader
summary; heat rises on the streets, blood pumps with adrenaline in the race, and bad memories come up to the surface with a swing of the steering wheel.
cw; tension, swearing, mentions of death and death of a fictional character, anxiety… in the future there would be +18 content!
special thanks to @winfleurs and @atomicami for inspiring me i luv u! 🎀
“dina! wait up!” you screamed, your heels making it not quite easy to run after your best friend.
your ears were buzzing with the roaring of the audience and the car’s engines. it was a fresh saturday night, and the city seemed as bright as a constellation. adrenaline was pumping through your veins, you shouldn’t be out today. in fact, you’d sneaked out of your house. but you couldn’t help it if your friend asked for it so badly. her boyfriend, jesse, was supposed to be racing today. there was a lot of money on the line. probably about 500k. and dina had to be there. you know, the ‘good luck’ kiss and all that.
the cars looks amazing, modified with the newest technology. you could see the NOS tubes peeking though, ready to push though the chambers of the cars and burn the tires in the asphalt.
shit, you were getting excited.
you followed your friend through the crowd, trying to not lose her black wavy hair out of sight.
“jesse!” she screamed, a huge smile on her features as she ran towards the cars and her boyfriend, jumping onto his arms.
“hi beautiful.” he smiled, giving her a kiss as he held her. you made a gagging sound that made them laugh and pull apart.
“nice to see you too, jesse.” you said as you met up with the two of them. jesse chuckled.
“hey trouble maker, what are you doing here?”
“oh, you know… being a good best friend and all that.” you rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your lips.
“of course.” he hummed, squinting his eyes.
“although i really wanted to see you lose too.” you added and he laughed.
“there it is. i could see it coming.” you winked at him.
“i see you’ve got competition.” you looked around to the cars placed for the race. and you whistled. “a 2015 Lykan HyperSport? that’s gonna be hard to beat.” jesse frowned. “but of course yours is not that bad…” you placed your hand on its surface. “Nissan Skyline GT-R R34… 1999 right?” you inquired and he nodded.
dina seemed just as surprised as him.
“yeah… how do you know all this stuff about cars?” you froze. shit.
“uhh…” you shrugged. “my father. he’s a fanatic.” you quickly spurted out, and the two of them nodded, letting it slide. ‘cause they couldn’t think anything else about it, of course. you were no longer in LA, you were safe.
you sighed. almost fucked it up.
“hey, jess!” the three of you turned around at the sound of a low and sultry voice. your eyes met a pair of evergreen ones, silky auburn hair —tied half and half on a messy bun— and freckled cheeks. she was seating on the hood of her car, girls with tiny skirts and exposed cleavages surrounding her. her legs were spread, a black tank top hugging her chest and toned abdomen, leaving her strong arms exposed.
she was hot. really hot.
“yo williams.” jesse smirked. “ready to eat dirt?” she scoffed, showing off a confident smirk.
“you talk too much for someone who hasn’t beaten me once.” people around you hollered.
“and you talk too much to have that shit of a car.” you huff, and she arched her eyebrows. “Subaru WRX. year 2008.” you pointed out, your heels clicking as you got closer. “i’m sorry for your wallet. the engine and drivetrain must have given you a lot of problems.” you saw the way her jaw ticked and you smiled. “uuuh, seems like a touched a tender spot, didn’t i? i mean subarus are impressive. but not even an STI? come on. you hurt me.” you pouted and she chuckled.
“well, look at that. here i thought your pretty face would be the most interesting thing about you. but you’ve got brains.” she said, jumping off of the hood of her car, getting closer to you as she eyed you up and down.
“not like your kitties here.” you nodded at the girls and they all stared dirtily at you, what made you smirk.
“careful doll, they might scratch you all up.” she warned, playfully, so close to you you could smell her perfume. “and we wouldn’t want that beautiful face of yours to go to waste, do we?” you smirked.
“i would like to see them try.” you muttered, leaning until your faces were mere inches away. she pursed her lips and took a look at you, at your exposed legs and cleavage, beautiful hair and glossy red lips. you had gone for a simple tight tube leather dress that pushed up your tits a little bit too well, and a pair of red thin high heels. a red pendant hanging from your necklace.
“see something you like, ‘williams’?” you inquired, sultry, teasingly and she smirked.
“maybe.” she tilted her head slightly backwards. “what about you? you see something you like?”
“i do…” you nodded, droopy eyes on her own green ones and she smiled. “your car.” she let out a sarcastic laughter, shaking her head.
“but weren’t you just saying how much of a shit it was?” she inquired, eyebrows arched in disbelief.
“now it is. it won’t be once i’ve got my hands on it and touch her all up.” you said as you stared at the cherry red car. the people surrounding you let out ‘uuu’s that made you smile. “you know… a short throw shifter, maybe a new intercoolers…”
“and how are you gonna do that, princess?”
“with a race.” the crowd roared and your friends frowned. dina approached you.
“are you crazy?! do you even know how to race?” you looked at her, and took one of her hands.
“dina… i’ll explain later, okay? but now i need you to trust me on this one, alright?” jesse and dina looked at you, into your eyes, and saw your determination. silently, he handed you his keys.
“if you’re gonna race, you’ll need a car.” you looked at him, and he smiled. you returned it, taking the keys. “if you lose i’ll kill you.” he warned though, and you laughed.
“i never lose.” you promised.
“what do i win if you do?” ellie stepped into the conversation, eyebrows raised. “need to hook me in, gorgeous, i’m betting my car after all.”
“i’ll tell you what.” you smirked, turning towards her. “since it’s not gonna happen. i’ll bet you anything you want.”
“anything i want?” she inquired and you nodded. “don’t pull back later on your promise, princess.”
“i won’t.”
-
you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the tingling of your hands. you pressed on the gas, hearing the engine roar, and your heart stammered. shit. it’s been so long.
you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do it ever again. but how could you get away from all of this? from the only thing that made you feel something? that made you weak on your knees and your heart race? it was like a drug. every time you took it you’d find yourself begging for more. you needed it on your system.
you had learned how to race since a very early age, even before you had enough age to get your license —yeah, you got in trouble with the police more than once, but they could never catch you—. and even if you loved it, you’d left it all after your best friend had died while racing, in the hands of a crazy dick who made him crash against a building, making the NOS tanks blow up and burning him alive.
you still could remember your screams, how your friends had grabbed at you so you wouldn’t get closer. ‘let me go! let me fucking go!’
you’d watched the only person that got you and unconditionally loved you die in front of your eyes.
after that you’d used the millions of dollars your family name had to drown your sorrows in alcohol and drugs, getting away from the city that had taken away your everything from you and building a brand new life where nobody could know you.
you’d been hard to get to know, always having everybody at an arm’s length until dina had come along, with her stupid smile and warm personality bringing you back to life. you’d forever be grateful to and for her. but her past was something you’d never talked about, and she didn’t want to force you into it.
“i see you shaking there, princess. scared?” williams screams from her car, who just had positioned itself to your right. you scoffed.
“oh yeah, terrified.” you sarcastically said, and she smirked.
“don’t worry babe, you can always sit on my lap later, i have something that will calm you down.” she winked and you rolled your eyes.
“no thank you, once i’m done i’ll be sitting on your car and driving back to my house.” you winked back, and she chuckled, mouthing something to herself that you couldn’t figure out.
“you guys readyyyyyy?!” a girl in a mini skirt came in between the two cars, a gun in hand. the audience roared, and so did your car. there were phones everywhere, recording the impending race —and your victory—.
you bit down on your lip. you were gonna make win that pretty girl, in heels.
“set!” another girl to your right yelled, and your engine roared again, the tires burning.
“ready!” another to your left, one more roar.
“go!” the girl with the gun shot up to the sky, and before you knew you were flying. the world stopped. there was no future. no past. just the present. just that moment.
ellie took the lead, and she smirked to herself, looking at your car through her mirrors. but she just had to take her eyes away from you for two seconds to lose you. “what the-“
she took the curve, and with a honk, you drifted right beside her, in a swift motion getting in front of her backwards to the road, facing her car. you smiled at her, and send her a kiss with one of your hands before harshly spinning the wheel and drifting once again to face forwards, using the NOS to catapult yourself through the asphalt. you relished on the shock of her face. god you could never get used to it. it never got old.
ellie cursed, following right behind you, adrenaline pumping through her body.
“i’ve finally got you.” she smiled, changing gears and speeding up. another closed curve came into your view and you sped up, in a quick movement changing gears and pulling on the break as you harshly manhandled the steering wheel. you could almost see everything on slow motion, the people outside of the car roaring as you perfectly drifted in an U shape.
you screamed, euphoria in the pit of your stomach. ellie used the inertia to pull up by your side, lowering her window. you did the same. you two were on the final straight line. “you ready to lose princess?” she inquired, and you scoffed.
“catch me if you can, williams!” you screamed, and changed gears before pressing the gas. you press the NOS button, the strength making your back press tightly against your sit. you flew through the straight line, ellie copying you and keeping up with you. you could see the finish line getting closer and closer, and the speedometer getting higher.
you knew you couldn’t over do it, the crowd was waiting for the winner there, you couldn’t hurt them, you wouldn’t.
100mph, 125mph, 150mph, 165mph.
“3…2…1…” and just as you crossed the finish line, mere inches ahead from ellie, you harshly rotated the wheel, drifting as you stepped and pulled on both breaks, the tires burning against the asphalt and leaving marks as you finally stopped the car. the crowd roared and quickly approached you. dina and jesse were hollering.
you stepped out of the car with a smile on your face, your best friend jumping to hug you and jump into your arms, making you laugh.
“what?! i mean- what?!? that was amazing!!! since when could you race?!!?? oh my god!!!” you chuckled, trying to calm her down.
“i’ll tell you everything about it later, alright?” she nodded. jesse tried to say something but he was out of words. “it’s okay big boy, don’t waste your breath.” you tapped her shoulder, and he scoffed. “and now…” you turned around, watching ellie as she stepped out of her car. “i’ll be taking my prize.” you smirked, spreading out your arm and showing her your palm. she tilted her head to the side, a playful smile playing on her lips.
“sure. but first aren’t you going to introduce yourself for me, princess?” she inquired. “or should i do it… viper?” your blood froze, as well as the whole crowd. ellie smirked. “you really thought i wouldn’t recognize those drifts?” you quickly got closer to her, your breaths mingling.
those surrounding you started mumbling. your breath was shaky and your body, still filled with adrenaline, slowly filled with anxiety and bad memories.
“viper the street racer?”
“no way!”
“she disappeared years ago, is it really her?”
“i would shut up if i were you.” you hissed, and she leaned in, the smirk on her lips growing. your lips were almost brushing, and with the hand in which she had her keys, she cupped your chin.
“why don’t you make me?”
you needed to get out of here.
why… why now? why after all this years was your past catching up to you?
you quickly took her —your— keys, watching her smile as you got into your new car and started it. the crowd was unraveling and you knew soon they’d start either jumping at you or taking pictures to expose you.
“see you soon, princess!” she screamed as you drove out of there, groaning at the buzzing of your phone. “i caught you.”
-
a/n; ty’all for 7k! i’m so happy that such a large number of people enjoys my work :(🎀 i love u!! also hope you liked this fic! would you like a part 2? let me know!
#ellie the last of us#ellie#ellie x fem reader#tlou ellie#ellie williams#ellie x you#ellie williams x you#ellie williams tlou#ellie tlou#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams fic#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams angst#ellie williams smut#ellie smut#ellie x reader#ellie x y/n#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x female reader#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou imagine#tlou smut#tlou fluff#tlou x reader#tlou2#tlou part 2
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nsfw alphabet
daniel ricciardo x reader
navigation masterlist
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
smothers you in kisses, runs a bath for both of you and refuses to stop cuddling you !!!
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
his favourite body part on him is his thigh bc of his tattoo. he loves the way you always stare and drool over it and his head spins when you ride it 🤭
i think he's more of an ass man but honestly i think he loves your boobs and ass equally?? he can't really decide because he loves every part of his girl equallly
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
he's soo kinky my mind won't be changed. loves finishing inside you bc he feels like it's a way of making you know you're his and no other man will ever get to experience that with you
but he also loves finishing on your face. he just thinks you look so so beautiful with his cum on your face
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
he's into risky sex and i think he secretly loves the idea of you being caught? like he'll take you back to his drivers room after every race, good or bad, to fuck you and he secretly wants someone to walk in and see how lucky he is to have you as his girlfriend and see how good you treat him
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he knows exactly what he's doing ! hands mouth dick he knows how to use them all and make you see stars everytime
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
he loves abit of doggy because he can take control and he loves it when you ride him because you get tired quickly and it makes him soo cocky knowing you need his help.
but i think his favourite is missionary. it's basic but it always makes him feel close to you, being able to stare right into your eyes and hear every little breath hitch and whimper you make
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
he'll smile at you because let's be honest when does this man not smile but i don't think he's super jokey with you. he likes to keep it serious because he's worshipping you and he needs you to know how much you adore him. he's always cracking jokes after sex though
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
i don't think he's fully shaved just bc he has a beard but i also don't think it's super crazy down there. he keeps it trimmed and neat
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
so so romantic it's ridiculous. he's apart from you for so long and always rushed so he really savours having the time to love on you
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
doesn't really do it when he's with you but he's away for so long so he'll usually call you 🤭
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
i am convinced this man is the kinkiest man ever idc ! loves sex in risky places so that whoever sees you can see just how lucky he is to have you. but he's also super careful because he knows that it could ruin your career and he doesn't want to embarass you either
is also the biggest tease ever, 100% has got you those vibrating panties to wear during a dinner with the other drivers. he wants you to beg and definitely gets turned on if you cry, also into overstimulating you.
and i think he'd secretly be into you taking control? like he's normally the dominant one in your relationship so he loves it when you're in charge but he won't ask you to do that.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
likes fucking you in his drivers room and also likes fucking you in the back of his car but his favourite place will always be your bed because its yours.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
honestly anything but he goes crazy whenever you're at his races cheering him on. knowing you're there just to support him, how proud you are of him and your competitive streak coming out has him feeling lightheaded
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything that makes you even the slightest bit uncomfortable or hurts you
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
he has a pussy eating nose idc. that man could spend hours buried between your legs making you go dizzy. he loves how quickly he can make you fall apart.
but he also loves it when you suck him off. he goes crazy when he sees you struggling to fully take him in the mouth. waking up to you giving him head (with consent ofc) is his favourite
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
depends on his mood. normally he's fast but there's also times, especially when he's tired, feeling low or just missing you where he's super slow and loving
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
will always go down on you before a race 'for good luck' then have a quickie just after a race before taking you back to your hotel and fucking you properly
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
yes and no? idk how to explain it :( he loves the thrill of having sex in a place where he can get caught, but he's also super careful bc he knows being caught can ruin his reputation and ruin yours. he's not into being risky in a place where the general public can catch you, but he'll take risks if the person that might catch you is someone you both know if that makes sense??
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
on days where he's got you all to himself and nothing to do he could literally go all day. his stamina is higher than yours, he has to take breaks because you need them
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
loves using them on you when he's fucking you to tease and overstimulate you. also likes them because he knows you're still able to feel good even if he's away. don't think he's massively into using them on himself but he wouldn't say no either
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he's awful. he knows he has the power so he always drags it out and teases you. he wants you to beg for him
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
he can be either super loud, i'm talking loud moans and grunts or he'll stay quiet to focus on you and the noises you're making
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
he's super into lingerie so when he's away he'll buy you new sets and get you to model them for him when he gets back 🤭
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he gives off big dick energy. little over average in length but he's girthy 🤭
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
also depends. he's either all over you or he's happy to just relax and spend time with you doing something else. i think generally it's quite high though
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he likes to stay up and just talk nonsense with you after sex. loves just holding onto you, gently stroking your back and arms talking about the most random stuff ever
#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smut
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hello! i saw your requests were open and wanted to pop in! i have a bit of a weird? idk request, where it’s like max verstappen x reader first where it ends with angst, and then she ends w carlos endgame?? maybe a whole lotta lover boy feels from carlos and ‘oh i fucked up something great’ feels from max, like essentially carlos that has been silently lining throughout readers relationship w max too?? i’m so sorry if this confused you! i loved ur previous carlos sainz fic!! 🤍🤍
BLOOD FLOWS RED
genre: fluff; light smut
pairing: bestfriend!max x reader; carlos x reader
summary: max constantly fucking up comes in no better time for carlos.
word count: 3.7k (my longest fic so far 💀)
warnings: angst, slight loverboy feels from max if you squint. voyeur max? not really but kinda ig and no beta we die like the ferrari fans we are 🫡 google translate ass spanish, forgive me 😞🫶
author notes: OMG ANON YOU ARE A GENIUS!!! I LOVED THIS REQUEST AND I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING IT. but small change tho, max x reader isn’t rlly like a proper relationship. anyways, hope u guys enjoy 😘😘😘
you were both 10 when you first met. your parents had been friends for a while by then, and they decided that they would place you and max in the same school. the two of you instantly kicked it off. it was like you guys were meant to be friends. you always shared the same opinions, the same preferences and all.
school with max was fun. the best, infact. the both of you hit it off well since the first time you met and had been inseperable (and insufferable) since. it was practically known to everyone that if max were to take a seat, the one beside it instantly belonged to you. you two had different friend circles, yes. But you were definitely each others best friend regardless.
highschool. highschool was a turning point in your friendship. although it was still as magical as it was, max’s attention at that time drifted between girls and racing. the former, burnt your heart with jealousy. everytime he ditched plans with you for his new girlfriend, you secretly prayed to god they would break up so you could have him all to yourself. The latter however, you didnt mind so much. you were always a fan of racing, and it only bought you two closer. you still remember go karting with max like it was yesterday. even if he was always the one to win, you weren’t too far behind, always coming it right after him. your deepest secrets, your highs and lows, your intrests, and everything about you was known to max, and max only. everyone would see you with him all the time, so no guys would ever approach you in school. Its not like you really minded it though, because max’s girlfriends only ever lasted two weeks at the most, and you guys would find your way back to each other.
You found solace in the unwavering friendship you shared with Max . Growing up together, navigating the twists and turns of life side by side, your bond evolved into something deeper over the years. You were always hopelessly in love with Max, but you concealed your feelings, afraid of risking the precious friendship you had cherished oh so much. Everyone but max could see it. I mean how couldnt they? you were always like a lost puppy around the paddock, finding your way to max. Much like your races, you would always find your way right behind him. it was clear in the way you looked at him, with stars in your eyes. How your voice went slightly higher when you were around him. How you relax when you’re with him. How you’re the loudest person during a race, always screaming his name as he raced by. Everyone felt sorry for you, really. Because in return to all of your affections was nothing but a cold and stoic response. Don’t get me wrong, Max definitely loved spending time with you, probably moreso than anyone else, but it was nothing in comparison to your admiration for him.
Afterall, in the world of Formula 1, where speed and competition reigned supreme, there was so space for screw ups. you needed to work hard for what you want and you needed to be cunning. and for max, nothing was as important as winning this year’s championship and more to come, so you’ve become used to his behaviour. he was quick, ruthless and on the top, and he wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of his success. so even though it stung when you could see how little you mattered to him over the sport, you convinced yourself it was okay. Because this was max’s dream since he was little, and whats a wish to date a boy over a pursuit for the championship but a speck of dust.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, you watched Max prepare for yet another exhilarating race. Your heart raced in sync with the roaring engines, anticipation filling the air. Deep down, you yearned for Max to realize the depths of your affection, but maybe it was too much to ask for, you think. He was always too caught up in his relentless pursuit of victory. Everyone saw it, even the rugged and striking driver of ferrari, with the number 55 adorned on his red suit.
Max insisted you leave him alone for a moment, so he could gather his thoughts before the race. “Are you sure, max?” “please, just go” reluctantly, you agreed and went into the paddock club. you settle into the couch and wallow to yourself. you just wanted to be there with him so you could calm his nerves, why was he acting unlike himself? you gather that recently this is all thats been happening. you always go behind him, wanting to be with him at all times, hoping to be the centre of his attention, but he stands like a stonewall. you’ve grown tired of it really. But come on, you knew you would find your way back to him again. You were infact in love with him since you knew what love was, weren’t you?
You get startled when a hand waves in front of your face “helloo?” “oh my god im so sorry” “no worries” he shoots you a cheeky smile. “did you need anything carlos?” “nothing, i just wanted to ask if i could sit by you” “yeah ofcourse, you didnt need to ask” honestly, this was the most you’ve ever spoken with carlos, so you were confused by his sudden intrest in you. but really, it wasn’t sudden at all. too absorbed into the grumpy redbull driver, you never noticed a tall figure clad in red lurk behind you two. He had seen it all. His eyes burned with rage everytime he saw you with max. What did he ever do to deserve you?
“Carlos? mate where the hell were you? you need to come to the garage, hurry up” charles says, appearing out of thin air “i’ll see you later, okay?” “Bye sainz” Looking back at you, carlos runs away behind the monagasque. you smile to yourself at the sudden attention from carlos. Atleast he distracted you, right?
yeah right. your nerves were all over the place the second the red lights blinked, and the race began. max was so off his game today, whats wrong with him? he was so far behind this race that even the alfa romeo cars had been ahead of him. it was his first race lately where he was behind a ferrari for once. you felt your heart thump as you wince, you know how much shit redbull & max’s father give him on the offchance that he isnt the best in the game. he didn’t deserve it, you think. he doesn’t deserve the shit they put him through. since this was the start of the season, everyone was very anticipated to see the result, to see who is going to be this years leading drivers.
you catch your eyes drifting towards one specific car though, and its not the redbull one you’ve always got your eyes on. the person leading the first race of the season happens to be the man that youve last talked to. carlos. you hold your breath, and blink for just a moment and there you see it, carlos gets the pole position. you dont know whether to be happy or not, a feeling you’re unfamiliar with makes your gut twinge. were you happy with the results? as much as you’d like to convince yourself otherwise, it was true. for some reason carlos winning made you feel proud, but in a split second you turn your eyes back to the circuit. max had gotten p7.
it was the night of that day that max had seen you under a different light. your look for the party had caught the eyes of everyone there, and unfortunately for max, even the eyes of a certain latino were set on you. Carlos was the first person you noticed the moment you stepped into the club. the ferrari pair had rented out the entire club for that night, celebrating their p1 & p2 standings. you instinctively go towards Carlos, talking him up about his big win. “Sainz, that overtake on lap 35? Blew my mind.” “you must’ve been attentive on me to catch that” he jokes, his chest rumbling with laughter. “oh come on everyone’s talking about it” “maybe. but so are you, and thats not very common” “I give credit where credit is due, what can i say?” you giggle, taking a flute of champagne. “hey, how come you aren’t with max? i ask only because this is the first time you’ve come outside that circle” he asks, slightly avoiding eye contact with you. “well, i guess you could say i just found someone more worthy of my time” “Oh..?” clearly amused with your answer, carlos decided that he’s not going to let you leave his side. He had a taste of it, and he knew he couldn’t let go just yet.
2 drinks become 4, and 4 drinks become 8 when you decide that you are done being the quiet girl behind max. you think that it’s time that you let go, live the moment for yourself, and yourself only. okay, and maybe Carlos too. conversations with him were just so light and breezy, you didnt have to hold yourself back hoping you’d be molded into the kind of girl he wants. it was obvious that he was interested in you as is. “Carlos” “yes, cariño?” “How come ive never spoken to you before?” “You know, actually you have” he wasn’t wrong, but that was just small talk at events. This? This was different. you knew it. He knew it. “No, no i mean like.. this” you say, speech slurred, hand reaching to brush his hair. “You’re driving me crazy, mi vida” he chokes out, eyes closed and a sigh escaping his lips. “Carlos..” you feel like you cant breath as you say, “Help me forget him” by this point of your conversation you had realised that he did, infact notice things about you. Maybe even in a way no one else did. you raise your eyes to meet his and you lose yourself in their charm. his brown eyes with specks of gold drew you in more than you’d like to admit. “Hermosa, when you have me,” he raises your chin up “You will be sober when you have me, and you wont be forgetting it any time soon”wind gets caught up in your throat at his bold statement.
“Come on, let loose carlos join me!!” by this point it was the alcohol talking, not you. “okay okay how about we get you home now?” “oh shut up im just getting started” “no you’re not, come with me” carlos says as he throws your arm around his shoulder to support you. “fuck, is she okay man? i can take her to her house just leave her with me” max say’s, finally emerging after eyeing you both all night. “don’t hold your breath mate, she’s going home with me”
you wake up the next morning with the worst headache, which only gets worse when you realise you can’t recognise the room you’re in and the clothes you’re wearing aren’t yours. you shoot your head up as you hear the door open. Carlos? wait a second. did you and he..? “Carlos, did we—“ “Did you want us to?” “Oh my god. OH MY GOD??” “Calm down im just messing with you, no we didn’t do anything. i just had to change your clothes because you puked all over them” this was so embarrassing you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.
“im so sorry, i really am. i didnt think i would let go that much yesterday.” “Don’t worry, i had fun. plus its nice seeing you not be so timid” your cheeks flush at his compliment. Fuck. i abandoned max yesterday, you thought, booking a cab to his house as you pack your stuff. “Youre not seriously booking a cab right now, are you?” “Not all of us come from Generational wealth, Carlos” you say, hoping you get connected to a driver as soon as possible. “No, no. you’re coming with me.” he says, taking his car keys and showing you the way to the garage. The moment you arrive at max’s house, you see an unfamiliar pair of heels by his shoes.
you knock on the door “Max?” No answer.“Max??” no answer yet again. you use your keys to open the door. “I didn’t expect you to come at this time” he says, his hand over a girl who you barely recognise’s shoulder. “Who’s this, max?” “It doesn’t matter, she was just about to leave” the woman looks confused but exits, mumbling something to max as she leaves. “Whos that, your conquest of the week?” you ask the second you hear the door click. “Why do you care? you must’ve had fun whoring out with the ferrari boys yesterday anyways.” He didnt mean for it to sound as harsh as it did, but what was done was done. Seriously? “Fuck you max. i’ve always been with you every second of every day and you don’t appreciate me for a moment. you constantly ditch me for these random fucking girls who you know are just with you because you’re in redbull. And i let myself go for one night. One fucking night and you’re on my back calling me a whore? you know what? i am tired. i am done with your bullshit. Maybe ferrari is better after all, huh?”
“You don’t understand my point” “what point max? what fucking point? Are you blind or do you just convince yourself to ignore the fact that ive been in love with you since we started talking? Do you know how much it hurt me to walk in your shadow all these years hoping you would notice that i was there for you? to notice that i was the one for you?” “You love me?” he sounds heartbroken saying it, but you’re on an adrenaline rush and don’t take note of it. you could feel your feelings for him fading more and more as you spoke your feelings out to max. “No. not anymore.” “Fuck. i never- i never thought, fuck.” “guess you just realised it too late mate” a voice speaks up behind you. “Lets go back, i cant stand to see his face.” you spit, with venom lacing your words as they sunk into max’s heart like a dagger.
After the incident with max, You realised that the night with the ferrari driver would be the start of something much, much bigger than you had expected. somewhere in between the races the 33 on your shirts slowly turned into 55. You didnt have to tell max you’ve moved on, it was clear as day. Carlos had gifted you a bracelet, a custom cartier one with the initials c.s adorned by a small pendant of a chili. everyone on the paddock could see that max was history to you. By this point it was also famously known that you had become Carlos’s girl. you didn’t mind the chatter though, you were so happy with carlos, he made you feel things that no one had been able to make you feel. he was gentle, and understanding. But at the same time, he knew exactly how to treat you, and the fact that you liked to be treated a little rough, once in a while, and he played it like a charm.
Your situationship with him was quick to blossom into a relationship, the best one you’ve ever been in. Days with Carlos were magical. he was crazy for you, as were you for him. you were so used to people stepping all over you that carlos treating you the way you deserved to be treated caught you off gaurd at times, but you grew attached to that quality of him. he made sure that he was the best man for you, and that you were treated exactly how you deserved to be. you noticed that you didnt even ask him for anything, he miraculously knew exactly what you wanted, and he delivered seamlessly. You had drifted significantly from max, but you didn’t mind anymore. Carlos was the only one for you and there were no doubts about it.
This particular morning was that of the emilia- romagnia grand prix, with you by the ferrari garage with carlos. everyone there had become used to you at this point, charles and some of the engineers becoming some of your best mates. Right now you were in carlos’s room, sitting on the bed as you watched him get ready. it was a home race for the ferrari boys. “What?” carlos talks over the phone, clearly upset with whatever he’s heard. you sit up straighter at his sudden change in demeanour. “Fuck. guess there’s nothing we can do huh?” he says, moments before he hangs up. “It’s canceled. the race is canceled because of a flood.” “What? Im so sorry to hear that Carlos, i know how much this race means to you.” you say, walking up to him and fixing up his shirt.
“Is there anything i can do to make you feel better?” memories of that night rush back into your head. you take in a sharp breath remember what carlos told you that day. “I’m sober now” “You remember that?” he looks into your eyes, his own shifting into a darker look. “I couldn’t for a moment forget it” you pull his collar in towards yourself “you little minx, me estás matando” “Lets see if you’re a man of your word, sainz” you dare to say. “you’re gonna wish you never challenged me, hermosa.”
His lips crash against yours as he pulls you up to jump onto him, legs wrapped around him as you take him in, in all his glory. your brain becomes foggy, and a thousand diffrent scenarios run around your head and at once, the all stop, Leaving your head a blank space. you run your hands through his hair, breathless. he walks you both over to the bed, his lips never leaving yours as unsaid words get conveyed to you. i want you. he gently places you on the bed, getting onto his knees.
You pull away from him for a moment, just a moment. you needed to get comfortable into the bed, and even the split second away from him makes you grow impatient. you look down to see him frantically trying to pull your shorts off you. Frustrated, you pull him by his neck back to you, kissing him with a rush you’ve never experienced before. you close your eyes, his wandering hands feeling making you feel sensitive all over. even a harmless rub against your thigh ticks you off. the whimper youve been suppressing comes out into the kiss, making Carlos feel as though he was losing his mind. he couldn’t take it anymore. he wanted you, he wanted you so badly he felt like a teenager about to cum in his pants.
All you wanted was to scream his name, loud enough for the entire hotel to hear, and he, wanted to listen to them on repeat like they were the best musical piece ever created. he was drunk on lust. “Can i?” you nod with all your might, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “Use your words, mi amor” “Yes, yes. please i want it so bad carlos, please.” “God, you sound so angelic begging for me right now.” Just as he was about to take off his top, the two of you hear a series of knocks on your door.
“Are you in here? its max” “Why is he here?” just as you were about to cuss him out, carlos signals you that hes got it covered. He picks you up, making you put your legs over his torso again. “Carlos? what are you-“ he shushes you, a finger falling over your swollen lips. just as you reach the room door, he clashes his lip’s against yours again. he slowly takes off the lock on the door, leaving max to think he can come in.
max is greeted by the two of you feverishly making out as he opens the door. you and carlos pay him no mind though, as if you couldn’t even see him. “Fuck you guys” He shouts as he bangs the door on his way out.
#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz 55#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz smut#fluff#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz fanfiction#max verstappen#max verstappen angst#max verstappen smut#max verstappen fluff#formula one#f1 x reader#carlos sainz drabble#carlos sainz junior#carlos sainz f1#carlos sainz one shot#formula 1#f1
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NO PHOTOS — BAJI KEISUKE/KAZUTORA HANEMIYA.
— CONTAINS. fem!reader, 3some, slight choking, praise/degradation, reader is referred to as sweetheart and doll, multiple rounds, tora is an energetic fucker. 18+ mdni.
— WORD COUNT. 4.0k
— NOTES. this is like my 50th repost cause i’m trying to not get flagged but i hope you enjoy the first addition to this miniseries. i really loved writing it all and i hope i don’t have to repost it again :( also listen to the song “no photos” by don toliver!
— LINKS. series masterlist — general masterlist.
They say rivalries could fuck up a friendship.
Not particularly for Baji and Kazutora though.
Rivalry was invigorating to them, something they needed in their day to day lives like water to survive, and even after their childhood years, they still found themselves battling against each other somehow. So, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to Kazutora when he arrived at Bonten’s freshly established headquarters, complete with its own separate hotel and casino, to see that his opponent was Shibuya’s best, Baji Keisuke.
A smirk then followed a laugh when Hanemiya thought over it more. Baji? It’d been years since he last saw his best friend, his only fond memory being attending Keisuke’s graduation; How strange of someone with their veterinary degree to take on racing. To each their own, he presumed.
In turn, however, Kazutora spent most of his time in jail. Trouble seemed to follow him everywhere he went like a lost puppy with its unreliable owner. And at the end of every day, he promised himself he’d get better—He had to. And he did. Prison struck the opportunity for him to pick up new dexterities, other than his last hobby of breaking and entering. With that, he grew increasingly knowledgeable in the field of motorbikes. Once he got out, he landed himself a job at a local bike shop. Comfortable; the pay was great, he did what he loved, and when he was exceptionally lucky, he’d get to compete against others in his area, being an undefeated favorite as well.
Now with him settled into his suite, alongside his roguish roommate, the need for competition grew stronger.
“It’s been a minute, huh, Keisuke?” Kazutora sighs out, laying across the opposite side of his bed. Coming from Tora, it was rich. Rich in the sense that whenever it came down to the two going head to head back in Shibuya, Kazutora conveniently found himself sitting in a cell. “Sure has. I was startin’ to think your bum ass was scared of me.” Baji responds with a snicker, adjusting his head on the headboard of the luxurious hotel bed.
“Never. But hey..” Kazutora starts, sitting up straight and resting his weight against his hands behind him. From the shift in octave of his last vocables, Baji knew to listen intently despite aimlessly scrolling on his phone. Probably looking at bikes again..
“Y’seen that new girl Bonten’s been hoarding? Fucking gorgeous.” Kei’s focus flits immediately to Hanemiya. “New girl?”
If you could only see the look on Tora’s face when he described you, as if he’d seen an angel from Heaven and came back down to Earth just to report it back to Baji. It was entertaining to say the least, how expressive he got when telling Keisuke you were about this tall, and your hair was the sexiest shade of this color, and he can’t fucking forget about your body. Each dip and curve of your frame was engraved into his brain with so much depth that if he’d somehow end up with amnesia, he couldn’t forget—He wouldn’t forget.
“Sounds like a real peach. The hell they need her for?” Baji queries. The truth being, Bonten needed you as a morale booster. Someone to remind them they were human even after a gruesome day’s work, and of course at times they’d get distracted, bend you over the desk in God-knows-who’s office just to make the prettiest mess out of you. It kept their spirits high, and they were fun men so you didn’t mind as much as you should’ve.
Kazutora thought for a second on what his next words would be. Spontaneously, he asks, “Wanna find out?” The question didn’t quite register in Baji’s mind until Tora graciously added that you were the designated flag girl. What a shame it’d be if you didn’t get to know your racers a few hours before they become less than friends and more than foe.
—
Last night’s packing took an immense amount of your energy, leaving you only to manage a quick shower in the morning after less than a full night's rest. You blamed Haru; That forgetful bastard, only he would make the mistake of relaying to you that the flight leaves at 6 A.M instead of P.M, which forced you to scramble for time you thought you had.
When you finally arrived at your suite, you opted for a nap to rejuvenate lost time, and fortunately you had been granted the night shift at what was beginning to feel like your new part-time job. You slept soundly without distractions for the next few hours, and once you awoke, a necessary shower was in your presence.
It wasn’t until you stepped out of the shower that you noticed your phone buzzing on the counter, paired with an unknown caller ID at the top of the screen. Normally, you’d ignore it, wait for the ringing to stop and carry on with whatever plans you had for the day, but since Bonten had a particular way of wiring your phone, to say the least, who knew what business you could be called in for.
“Hello?” You hold the phone between your ear and shoulder as you drape the towel around your dampened body. A soft voice projects through the other line, so gentle as though it were merely a whisper. “Is this Y/N?”
You move on to heading out the bathroom and into the bedroom where you set the phone on speaker and begin to apply your smell-goods. “Mhm, what’re you calling for?” There’s a brief bout of silence from the other side until the familiarity of hearing that docile tone vacated and it was replaced by a deeper, brasher timbre. “Y’not busy, are ya? Gotta race in a minute ‘nd ‘m losin’ motivation, sweetheart.” The sentiment of the pet name had heat surging through your body.
This must’ve been what Rindou was talking about. And to think all that talk about needing to “stick close by his side” because the others were bound to want you, was just a scheme to be possessive. Maybe actually listening to Bonten could teach you a few things.
You weren’t dumb as to not realize who was on the phone. It clicked for you the moment you heard his voice. He was your Boss’s friend, the one you reigned attractive against the others in the photos he’d shown you. Mikey had warned you that he was an unpredictable man, but seeing as Sanzu was someone you dealt with on a daily basis (regardless of if you wanted to or not), Baji was nothing.
Surely, you weren’t too busy with anything, and a quick welcome visit couldn’t hurt. “Not busy at all. Which room are you in, Keisuke?”
Fucking hell. Just how cute can you get? Kei tries his hardest to not let the grin on his features go noticed, or to not let the excitement rush straight to his dick, yet he fails at both. “Na, Kazutora..” You could hear him on the other end calling for Tora’s attention. “What room are we in?”
You couldn’t hear Tora’s response over the phone but luckily Baji was gracious enough to repeat it a second time, not necessarily just for you to hear; but for emphasis. An allure, roughly.
Room 602 — Who knows what’s to come?
Luckily, you were provided with the cutest checkered set, a gift from Ran Haitani himself—complete with a teensy tiny skirt and tight little crop top that left no part of your chest to the imagination. Truly adorable, the way it had fit your body, the uneasy feeling of bareness waning away once you stepped into your platform Miu Miu heels.
After some twirling in the mirror, you felt ready enough to make your way to their suite. You knocked gently against the lacquered door, in contrast to how sturdy, heavy almost, it felt underneath your knuckles. The handle turns and the door is pulled from the inside, revealing the men who occupied the area.
They had to be over 6’0, the both of them. You weren’t expecting to be towered over within the first ten seconds of arriving, it was evident on their features that they found you rather cute. The one you came to recognize as Baji was posted against the wall with his arms crossed, sharp eyes taking you in gradually. Hmm, intimidating.
The other held the door open, a soft close-eyed smile on his face. Ran would make the same expression with you at times too. A dark mole near his right eye gave him a more feminine look in comparison to the raven haired male a foot behind him. He seemed friendly, this must’ve been the carrier of the dulcet voice you heard from before.
“Cute outfit, that what you’re wearing tonight?” Baji queries, relaxing his stance in the slightest. Kazutora pulls the door in more, allowing you ample room to slip past him and to shut the door behind you. It takes a while for you to slowly nod while taking in the view of their room. Bonten really outdid themselves when coming up with floor plans for the hotel because every inch of each square foot seemed to be crafted specifically to fit their divine tastes. Nevertheless, a golden view of the water from the window situated in the living space. “I’ll try not to ruin it then.” Huh? What does he mean by that?
Your focus hastily snaps back to the man before you, a sinister smirk quirking at his lips that reveals two sharp… fangs? He’s far more frightening in person.
A hand on your wrist enthusiastically guides you to their room, it’s Kazutora, sitting you down amongst the bedsheets. Baji follows behind him, sitting across from you two. “Tora, relax. You’ll scare her.” You giggle at Keisuke’s assertiveness, receiving an eyebrow raise from him as soon as the airy chuckles reach his ears. “‘m not scared.” You respond, hands placed over your bare thighs.
“You’re so cute, like a doll. You’d let us get to know you a bit?” Kazutora’s voice resonates from the side of you he sat beside. You turn to look at him only now noticing his golden-hued eyes.
Very pretty.
“Of course.” Your response came out in a reassuring tone, the pair falling harder and harder for you as each second passes. Kazutora’s hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him, the tips of his fingers dancing dangerously close to your inner thighs.
“You gotta boyfriend?” He sing-songs. Baji leans in closer despite only being two feet away, his hands folded and rested over his lap. “Not technically.” You chime out, feeling as though you’ll go dizzy from the tantalizing scent of the man beside you.
“Not technically?” It’s Baji’s voice you hear now. “I mean, ‘m not with Bonten, but sometimes they treat me like a girlfriend.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. Your relationship with Bonten could be described as something similar to a friends with benefits ordeal. Not quite, but not far off.
“Your little boyfriends would probably be disappointed if they found out you were here, huh?” In response to Baji’s question, you shake your head. “They don’t have to know.”
So perfect and so fucking dumb. What did they do to deserve you?
Kazutora’s hand trails up your abdomen, to your sternum, and right under your jaw where he grips your throat with the lightest pressure and angles your head upwards to meet his eyes.
Those same friendly orbs from before diminished into something colder, with the faintest hint of mirth behind them. “Be honest with me, pretty baby. Who do ya think is gonna win today’s race? Me, or Keisuke?”
Hypnosis is what it felt like when you stared into his eyes, attempting to muster up an answer that would satisfy both parties, although you just… didn’t know. Kei’s eyes narrow as they land on Tora’s, the quick glance they give each other filled with devilry.
“I-I don’t know.” You give him your final resolve. Kazutora releases his grip on you and moves his hands back to your thighs, slightly pushing them open to reveal the barely there panties you wore underneath your skirt. “Don’t know?” Hanemiya’s voice is whispered against the shell of your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “How ‘bout we show you? You’d like that?” Hands that were previously between your thighs find themselves tugging down your little shirt, kneading the flesh of your tits softly. You elicit a low whine, nodding your head as Baji situates himself between your thighs, using his sharp teeth to pull the fabric of your panties down until they hang off one ankle.
“Imma make ya feel fucking good.” His eyes lock onto yours as he uses his tongue to switch between flicking and sucking at your clit. Kazutora settles behind you, allowing you to somewhat rest against his back while he continuously plays with your nipples.
Baji’s tongue is dangerous, he’s messy. The feeling of the wet muscle in and out of your core causes a docile whine to reverberate from your throat. He keeps your shaky legs open with his large, calloused hands, his pointed nose inadvertently aiding in the pleasure stemming from your clit and the only way you can really react is by bucking your hips up like a desperate whore. You couldn’t help it, he knows he’s too good.
“Kei-Keisuke!” You stutter out, hand moving to tangle in his dark locks, tugging gently. He returns your whine with a groan, speeding up his ministrations which make your hole twitch around him, legs threatening to close any second. From his perspective, you looked like an angel. Everything about you so sweet, cute, and innocent. Just the thought of knowing how other men have had their way with you, gets him harder than a fucking rock.
It’s incredibly messy at this point. Kazutora’s lips take purchase on yours, kissing you sloppy and rough. His fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples cause you to go crazy, just a thread holding you back from your orgasm. You’re so incredibly wet too, Keisuke can’t even tell if the strings of slick dripping down the bedsheets come from his saliva or the growth of your arousal.
You can't take anymore at this point, opting to run away from the pleasure instead of giving in, but Baji’s hands grip hard around the fat of your thighs, keeping you still as he gives you a sharp glance, one that’s only a warning. Kazutora pulls away to recollect his breath, eyes scanning over the scene on display. There’s a dopey grin on his face that you miss as he watches your clit twitch. “Fuck, her pussy’s so pretty!”
“Gonna cum! L-Lemme cum!” Your voice is slurred, hips uncontrollably rutting into Baji’s mouth. He slows the jerking of his own hips against the mattress, pulling away from your heat and replacing the lost feeling with his fingers on your clit. He circles them against the nub with slight pressure, watching how your jaw drops open and sonorous mewls slip out.
“This whatcha wanted? Y’sound so pretty, even that pussy’s talkin’ ta me.”
You were too caught up in your own pleasure to even notice the raunchy squelches of your creamy cunt resonating throughout the room. How embarrassing.
It only takes a few more moments for your body to convulse under the sensation, your juices dripping down Kei’s arm and back arched against Kazutora’s chest. “Atta-fucking-girl! Look at that!” Tora coos. That signature smirk returns back to Baji’s features, mesmerized with the way your pussy pulses in orgasm. “We’re gonna have so much fun witcha tonight.”
Keisuke sits up, kneeling at one side of the bed, repositioning you so that you’re arched nice and pretty for him while Kazutora kneels at the other end, your face millimeters from his cock. Kei wraps five digits around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him to meet his eyes. You stare up at him with those angelic orbs, doe eyes rendering nothing behind them, just pure vacancy while you pout in the slightest, a reaction from his vice-like grip around your throat. “Y’gonna take it all for us?” A quiet mhm is muttered from your throat, Baji beaming down at you with his menacing smile, satisfied with your answer. “Be careful with Tora,” Keisuke lets his grip go and he leans down over you, whispering into your ear, loud enough for the other to hear. “He’s a throat fucker.”
He sits back up straight, unzipping his pants slowly before taking out his hard-on. If only you could see how much Kei leaked, just how huge it was. You could only guess when he teasingly slipped the tip in and out, entertained with the way you stretched around him. Kazutora, on the other hand, slides his length down your throat fully, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around his shaft, gradually building up a bobbing rhythm.
Kei wanes his teasing enough when he watches how well you envelop the half-blond. He slowly pushes into you at the hilt, sighing out a deep rasp before practically pounding your hole, leaving you no room to adjust to his massive cock.
God, his dick is fucking heavy. It stretches you out wide enough to the point where you feel as though your cunt can’t take anymore, all while your hands grip the sheets underneath you for leverage that only helps in the slightest. Tora’s hand grips at the hollow of your cheek while you continue to take as much of him as you can. He’s really trying his hardest to not let his hips take control and accept the pleasure you’re languidly giving him, yet he fails, letting his hips reel back and cock slip down your awaiting throat. His thrusts are hard in tandem with Baji’s, both the men using you to get off.
Little tears begin to pool at your waterline which Kazutora finds amusement in, fucking your throat at a faster, wilder pace. Vibrations from your throat shoot through the parameters of his length, eliciting a whimper which follows a groan. “So fuckin’ good, baby..”
A harsh slap stings across your ass once Keisuke finds his rhythm, the warmth and wetness of your hole inviting him in like he was just meant to be there. You wince in response, trying your hardest to not run from the pleasure. “Guess your men are good for something, cause fuck, you take it so well.” His hand slips down partially, enough for his thumb to enter your puckered hole, pumping the digit slowly. From this, your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs starting to feel like jello and even you can’t seem to keep yourself arched for him. “Y’got so tight after that, ‘s like you want me to cum in you.”
Your mind goes hazy, the only thing bouncing around in that empty brain of yours being the need to make a mess. Just the feeling alone of being used like a toy has your core tightening, the sign of your next orgasm. Tora’s grasp on your cheeks reach lower, the taut sensation of his hand now around your neck. He groans while watching as his cock struggles to fit down your throat. He could virtually grab his phone and record how he’s having his way with you, possibly use it for future reference when he’s alone and missing the warmth you give him.
“Ah shit, I think the little thing’s gonna cum. Is that right?” Keisuke goads, using both hands to pull your faltering hips back up. A tiny mhmm is sounded from your throat and he takes his fingers to rub your clit in tight circles. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he coaxed your orgasm from you, spit dripping from your lips and around Tora’s shaft as a sheer layer of your essence coats the entirety of Keisuke’s cock.
The sight of it all has Tora’s eyes crossing and balls tightening, being the first to shoot his load into your mouth. He gradually slows his movements to a halt, pulling from your mouth to give you a chance to finally breathe. You’re gasping, practically choking when air settles back into your lungs, your body shaking from the overstimulation of Baji inside your heat.
There’s a hard thrust, then another before Baji releases inside you, creating a beautiful mosaic of the messes you both made. Quite the artist, he was.
Before you know it, you’re being manhandled into yet another position, this time being ass up for Kazutora and face to cock with Baji. Just how much stamina do these guys have?
Kazutora’s first to slip in, a more fucked out moan leaving his lips when he observes the way his cock slips easily into your cunt. You’re so fucking wet, he can’t think straight. Baji lines his length up with your lips, shallowly pushing in. “Just the tip, sweetheart. Wanna see if you know how to control yourself.” You wrap your lips around his plush tip, sucking harshly.
Tora finally starts to move. You’re just too fucking wet he can’t help it when he’s already getting carried away, fucking you senseless. Such a mess on his cock, he’s lost.
It was easier to take in as much as Baji prohibited but with the trajectory of Hanemiya’s thrusts, you’re going past your limit.
“Kazutora, slow the fuck down. You got her chokin’ on my cock more than she usually does” Baji hisses out, vexation fueling his arousal. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you’d probably apologize if you could, let the man before you know that you were totally capable of at least trying to keep control. Much to no avail, Kazutora refuses to ease up, instead letting pleasure overrun his senses.
It was loud. The sounds of skin slapping, mixtures of whining and groaning, anyone from outside the door could probably walk past and hear just how cute you sounded getting fucked out your mind. Maybe that’s what they wanted, the whole establishment to know that you weren’t just Bonten’s little slut, but theirs too.
The next few moments whizz by like nothing, your hole getting stuffed for a second time and your tongue met with the acrid flavor of cum. You’re splayed across the bed, heaving for air with fatigue growing inside you hastily. “So, who d’ya think was better? Me or Kei?” It’s that giddy tone that lets you know it’s Kazutora speaking. Both the men seem unaffected from the previous situations yet you're the one left winded. “Both..You both were really, really good.”
Kazutora makes a buzzer-like sound, as if you’d been mistaken in your resolve. “Wrong! There’s only one winner.” Baji scoffs at Kazutora’s antics, checking the time on his phone. “We should probably head out, seems like races’ll start soon.”
“Do me a favor, baby..” Baji’s words hang off the tip of his tongue purposefully as he makes his way to you, standing you up and adjusting your outfit back in place. “Be good and keep our cum stuffed in this tight little hole, or else your boyfriends’ll be real upset.”
He tilts his head in a mocking manner and you nod along.
A quick wave of goodbye and wishes of “good luck!” leave your lips as you finally leave the BajiTora abode. Tonight’s race should be interesting one.
— In the end, it was Kazutora who reigned victorious, leaving Baji to his first defeat. The victor didn’t matter to them, they just enjoyed it; enjoyed being together whenever they could. For sure, Chifuyu would have to hear about this once they get back home.
After your limited experience of waving around a flag while trying to keep your panties from revealing too much, you grew tired, quite frankly. There had to be other things to do once races completed.
“Wonder what Koko’s doing!”
#tokyo revengers smut#tokyorev smut#tr smut#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyorev x reader#tr x reader#baji smut#baji x reader smut#baji x reader#kazutora smut#kazutora x reader smut#kazutora x reader#baji x you#baji x y/n#kazutora x you#kazutora x y/n#keisuke baji smut#baji keisuke smut#keisuke baji x reader#baji keisuke x reader#kazutora hanemiya smut#hanemiya kazutora smut#kazutora hanemiya x reader#hanemiya kazutora x reader#baji keisuke#keisuke baji#kazutora hanemiya#hanemiya kazutora
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may I req dating + how you guys met hcs with minu, owen & vinny? If its possible could you also do noah and kaneshiro? take your time and thank you
Windbreaker: first meeting + confession + dating headcanon (Part 1)
Pairing: Owen, Vinny, Minu x gn!reader
Fluff
A/N: Hi! I think I got really carried away with this one, especially with the Owen one so I couldn't put everyone in here. I'll be making a part 2 for Kaneshiro, Noah and maybe someone else.
Owen
You happened to meet Owen during a race. It was not a friendly meeting at all though.
During the race, Owen for the first had had difficulty beating someone else but in the end, he had won 1st place. He had heard a lot of things about you like how you had worked twice as hard as others to achieve the results you had right now. How you never rested and always trained even after a race. How your reputation and name had skyrocketed after that 1 year of break you had taken.
There was a lot of commotion when people saw you enter the race that day and most comments were about how they were not expecting much from someone who had taken such a long break.
Yet, you did it, you earned second place just some seconds behind the one and only Owen Knight. It was impressive, and Owen himself was fascinated by that.
So as you were sitting down to rest after having bought water you saw the blonde guy striding towards you with confident steps, the medal of the first place dangling on his neck as his sunglasses gave a vibe of arrogance to it all.
It was annoying to look at, for some reason. Well, as you didn’t have to deal with him that was fine. You lowered your head, closing your eyes for a second as you were totally exhausted.
“Hey, wanna race?” you heard a voice say from up above you. You raised your head just to be met with the confident grin on the blondie's face.
Annoying, you thought. “No, thank you.” You lowered your head again, closing your eyes one more time hoping this time you could actually get some rest.
“What are you scared you might lose?”
Great now I have to deal with this one, you thought looking up once again. “Fuck off.” was your answer making people who were observing the interaction gasp.
He raised an eyebrow taking off his glasses. His smile having already faltered, shifting into a serious one. “Why?” He asked not giving up.
You got up glaring at him. “I don’t want to, prick,” you said, pushing him away and leaving.
After all that interaction everybody had started talking about how bad your personality was and how it was obvious you were scared to race with Owen and bullshit like that. Yet, that didn’t faze you, you were just too tired. You had been training so hard the last few months without even taking a break, not to mention the fact that you had been arguing with your parents as they wanted you to give up on cycling. You would spend days outside coming home only late at night barely eating anything.
It was a miracle how you were still holding on, and even ended up second while racing against some of the best racers in the world. So yeah, you were not in the best of moods or states. Now that you had finally finished all you wanted was to rest but you had to deal with the annoying blonde guy who had won first place. It’s not like you wouldn’t have liked taking him up on the challenge but his attitude and your current state made you react like that.
After that one race Owen didn't approach you anymore and his crew mates would always throw daggers at you when you encountered each other in the competition. On the other hand, Owen was furious, he felt like you had gone too far reacting to him asking such a simple thing to you.
He liked the way you raced and he had always held a lot of respect for you, still, you went on and treated him like that.
After the race, he was standing at the back of an alley waiting for Harry to go and get his phone he had forgotten and left behind.
That’s when he saw you walking not far from him. You didn’t notice him as you seemed too immersed in the conversation on the phone. “What do you mean you’re taking my money? Yes, you are my parents and legal guardians but that money is the one I earned.” She stopped just some steps away from Owen anywhere in his presence.
“Mom I get it you don’t like it, but I’m still going to do it. This is my dream….” silence “ Oh, so you are going to leave me penniless and starving on the street now? And even rob the money I won by working hard for myself?” silence again. “You know what, I’d rather live in the streets than be on the same rooftop as people like you. I’m done.” You said ending the call.
To say Owen was shocked was an understatement. The guy felt totally horrible after he saw you crouching down on the spot and starting to weep. He wanted to talk but his timing had passed because if he revealed he was there now, you could end up feeling worse. So he kept silent as he stared at your weeping and crouching form.
“I’m back.” Harry’s voice came from the other side as both your and Owen's heads turned in his direction. That’s when you noticed Owen sitting there, eyes wide open as he looked at you with an expression of pity on his face. He had heard everything.
“Hey! Owen c’mon let’s go!” Harry said coming closer at that moment noticing your presence as your and Owen's eyes were glued to each-other. “Oh, isn’t this…” You couldn’t hear the rest as your eyes blacked out and you lost consciousness.
After that day Owen took you to the hospital, always coming and helping you with everything even asking you to become part of his crew. In the beginning, you felt ashamed you didn’t want him to pity you or anyone for that matter, and got angry at him. But after his continuous persistence you agreed and that’s how you became part of the Light Cavalry.
In the beginning, everyone was wary of you, but with time your kindness crept inside the heart of everyone in the crew, including Owens.
You were not only kind but also very courageous and straightforward. You always said what was on your mind, and when you thought it was alright went head-on into situations that other people would have to think twice about or never even think of going that far.
One of those was when you sprained your leg badly. Owen, although he had started having a soft spot for you, was very harsh when it came to you not respecting your own body and not taking care of yourself. So that day you were not supposed to be part of the team that would enter the competition. Owen was not there that day, so it was only you and the others.
As you were all waiting to start you saw one of the other members of the crew come. He looked pale as if all the color had been drained out of him. “Tommy, what’s wrong?” Harry asked in a worried voice. Tommy was unable to answer before he started vomiting. You all were not sure what it was but the next thing that happened was the ambulance coming and Tommy getting sent to the hospital.
“What do we do now? We have one less member, they won’t allow us to participate this way. I’ll call Owen.” Noah, who took out her phone ready to call, was stopped by you. “You know Owen has an important meeting with our sponsor today. If we were to lose them we’re done for we can’t possibly ask him to come here now. Plus he would still be late even if he rushed here.”
“What do you suggest then? The only available member here is you and…” she stopped as she saw you nodding. “You’re injured and Owen repeatedly told us to keep you away from anything that would hurt your leg until you fully recovered.”
“There is no other option.” You were determined and all of them including Noah knew how stubborn you were. So they just accepted it, ready to get reprimanded by Owen later, but as you had said it was the only option.
Your team won the race, although at the last moments, you ended up barely feeling your leg anymore. You were unsure how you still carried on but you were able to touch the finish line first, with the others coming not far after you. Seconds later you fell on the pavement unable to get up as you couldn’t feel your leg anymore.
When Owen came to find you at the hospital having found out about everything he didn’t talk to you, he just saw you once and left furious out of there. In the days that came by you were not allowed to leave the hospital until you fully recovered, by Owens order. He had been so angry shouting at everyone for being careless and didn’t even come once to meet you. All of these things were told to you by the rest of the crew who would daily come and stay for some time with you.
After getting discharged the first thing you did was go to Owen. In the beginning, you were unable to find him as you searched everywhere, what you didn’t expect was to find him in the alley where you had fainted that day he found out the truth about you.
As he was sitting right at the same spot as that day you sat next to him. That’s when he finally talked pouring all his feelings and worrying, telling you every detail of how he felt that day when he heard you were sent to the hospital, how his heart would clench every time you did such reckless stuff, and how he had actually fallen for you.
At first, it took you by surprise out of everything, Owen being in love with you that was the most unexpected thing you had ever heard. But you also knew inside you that you had also been secretly liking him for sometime and as much as you had tried to suppress those feelings, the moment that he poured his heart out at you, you decided to accept them.
That’s how you both started dating and let’s say caused quite the headache to the crew who from now on had to deal with Owen's over the top lovey-dovey attitude towards you.
Vinny
It was a rainy Friday night when you first met Vinny, not the best time to be out and about, but here you were inside the convenience store eating some snacks while waiting for the rain to stop.
“If it’s going to continue like this we might even expect flooding really soon.” That lady that was working at the convenience store said as she looked at you buying a second batch of snacks to pass time.
“Let’s hope not,” you said paying and sitting down on one of the stools looking outside the window.
As you continued eating you heard the door open. Coming inside was a drenched red haired boy from head to toe. The lady working there gave him a towel as she felt sorry for him and told him to sit on one of the stools on the window.
The red haired boy came sitting one stool away from yours as he continued drying himself. You noticed how one of his eyes was red. Besides that, he looked absolutely handsome. And the way he dried his wet red hair was so hot. Not to mention the drenched white shirt he was wearing, showing all there was to his well-sculpted body.
Noticing your stare he turned his head glaring at you. “What do you want?” his tone angry, warning you to better stay quiet and not speak.
“You’re hot.” Words which came to the red haired guy as quite the shock.
He did not reply, turning to look at the flooding street. While you continued snacking. Occasionally you would open your chips or biscuits and push it towards him. In the beginning, he would not as much as stare at it.
“What are you doing?” he asked after the 10th time of you doing the same exact thing again. “Jeez, what’s with the attitude I was just trying to be nice. It’s going to take some time for it to stop and you look bored so I thought a snack could help you pass some time,” you answered. “But anyway suit yourself, I guess.”
After that, some time passed while your bag of chips was still in the middle Vinny, started taking some. And that’s how you spent a good 4 hours together until the rain stopped that night.
After that you occasionally so Vinny, some of the guys you were in class with. That’s also how you found out he was part of their cycling crew.
You also would occasionally meet him at that same convenience store and as always offer him snacks or sit with him if he seemed to be staying for a while. There was also quite a change in his attitude, beside the very frequent meetings you would have there which seemed more than just mere coincidence he would always take his spot next to you. He didn’t need you to invite him anymore, he would just sit there with two of your favorite snacks or drinks, one for you and one for himself.
That’s how one day out of the blue you asked him if he liked you. “What? No.” Vinny said getting up and ready to leave the store. “But I do. Do you want to date me?” you decided to take that step as you could see with his personality he would never.
It took more than that for Vinny to finally accept dating you but when he did. Dating him was the sweetest thing that could have happened to you. He didn’t have much so he couldn’t buy stuff for you, but he would emotionally be always there no matter how bad the situation was he was always by your side in good and bad times.
And that’s what you loved about the relationship with him, you knew he was present, and you knew he undoubtedly loved you and only you going as far as to present you to his crew too.
Minu
Meeting Minu for the first time was during one of both your father's dinner meetings. You would usually meet Yumi accompanying her father, so it was quite strange to meet her brother Minu, who had been a mystery until then.
At the beginning of the dinner, your fathers started talking with each-other about business plans and the recent news of their new investments as the conversation continued you and Minu would just glance at one another and that was it.
Then the conversation went to the topic of your school life and as always your father started boasting about your accomplishments and how you had been a genius in literally everything since a young child and how he was so proud of you. Then the other parent would start boasting about their kid too and so on a never ending story of whose kid was the best. It had become so normal to hear that, that you would always space out in the middle of their talk since the only thing you had to do was nod and smile.
But when it came to Minu’s dad, you had to come back from the spacing out. He did not compliment Minu as how it was usually supposed to be. In fact, he talked about how he was quite lacking in many areas and that he was very obsessed with cycling. Not that you cared much about that but when you saw the guy's expression darken as his father was talking about how cycling had no value and such and that he needed to start getting more interested in business.
Something in you felt bad about that so you decided to interfere. “What? Cycling? You must be amazing at it then, I guess I can’t compare to that. I’ve never been that good at it, although I’ve always wanted to.” your words caught both of their attention. Making Minu's father stop in the middle of what he was saying.
“You’re really interested?” Minu asked, a hue of disbelief flashing in his eyes. He had definitely caught on to your lie, as had your father who on the contrary was just waiting to see what you would pull out with this.
“Yep! It’s amazing it’s rare to find someone who is actually interested in cycling and is good at it.” you continued blabbering on as Minu chipped in some words here and there.
“Dad, I think we are interrupting you both. May I and Minu be excused to go out and talk more about this?” Your dad grinned, finally understanding your intentions as he looked at Minu’s father. “I guess the youngsters wouldn’t be that interested in our old men talk.” He said as Minu’s father agreed.
“I guess you achieved your goal, you don’t have to hide it anymore.” Minu’s voice stopping you from stepping outside the door and into the garden next to the restaurant.
You flashed him a smile. “Do I have to thank you for this?” He asked. “Nah, I wanted to escape from that too. You just gave me a reason to breathe some fresh air.” You lied although you had to admit it was getting too stuffy in there so maybe it was not a complete lie.
After that, he asked you to exchange phone numbers, so if you ever found yourself in a predicament he would repay you that day.
In the beginning, you didn’t text each-other. Then one day you asked him which model of bicycle to use as a beginner as you had actually become interested in cycling and that was when it all really started. He would help you decide, and give you recommendations or tips on what to do.
There were days he would even come by so he could help you practice and stuff. You are not sure if you started this whole thing due to Minu but with time you could see that it was mostly due to him. His face and words had lingered so much in your mind after that day and every day after leading you to how things were going right now.
Minu in the beginning was there just to help but with time he saw how his visits became more and more frequent and even if that day you didn’t feel like cycling or didn’t have time he would still stay with you, go out with you even eat out with you. So much so that he decided, it was the moment.
One day while you were practicing you fell and hurt your leg, a worried expression on Minu’s face as he helped disinfect it and patch it up. “Thank y…..” you were unable to finish the sentence as Minu hoisted you up in a bridal style refusing to let you walk until you reached your bed.
After that, he would come every day to take care of you and one day as you told him he didn’t have to do it all the time, he stopped in his tracks, sitting down on your bed next to you.
"I have to tell you something." He paused for a brief moment to gather his ideas in order to communicate them as clearly as possible. "I think I like you." He swallowed hard after averting his gaze in order to avoid looking you in the eyes. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way..." but he was engulfed in a hug by none other than you as you admitted to liking him back.
And that’s how you ended up dating. In the beginning, he was always trying to act cool and show off his biking skills which would make you giggle. It was so cute looking at him trying his best to be a cool boyfriend.
But with time you explained to him that you fell for the Minu who was himself that didn’t need to act cool because he already was. After that he didn’t try as hard, he never needed to anyway as you had already given your heart to him.
He would buy you gifts and take you everytime he had a competition never stepping down from his role as your personal cycling trainer, which became more about him acting as if he wanted to correct you just to hold you or touch you, while you teasingly would lean on his touch loving the way how he was the only one who could make your heart beat this way.
#windbreaker webtoon#windbreaker x reader#windbreaker characters#windbreaker manhwa#windbreaker headcanon#windbreaker minu#windbreaker vinny#windbreaker owen knight#owen knight x reader#vinny hong x reader
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Zoro x GN!Swordsman!Reader (with a powerful/unique sword)
Thank you anon for this request! I'm still getting the hang of headcanons, so I hope you enjoy these! (Also ty to my partner because he loves Zoro and swords, and wanted to share a couple thoughts) 💚
Summary: Headcanons and drabble for Zoro with a partner that is a strong swordsman with a powerful and unique sword
Word Count: 544
Rating/Warnings: SFW, GN!Reader, Fluff, (Maybe some Angst if you squint), Swearing, Kissing, Mildly Suggestive, Implied/Brief Descriptions of Violence
A/N: Imagine Zoro nerding out with someone who shares his biggest only interest. And then they kiss 🥰 I need to see it
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
Headcanons
Sparring!! Oh hot damn, the sparring is so good! The playful competition between you both makes you push yourselves even further.
That heat can lead straight to the bedroom. Or really wherever you happen to be sparring, if you’re comfortable. Hearts racing, adrenaline filling your veins. He loves the way you challenge him. He loves the way you taste after your blades have met.
There may need to be boundaries set, especially depending on your goal. If it’s also your goal to become the world’s greatest swordsman, it may lead to more exciting and playful banter, sparring, etc. But it may lead to issues when it comes to decisions, i.e. which one of you will challenge the most powerful swordsmen in battles. (Or the inevitable circumstance of one of you truly beating the other.) It could be a playful rivalry, it could go sour, or it could be a mix of both that you’ll have to work through together.
Since you happen to possess a very powerful sword with unique abilities, Zoro will never stop suggesting you let him give it a try. It’ll come up in so many conversations, and he’ll try to convince you to give it up in a bet. You never do.
You might occasionally use the three sword/overcompensating jokes, but only if he was really being a little shit. He'd make you pay for it though.
Oh the cute sword care moments!! It’s like a mini vacation, you both hide from the rest of the crew and silently take care of your blades. Your deep breaths match up as you run your fingers along the cool metal.
“Hey, babe. Want me to take care of that one for ya?” “You’re not touching my sword, Zoro.”
Endless competitions. Some are breathed against your ear in a husky tease as you’re about to fight a hard battle. Some are yelled over the heads of your crewmates as a slew of enemies come charging forward.
“Bet you can’t kill that guy, faster than I get those three over there.” “Oh, fuck you, babe. I’ll get these five before you shut your stupid mouth.” “Wanna bet your sword on it?”
Drabble
“So, how many did ya get,” Zoro teased, coming up behind you to wrap his sweaty arms around your waist.
The battle had barely ended, and your breathing was still ragged, but you managed to sigh.
“I didn’t agree to that bet, babe.”
“I got twelve. No way you got more than that.”
“Wow, you’re really bragging with that number,” you laughed, turning in his arms to see his eyes narrow.
He sucked his teeth, touching his forehead to yours before his voice came out low and dangerous.
“How many?”
“You’re not getting my sword.”
He kissed you then, pressing his body against yours. You melted into him, the heat of the battle still flowing through you. Your fingers felt almost tingly as you wrapped them around his neck.
Breaking apart just enough to catch your breath, you saw that little twitch at the corner of his lips.
“How–”
“You’re never touching it, asshole,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you walked away. You grinned at the sound of him huffing behind you.
“FINE, no sword! Just tell me how many you got!”
Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!
a/n: I love this request so much! Zoro is such a fucking nerd. He'd have the best fucking time sparring with his partner 💚
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
#zoro x reader#one piece x reader#one piece headcanons#turtletaub hcs and drabbles#zoro headcanons#x reader#fic requests#mine#roronoa zoro x reader#one piece drabble#zoro drabble#zoro x gn reader
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Star Crossed Lovers Rivals ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥✧˚ · .
[Rival!Taehyun x Fem!Reader]
Pairing: Rival!Taehyun x fem!reader
Genre(s): Romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, hints of angst! (Also particularly academic rivals to lovers bc it is phenomenal to read), post-college au.
Contains: Swearing/Profanity, mild mentions of explicit behaviour (more so tension lmao). (Wow! I’m not writing angst for once!)
Summary: “Oh just a B? What happened? I thought you were on top of your game? Don’t tell me, you didn’t study?” Your world comes crashing down in shambles as you furiously glare daggers into the raven haired boy in front of you as he condescendingly smiles with his gleaming A+ paper in hand. He was so infuriating; you wanted to punch his handsome face so bad.
Wait, handsome? God no, you’d rather be caught dead than ever think he was...wait what were you so pressed about again?
Shit.
His lips form an arrogant smile, “Cat got your tongue?” Your gaze darkens, “You’re so dead the moment the bell rings.” He brushes past you as he chuckles, “See you after class, sore loser.”
Surely his heart must be racing just as much as yours does right? Right?
How could you two ever fall for each other?
—————————••••••••••••••—————————
You miserably scan through your résumé. This had to be your third interview this week. A list of exquisite grades lines your sheet with your very accomplished credentials alongside the many efforts you put into extracurriculars when you attended college.
Even the work experience you gathered during that time whilst balancing exams, holy fuck! What more could they possibly want from you? For what preposterous reason could you not get a job. You tried to craft the most perfect résumé and it still wasn’t enough. You knew the labour market was competitive but not this competitive.
Frustration builds up inside you, like a shaken bottle of champagne you knew you were on the brink of exploding. Your crumbling student debt was one issue but the main issue was you had to pay rent very soon and your own savings were surely not going to hold up if you didn’t get a better paying job soon. At the moment you worked in retail (which in summary is terrifying dealing with a plethora of customers- mostly bad).
You let out a pitiful laugh peering back at your résumé. What was the point of working so hard back then? A year and a half ago, you were on the brink of exhaustion trying to reach number one all for a bunch of stupid grades. You competed so hard. Competed with...him.
You wonder how he’s doing now? You’ve not spoken to him since you left college with a degree in business psychology. He’s probably doing way better than you were. That snobby little arrogant-
You catch yourself smiling instinctually. Fuck. Your heart feels warm as though a woollen blanket encompasses it. You often realise how much of your college life you spent with him. Not that you’d ever admit it to anyone, you actually missed your senseless and petty bickering. You missed his cocky grin and you missed his glare when you beat him in an exam.
You let out a sigh; well that time of your life is over. You maybe do regret not using college as an outlet to enjoy yourself and not constantly trying to compete and work hard. You wished you could have gotten to know your so called rival behind his vast array of A+ grades.
Perhaps you wish he could have gotten to know you too behind your academic achievements.
“Miss Y/n. You may enter for the interview.”
You perk up in your seat shakily clasping at your file. “Ah, yes thank you.” Well, here goes. You tightly grip at your file. You were sure, if you didn’t make it through this interview. You’d keep trying again and again.
You were no quitter.
—-
Your hands tremble as your eyes scan the email. At first when the notification popped up your heart plummeted. You just knew that it was going to be bad news. You tried procrastinating in an attempt to not read it however curiosity got the better of you. Perhaps a tiny fraction of you had an ounce of hope that you’d maybe gotten the job.
You click the email open and begin scanning through the array of typed words:
[Congratulations! We are delighted to inform you of your acceptance at our company. We’ll be glad to see you on our amazing team!]
No way! You blink astounded. You got the job! You’ve finally got a decently paying job! Something you could work with and in a few years time maybe even think about getting promoted to a managerial position. You scan the rest of the email’s details feeling all sorts of jittery excitement.
You’d be starting next Monday. You couldn’t believe it, maybe you had a stroke of luck after all. You started preparing yourself for your new job filled to the brim with gratitude and thrill.
Soon enough the very Monday you had anticipated arrived. Though you weren’t quite as excited as before; now your mind more filled with anxiety and fear at how your first day would go instead. What could possibly go wrong? It’s the marketing department, there’s nothing to be afraid of right?
Your eyes glance up hearing footsteps coming down the sleek modern hallway. You wipe your clammy hands and attempt to look somewhat confident. You had been told one of the employees would be tasked with guiding you around and showing you the general gist of your duties as an employee here. You definitely had to make a strong first impression!
Your gaze meets the tall, ebony-haired figure only for your heart to almost come up to your throat. No fucking way? That surely isn’t who you think it is?
“Holy shit,” the figure comes to a pause a few metres in front of you.
You find yourself standing up; your knees almost buckle. Fate was indeed fucking around with you like a ball of yarn between a kitten’s paws.
The male’s lips curl into the same disgustingly attractive smirk you’d seen thousands of times. “Well, I heard the new employee was over qualified. I didn’t think I’d see you here though. I knew they exaggerated a bit.”
You grit your teeth in annoyance. There it was the ever so condescending tone of voice accompanied with that signature head tilt to the right. You smile overly sweetly, “When I heard someone was going to guide me, I thought it would be with someone more experience.”
He scoffs, “What happened? Didn’t you say you were gonna work for some big company? Become the executive manager.” He’s taunting you.
You lean forward, file in hand with a condescending smirk of your own, “What about you Kang Taehyun? Didn’t you say you were going to become a marketing executive at THE biggest company in the country? This company is big but not the biggest.”
Taehyun’s gaze darkens and his jaw tightens. “Piss off.” You hum delighted, “See not so funny when the tables turn is it?”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Can’t believe I have to babysit you for two days.” You mutter, “Believe me I’m just as enthusiastic as you are.” A snort escapes his lips. “Yeah, yeah, follow me then.”
He begins the tour of the office. Numerous curious eyes are set on you both as the burden of ‘newest addition to the department’ now dwells on your shoulders.
Your eyes absorb what he’s wearing. A sleek white shirt with a loosened blue tie. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows showcasing his strong arms. It appears he still hasn’t stopped working out since college. How unfortunate for you.
Your cheeks begin to warm. You hated to admit it but since college he’d definitely changed. He’d unfortunately gotten more attractive than he already was. He must be fighting off dates left, right and center. Not that you’d relate. You’d only dated one guy in college (you shudder) you agreed to never think about that memory again. Big yikes.
His dark hair sleekly hung in strands over his forehead with his sharp eyes peering through. Taehyun always had somewhat of an intimidating expression; whether it was unintentional or not you didn’t know. You wondered if through your years together if you ever genuinely saw him smile…
“I’d like you to repeat what I just said.” He sharply shatters your internal conversation. You splutter awkwardly. Well fuck. “Uh…”
Taehyun deadpans at you, “Yeah, fuckin’ thought so. How did you graduate again?”
You sneer. “Oh? You’re asking me that? 2nd rank?”
By the end of your degree after endlessly fighting, when the finals rankings of grades came out he turned out to be second place in your batch whilst you were thrillingly first (by a four point difference but that’s not important).
He sneers, “Mind your tone, newbie.” You snort, “So cringe.” Taehyun mutters, “I was beginning to forget how fucking insufferable you were back then.” You cooe all doe-eyed, “Aw, what a shame. Glad I arrived just in time to refresh your memory.”
He grates his teeth and runs his fingers through his locks. His lips twitch slightly before he spins back around, “Anyway, I’ll teach you how to use the printer and scanner and then I’ll take you to your desk.”
You found yourself smiling. It was odd, all he was doing was insulting you and making sarcastic remarks (you doing the same back,) however it made you feel giddy. It reminded you of the same rivalry you had back then. That rivalry was what gave you motivation to work as hard as you did.
“So that’s about it. If you have any other doubts-“
You interrupt, “Yeah, ask you. Got it.” He scoffs, “No, I was gonna say don’t ask me. Annoy someone else. Or suffer.” You pout, “God, you’re even sweeter than I remember.”
He rolls his eyes and is about to walk back over before you murmur, “Wait.” He raises a brow, “Hm?”
“Uh, actually nothing.” You find yourself slouching into your seat. He gives you an exasperated stare before walking off. A heavy feeling sinks into your heart; he didn’t truly hate you right? What if your attitude was making it worse?
Maybe you should stop retaliating for a bit. You’re coworkers now, not in college. You had to remain professional. Yeah… that’s it.
Another day passes by uneventfully with you asking other people for help pitifully whenever the printer got jammed. It’s not your fault the printer is so shit. (It was an expensive one and it was clearly your fault.)
You groan, “Every fucking time.” Your newest dilemma was trying to adjust to the company software and trying to correctly input in the numbers and formulas in Excel. You were damn good in fact, except for today.
Your numbers didn’t seem to be creating the correct chart. You had gone wrong somewhere with the inputting but no matter how ever many times you tried editing and reading through it, you couldn’t see the problem.
You hear a snicker behind you and you spin your chair around to see the infamous man you wished to avoid. You groan. “Not happy to see me?,” He pouts.
You wave your hand nonchalantly, “Leave me alone. I don’t need your condescending tone behind me.”
Taehyun murmurs with a cocky smile, “Yeah but those charts look shit.” You glare at him, “Yeah, I’m aware.”
He places a hand on the back of your chair as he steps closer. The scent of his cologne climbs up your nostrils overwhelmingly. Shit, he smelled good. Hints of warm wood, bergamot and mint maybe. Whatever concoction it was, it made you almost feel dizzy.
“What’s the issue? Chart formatting or inputting? Let’s check the formulas you’ve put in.”
You huff, “I don’t need your help.” He arches a brow, “Oh really? It’s not like you’ve been sitting for twenty minutes staring at the screen with a look of despair or anything.”
“You-!” You bark. He leans over placing his hand on the mouse almost scaring the shit out of you when his hand brushes against yours. You place your hands on your lap awkwardly. Taehyun was insanely close; leant over your right side using the back of your chair as a support.
You didn’t need help…right? His brows furrow intensely as his maroon irises scan and dart across the screen with incredible speed. He appears to murmur to himself. The intense look of concentration seemed to make your heart palpitate. His cologne enveloped you like a blanket.
“Mm, I think the problem is here. See this, we’ll replace it with another formula, I think it’s easier with this one. Can I shift some of this?” You find yourself nodding along with whatever he says paying attention to him working. He’s clearly gone through the exact same problem as you.
Soon enough the charts start looking much, much better. The way you wanted them to appear. You find yourself feeling defeated. He’s probably thinking of how stupid you are. You peer down at your lap at you mumble out, “Thank you.”
He doesn’t move from beside you and you hear him pleasantly hum, “Couldn’t hear you? Mind saying it again?” You scoff to yourself. What a nuisance! “Thanks, Tae…hyun…” You find yourself stuttering as your peer up to angrily say thanks. You forgot how close his face was to yours.
Taehyun stumbles back up to standing. The more seconds pass and you realise his cheeks are blossoming into hue of red. He clears his throat, “Anyway, good. Be grateful.” You roll your eyes, “Oh my saviour.”
He smirks, “Don’t beat yourself up over this by the way. I know what you’re like. I made the same mistake on my first week here. Obviously not ever again. But yeah, another coworker helped me.”
Was this his way of trying to cheer you up? He knew what you felt? Of course he did. He wanted academic validation and was just as much of a perfectionist as you were. He even saw you at your most vulnerable. It was as though you were two sides of the same sheet of paper.
You find yourself smiling a little too hard. He appears to be staring at you too.
There’s a silence between you two. You expected him to leave. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t let the words leave his lips.
So you do something that you’d never thought you’d do. “Hey Taehyun…do you wanna grab coffee together?”
His eyes that you usually saw as very sharp and murky, for the first time glistened in intrigue. His lips curl into a mischievous smile, “I suppose you do owe me. I can put the coffee on your tab.”
You groan as you stand up after saving your work. “I never said that.” He hums, “You implied it.”
“I didn’t imply shit.”
With that, you find yourself walking beside Taehyun to the company café. He orders a Caramel Macchiato accompanied with a freshly baked flaky croissant (all unfortunately on your tab).
“This reminds me of the time I bought you lunch after you were sobbing because you got your first C grade.” Taehyun grins taking a massive bite out of his croissant. You both sit down and you snap, “Fuck you. First and last C grade by the way. You know how hard I studied for that test! The teacher didn’t like me, I swear!”
He murmurs with a smirk, “Sounds like an excuse to me. I still remember you sniffling and your puffed up cheeks. I think that was the first time I saw you cry, actually.�� You whine, “You’re so mean, you know that?” He snorts, “Oh? So you’re not?”
You knew passing was all your parents asked for. It was a hard exam, so getting a C was amazing. You were grateful but…you felt for your own personal standards, it wasn’t good enough. You know better now, of course. You put a lot of pressure on yourself back then. You knew Taehyun did too. How did he handle it?
“You know, it was stupid how hard we competed against each other back then. It was fun, but stupid. We both had huge sky high aspirations but here we are working at a regular company.” Taehyun murmurs swirling his coffee.
You softly murmur, “It’s okay.” He inhales deeply, “Yeah, it’s okay.” He hums putting back on his blunt facade, “Anyway, at least I wasn’t the only one brought down. Here you are.” Taehyun grins, “Think about it, that C grade you got made no difference?”
You glare, “Very funny.” Your mind flickers back to the memory.
“Here.”
You attempt to hurriedly wipe your tear-stained face. You didn’t want him of all people seeing you this pathetic.
“No use in trying to hide that you’re crying.” He sits beside you on the the grass under the tree. “If you’re here to rub it in, kindly piss off,” you sniffle out. “On a normal day, maybe. But…hey. Look at me.” You shake your head. “Oh come on, y/n.”
“You’re not a failure. This is not the end of the world, y/n. You did well okay. Even I didn’t get an A. Our lecturer didn’t teach shit. It’s not our fault.” He huffs out. “Everyone got hit hard.”
His voice cracks slightly, “I get it. I get what your feeling.” You peer up at him with glossy eyes. He holds a sadness in his eyes. At that moment you knew he was also experiencing the same pain as you. It maybe insignificant or stupid to others but to him, he knew.
“As I said, here.” He holds out a paper bag. The smell of food wafts from it making your stomach rumble. Oh yeah, you hadn’t eaten lunch. You peer inside, there was a burger, fries and an ice cream cup. He ordered you food.
“You didn’t have to-“ you splutter. “Too bad, I noticed you didn’t leave the campus to get lunch today like usual. A-Anyway, don’t get used to this treatment.” Taehyun mutters. He brings out his own bag with his own order. He gets himself comfortable beside you as he starts taking his food out of the takeaway bag. “Well what are you waiting for? Go on, eat.”
Your heart races. He was eating with you. Your academic rival, your so called enemy was eating lunch with you. lunch that he bought. Taehyun chews as he says, “Just you wait, I’ll beat your ass next week though. We have a seminar in Mrs Webbs’ class that we’re getting graded for.”
“Yeah keep talking out of your ass. My Powerpoints and presentation skills far supersede yours.” He snarks, “You talk big for someone who still types on Microsoft Word 2010 version.”
“Shut the fuck up, my dad will upgrade my laptop soon I swear.”
You’re brought out of your reverie with Taehyun accidentally slamming his knee against the metal table support. You murmur, “Deserved.”
He yelps, “For what!? I did fucking nothing!” You smirk to yourself, “Yeah I know. Still deserved.” “You act like you’re a twelve year old commenting on Tiktok.” He scoffs rubbing his knee.
“We should do this more often.” You find yourself murmuring. “What slandering each other? Wasn’t college enough for you?” He smirks playfully.
“I mean you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy our bickering?” You mumble sipping your own drink. He leans his head back exaggeratedly as if deep in thought. “Well…I suppose I happen to enjoy it ever so slightly.” You don’t know why but your heart happens to jump around in your chest at the admittance.
“See!” You call out. He rolls his eyes biting his croissant again. “Maybe you’re just a masochist,” he replies with a snark. You gawk at him, “Well you’re the one being mean ninety percent of the time, so maybe you’re a sadist.”
The table goes silent with other members of the nearby tables giving you both awkward stares.
“This out of context sounds really bad you know.” Taehyun clears his throat appearing to find the ground more interesting all of a sudden.
Your cheeks heat up and you scoff, “You and these people around us are just dirty minded.” His eyes narrow and be coyly smiles, “I wasn’t the one who insinuated that they liked being bickered at and insulted. You were. Like being degr-“
You sharply stand up with your half bitten pastry in hand, “Well, seeing that you are being immature, Taehyun. I’m going to have to cut this coffee break short.” He promptly follows behind you. You hear a sound that you’d thought you’d never hear.
It was odd. You’ve never imagined what it was like to hear him genuinely laugh. Yet here you were. You turn around; your arm clasping the strap of your bag. His eyes glimmer as they widen. The sound of laughter that escapes him is so…it’s definitely unique. You liked it. His wide smile as he rushes after you cackling at your embarrassment.
Taehyun’s dark hair bounces as he jogs to catch up to where you stand. “Oh come now, you didn’t have to leave me like that, I wasn’t serious.” You mutter, “Yeah, yeah.”
He looks beautiful when he genuinely smiles. You clear your throat flustered as he catches you staring at him and you start walking off again. “Ugh, wait!”
So it carried on like this, your occasional talks from across your desks became daily bickering. Even both your fellow colleagues were amused by the bickering and other witty comebacks that you both hit each other with. Your once in awhile coffee breaks became eating lunch together everyday.
Of course neither of you would admit that you in fact enjoyed each other’s company a little too much.
“You know he definitely likes you.” You roll your eyes at your colleague Momo. You didn’t want to build up unnecessary hope. He probably thought of you as a friend, a friendly rival that he liked to be witty with. So you shouldn’t raise your expectations either.
You two were rivals to the bittersweet end.
“How can you both be so fucking stupidly smart? Are all nerds like this?” You deadpan at her. “What I meant was, your feelings are very obvious towards each other.”
“Don’t you think it was fate to meet him again?” She was a hopeless romantic; something that you were not. She gushes, “I can see the way he peers at you over the top of his monitor. Whenever he passed by your desk the smile on his lips…ah!”
You freeze, “Be for real right now.” She smiles teasingly, “Why don’t you test out my findings yourself?” You glare, “Must be nice to spectate from the side huh?” She shrugs innocently, “What can I say? You’re the main character here, not me.” You release a drained sigh.
Feelings from the past were mixing into a worrying concoction of hope and romance. Did he truly see you that way? Or were you setting yourself up for failure?
So just like Momo said, you sat yourself at your desk and began to work, typing away. You feel your heart pound in your chest. Your eyes briefly move up across the desk divider and you almost feel the world slowing down to a halt. Just like she said, there he was peering over his computer monitor like a cat peeking over a kitchen counter with its paws.
His immediately peers down at his desk clearly embarrassed he got caught. You can’t help but breathlessly laugh. Your heart flutters uncontrollably. That was the cutest thing you’d seen from him. It wouldn’t hurt to tease him a little right?
Maybe he’d tell you his reason if you just gave him a little playful nudge.
You find him near the filing cabinets a bit later and decide to approach him with a mischievous smile lining your lips. “Hey.” He peers up folder in hand, “Oh hey.”
“Just here to grab some files, the manager asked for February’s reports,” Taehyun hums. He notes your teasing expression and he tilts his head, “What’s got you so high and mighty?”
“The fact I caught you staring at me two to three times over your monitor.” You dramatically sigh, “It’s truly a burden to be so stunning. Even you my mortal enemy, can’t resist.”
“Now what makes you think I’d look at my public enemy number one with heart eyes?” He scoffs closing the file. You hum, “Oh? So, I’m your number one?”
“You have very selective hearing. Might want to get that checked.” He snorts. “You have tunnel vision, because you only seem to be looking at me,” you huff.
His gaze shifts and he tosses the file to side on one of the emptier shelves. Taehyun begins to walk forward speedily catching you off guard. You find yourself stumbling back into another one of the metallic cabinets with an awful bang. Thank goodness it was just you two in here.
You let out a squeak as he suddenly leans over you blocking your attempt to escape. His gaze swirls in a mix of emotions but yet that cocky smile is triumphant on his face as always.
“You know since college, I have to give it to you. I never seen someone with such sharp wit. It’s actually very annoying.” He hums. You’re more preoccupied that he’s got you trapped between him and cabinet.
“Worried someone is gonna walk in? Oh, if they do. You’re gonna have to explain this one. Not me.” He hums. His eyes scan every crevice of your face making you shiver. “You’re the one who got us in this predicament. Now if you would just kindly move your arm-!”
He leans in even closer. You might faint you think. His cologne overwhelms your senses and you hate how attractive he is this close up. “You damn well could have just walked around me; I only have one arm up. Yet you’re choosing to stay.”
Shit, he got you good. You peer away, “Whatever Taehyun.”
“Just admit you like me.” He shamelessly hums into your ear. You scoff, “you first.”
“Oh come on, you were making heart eyes from the first day.” He cooes. You snap back, “No, I was not!”
(Yes, you in fact were.)
“We’re getting nowhere.” He huffs. You glare, “Just say it.” You peer down noticing how close his lips are. He does the same mannerism.
“I have an idea, if that’s okay with you.” He whispers leaning in. You close your eyes, “Yeah. That’s okay.” No more words were exchanged except for a sweet kiss, a passionate wordless exchange of how you and him felt.
After all, you two were too stubborn to be the first to admit it. So what better way then to showcase it than this?
You both walk out of the cabinet files in hand flushed. “So.” You mumble.
“So…” He responds back. “Are we like…? You know? Or was it just an in the moment kind of thing? Because that’s not what I’m looking for.” You spill out all at once.
Taehyun stops walking and starts laughing making you whine, “Oh don’t be like that. Answer the question! It’s vital information!”
“Well my precious rival, it was not an in the moment thing. I was hoping you could in fact be my one and only rival.”
You smile at him, “Rival? Only yours?” He nods, “Only mine.“
“You do know I’m asking you out hypothetically, yes?” He raises a brow. You smack his arm, “Yeah, I’m hypothetically saying yes. Yes. We got that. Are we both clear?”
Taehyun hums pleased, “Then. Then yeah, be prepared. You’re gonna get a date so phenomenal you’ll never find a better man.”
You roll your eyes, “How romantic of you. You sound like a loser.” He scoffs, “That’s not how you should be talking to someone who’s gonna take you out on a date.”
You groan trying to contain your smile, walking beside him, “You’re insufferable.”
He hums with a pretty smile, “I know. You are too.”
———————••••••••••—————
#taehyun#kang taehyun#taehyun txt#taehyun tomorrow x together#tomorrow x together#yeonjun#hueningkai#beomgyu#soobin#txt#txt x reader#txt x you#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop fanfic#txt fluff#txt angst#txt fanfic#solomon#enemies to lovers#academic rivals#fanfic
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may the best man win | lando norris, pierre gasly
pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader
part 7 (final part) to better left unsaid (the better series)
time passes, feelings changes and sometimes they grow stronger. do you attempt to return to the history you know, to what once made you feel comfortable? is it even possible for you to love again, but more importantly, are you ready to be loved?
word count: 6.6k
tags: heartbreak lmao but its not all heartbreak, or is it idk all i know is im team max
Two Months Later
Pierre should have been ecstatic as he crossed the finish line in Abu Dhabi. It was his last lap, his last race of the year. He finished in the top ten in the driver standings, ahead of his team mate, which was something he should have been proud of, and he was.
He was also proud of the fight he put in this season, especially when the points became close, specifically with Lando. The two of them spent the better part of these last two months battling it out for the same finishing positions.
But competition with the British driver had been tense ever since Monza. While it was unspoken, they both took their frustrations out on the track. Both of them blamed the other for why you weren’t there.
Fans had picked up on it. Noticing that the two of them didn’t interact as much as they used to. There were no inside jokes shared in the paddock. They barely glanced at each other if they had press conferences lined up. There was a clear line drawn between them and that line was you.
Pierre told himself that you were at home watching the races, that you were still cheering him on, but there was no way of telling if that was true or not.
He had thought about inviting you to the last race of the season, just out of kindness, but he didn’t want to push you further away. You needed time.
So there was no one to congratulate him at the end of his last race. No one to drive back to the hotel with and reminisce about the season's highlights and no one to accompany him to the club where everyone was celebrating. It didn’t help that the girlfriends of other drivers were all there as well and Pierre just had to smile and greet them, pretending he wasn’t jealous even though all he wanted was you at his side.
Pierre stepped up to the bar. He’d be blind not to notice the tall blonde girl sitting on the stool wearing a tight black dress that made her legs look even longer. She eyed Pierre up as he approached, a coy smile on her face.
Pierre was polite, he smiled and nodded. She could have been a fan of motorsport for all he knew, he wasn’t going to be a prick. He rested his forearms against the surface of the bar and when the bartender approached, Pierre ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t need anything fancy tonight, he just wanted to get drunk.
The girl next to him adjusted herself on the seat, nearly slipping off. Pierre glanced in her direction, strictly out of concern, “You alright?”
She let out a breath of a chuckle, “Yeah, all good. Just-” she glanced around, but Pierre knew these tactics, he was familiar with them. “-just waiting for a friend, but I think I may have been ditched.”
Pierre hummed, turning his attention to the bar again, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited. It was rum and coke. How long did it take?
He froze when he felt a freshly manicured hand rest on his arm. He glanced at the contact, trying not to let the distaste show, but why was this girl touching him?
Since you left him in Monza, Pierre hadn’t even bothered looking at another girl. He’d go out with his friends and other drivers, but he’d always end up back at his hotel room alone. He no longer cared about the chase, he didn’t care about getting in a quick fuck.
If he was being honest, there were dozens of nights where Pierre hovered his thumb over your contact name, debating calling you after a long day. He wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just for a second, even if you didn’t answer and he was left with your voicemail, he just wanted to hear you.
But he never called. He didn’t text. Didn’t even like any of your photos on instagram, giving you the space that he knew you needed. Granted, you made it clear it was Lando you were trying to distance yourself from, but Pierre knew that trying to interfere while you were in the process of moving on wouldn’t be beneficial.
So he waited, in the hopes that you would call. Or text. Or like one of his fucking tweets, literally anything. Anything to show that you still cared. That you weren’t done because he certainly wasn’t.
No one compared to you, and Pierre had known that for a while, long before that night in the club.
Ever since Lando joined F1 and you showed up at his side, Pierre took an interest in you. In the beginning, he didn’t know what sort of relationship you and Lando had, so he kept things respectful so as to not cross a line.
But he could hear your laugh from halfway across the paddock and instantly recognize it. Your smile lit up whatever room you walked into and it wasn’t long before Pierre came to realise that he wanted to be the reason for it.
So he tried talking to you, but at that point, he already had a reputation. You were polite, sure, but you didn’t give him the time of day that he wanted and your attention always went back to Lando.
Pierre noticed it pretty quickly, how in love with him you were. He could never figure out why, he still couldn’t. You deserved someone better than Lando, someone who put you first in their life.
And even when you started to see that someone else could love you, that Pierre could possibly love you, you still went back to Lando.
Pierre should have accepted this as something that would always happen. He should have gotten over you and flirted with the girl next to him in an attempt to forget you ever existed.
But that just wasn’t possible. You had made too much of an impact on his life and left too large of a gap when you left.
“You seem lovely, but I’m really not looking for anything,” Pierre let this girl down gently, slowly peeling her fingers off of his arm. He turned his head forward before she could say anything else and it was only a second later when she hopped off the seat and walked away.
The bartender came and placed the drink in front of him, apologising for the wait. Pierre brushed it off, it was a busy night in this club. He reached for his wallet to pull out his card and start a tab, knowing he’d be here for the next little while.
But the bartender shook his head. He wasn’t about to take the payment.
Pierre chalked it up to him being recognized. Not that it happened often, but every now and then he’d get a meal comped or his drinks paid for if the employee or manager of the establishment was a fan.
“Thanks mate,” Pierre put his wallet away and grabbed the rum and coke.
The bartender only nodded his head towards the opposite end of the bar, “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”
Pierre’s smile dropped. If it was that blonde girl again trying another move he would feel bad because he’d just have to let her down a second time. Pierre took a sip of his drink before working up the courage to look towards the end of the bar.
But that blonde girl wasn’t there. In fact, no one on that side was even remotely paying him attention, all focused on their own drinks and conversations or trying to shout their orders to the bartenders.
Pierre didn’t let himself think too much about it.
Until he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder.
He sighed, “I already said I’m not looking for anything.”
Pierre turned around, fully expecting to come face to face with the girl from earlier. He was bracing himself for the tight dress, shy smile and long blonde hair.
What he didn’t expect was you.
Standing there wearing a baby pink long sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed off more cleavage than normal and a white skirt that sat high on your hips, giving you a very barbie-esque sort of feel, especially with the coloured heels to match. The lights from the club were flickering, highlighting the features that Pierre had burned into his mind. Your full lips, the small birthmarks you tried to hide with make up and your eyes that weren’t as important in colour as they were in the way that completely absorbed him.
You were standing right in front of him.
You glanced at the rum in coke in his hand, that familiar charming smile appearing on your lips as you darted your line of sight upwards to meet his own eyes.
“I owed you a drink,” you said, then you swallowed, eyebrows pinched together. “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember.”
It was a cute call back to that night in the club, the first time you had given him more than just a friendly smile. He charmed his way in that night, and the rejection from Lando made it all the much easier to agree to leave with him, but you were thankful the night didn’t end with the two of you tangled between the sheets.
A relationship started that night. It started the second Pierre bought the drink for you, knowing he’d have an excuse to approach you later. Neither of you could have predicted how the next few weeks would follow.
Now here you were, after avoiding him for two months. And Pierre wasn’t one who often found himself speechless, but there were no words in any language that could describe how he was feeling.
He wanted to be happy to see you. He wanted to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you like no one was watching.
But the fact that you were in Abu Dhabi and he wasn’t the one who invited you, the door creaked opened for more insecurities to slide in.
If you weren’t there because of Pierre, you were there because of Lando.
Two Weeks Earlier
You flipped through a manila folder, slowly spinning back and forth in your chair. Recently you’ve been dedicating more time to your job and it was a helpful distraction. Most of your coworkers knew you had connections in the F1 world, but none of them knew what was going on behind the scenes.
And because this motorsport series was so popular, you found yourself walking in on various conversations. Someone asked for your input on the Circuit of the Americas and you said about five words before changing the topic. Someone else asked what your thoughts were on the unexpected Alpine podium and you just shrugged and smiled, saying something along the lines of it was well deserved. When another coworker asked about an incident Lando faced during the qualifying session in Mexico, you said that it probably wouldn’t affect his race and then you pulled out your phone to tune out the rest of what was being said.
You couldn’t escape these drivers, you couldn’t run from this sport. The most you could do was at least try and avoid the conversations about them.
But when your coworker, Sam, walked by your desk at the end of a work day, he did a double take and knocked on your cubicle wall.
“Hi,” you glanced up from the documents in your hand. “Heading out?”
“Yeah, but I meant to ask-” Sam looked over your head at the row of windows on the opposite side of your work station. “Since when does Lando Norris let you borrow his cars?”
You scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“There’s a McLaren 720S outside,” Sam pointed out. “Isn’t that what he drives?”
“I don’t know what Lando drives but I can assure you, that man wouldn’t let me behind the wheel of any of his cars,” you spun to face your computer, wanting this conversation to be over. You wished no one knew you were friends with him.
Sam didn’t leave though. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You could hear the keyboard sound effects as he furiously typed away before shoving his phone in your face. It took you a second to understand what you were looking at, but on the small screen was an image of Lando next to a blue McLaren 720s, a huge smile on his face.
“What am I supposed to do with this information?” you looked up at Sam.
“It’s the exact same car that’s outside.”
“Well I didn’t drive it.”
Sam’s eyes widened, “Is he here? Is he picking you up from work? Do you think I could-”
“Okay slow down,” you laughed, trying to make light of this situation but internally you were panicking. Was Lando here? In London? “I’m sure he’s not the only one who owns-”
You couldn’t finish your sentence. Not when the man of the hour himself came walking around the corner, being escorted by two other employees who were undoubtedly fans. Why else would they have let him into the employees only area? Lando wore a baggy jumper, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around with wide eyes until he finally spotted you.
Sam’s jaw dropped and you understood why. You never tried to hide your friendship with the driver, but him showing up at your place of work was not something that ever happened. And you couldn’t understand why it was happening now.
Lando’s feet shuffled against the floor. He thanked the two employees for showing them where you sat, but they didn’t return to their work, they just hovered a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of them.
He nodded at Sam, offering him a smile as well and when Sam glanced your way you nodded your head for him to get the hint, hoping he’d give you at least a bit of privacy. Sam cleared his throat, still starstruck, but he walked away, joining the other employees who stood near the corner.
Lando stepped into your cubicle and leaned against the desk. You weren’t a fan of the height difference and you didn’t want to feel as though he was talking down to you, so you stood up from your chair. You leaned against the wall opposite of him, making sure to keep as much room between you as possible.
“This part of the gallery usually isn’t open to visitors,” you pointed out, not even bothering with an actual greeting. You didn’t like that he used his status to enter this side of the building.
“Look I said I was fine waiting for you to get off work and they just-” Lando glanced over his shoulder and at once, the three coworkers of yours all scurried off in their own directions. Lando sighed and looked at you again, “I needed to talk to you.”
It had been just over two months since you last spoke. Since you left Monza without giving him an explanation. Since you stood in his driver's room and said ‘this ends here’. You were firm with that statement.
Lando respected that, for the most part. He gave you space. He didn’t call or text, even though Max told you that there were a handful of times when he almost did and he had to physically force the phone out of Lando’s hands.
But he should have waited until you decided you were ready to reach out again. He had no reason for showing up at your place of work.
Now that he was here, you felt so unprepared. You didn’t know what to say to him, you didn’t know what he was going to say. Usually you worked your way up to any difficult conversations but Lando showing up out of the blue completely blindsided you.
I needed to talk to you, he said. You hated that. The word need. Lando always needed something from you. He took so much. Your energy, your time, your love, and never gave any of it back and you put up with it for way too long. He didn’t have the right to need anything from you anymore.
“This couldn’t have waited?” You asked, gesturing to the work space around you. “Better yet, you couldn’t have waited until I wanted to talk?”
“No, because I was starting to get the feeling that time would never come.”
“So instead of respecting the space I asked for, you decided that what you wanted took priority?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do you sort of see how that’s not fair? How it’s selfish? Or have you just not learned anything in my absence?”
“I learned you don’t need me,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if that conclusion was one he could just brush off, like it still hasn’t fully resonated with him.
But it was a true statement. Your silence said it all.
Lando nodded slowly, “So you don’t- you don’t miss me at all?”
That’s where you still conflicted.
You did miss Lando, there was no denying that. He was your best friend, you shared hundreds of memories with him and it did feel like something was missing in your life these last few months.
But you needed him gone to get over him.
Being in love with him took so much out of you. Knowing that he didn’t, and never would, love you back was something you needed to accept and grow from. Taking this step back, you realised just how much of yourself you dedicated to Lando and to his life.
So you kept taking those steps back until he was no longer within reach. You needed to keep putting the distance between yourself and him. You needed to be your own person. You couldn’t just be Lando’s best friend anymore. As much as he wanted that, it wasn’t doing you any favours.
“Of course I missed you,” you dropped your head, jaw tightening for a second. “But I don’t love you anymore, Lando.”
Again, Lando nodded. If you were looking up, you would have seen the way his features softened, making him look so much younger than he actually was. He always had a boyish charm to him and when he was hurt or unsettled, those young mannerisms in him jumped out.
“Sort of feels like a break up,” Lando forced a smile on his face, as if it made this any easier.
But he was right. This was, in a sense, your relationship coming to an end. There was a dull ache in your chest as it hit, but deep down you had known this was coming for a while. The conversation, the confrontation and eventually, the conclusion.
You once loved Lando. How could you not?
You once loved everything about him. From his different types of laughs to the way you could tell his smiles apart better than he could. You supported him for years, you were his rock and one point, you thought that he was yours.
But he was a crutch. Something you could learn to live without. Something you didn’t need, but was too scared to give up.
He would always be someone you cared about, but his place in your life meant something different now. More importantly, you took away his ability to crush your heart in his hands without so much as a second thought.
You both noticed a few employees sliding on their jackets and heading for the door. Lando ran a hand through his hair before glancing at his watch, “Did you want a ride home?”
“No, I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” you denied his offer, but you noticed the way his eyebrows momentarily raised. You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a date if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“No I-” Lando stammered over his words. “I mean, it’s natural to be curious. But you’re allowed- obviously you can date whoever-”
“Lando,” you cut him off before he could say something stupid. He instantly closed his mouth and let you speak. “I’m going to walk you out, okay?”
And that was that. You grabbed your jacket and turned off your monitor. Lando grabbed your bag for you and waited until your coat was on before handing it over. The two of you walked side by side towards the doors of the gallery, elbows brushing occasionally.
As you stepped outside, you were thankful that the silence wasn’t heavy. There was nothing left for you to say and Lando knew he couldn’t change your mind. Your friendship, while not completely destroyed, was certainly tainted. The space between you might become less distant over time, but it was permanent.
You could still watch the races and support him, but on your own accord, the way you decided to. There would be no more McLaren paddock passes. There would be no more hanging out in his motorhome, you would just be a friend who could cheer him on from afar.
Sure enough, Lando’s McLaren was parked outside. You walked with him towards the driver's side door, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he made no effort to get in or say goodbye.
He inhaled a heavy breath and you just knew whatever words were to follow weren’t going to be good.
“What if things were different?”
You had spent so much wondering about the what if’s that hearing Lando ask it now was almost humorous.
“That’s a dangerous game, Lando.”
He leaned against the side of his car, “What is?”
“Asking what if.”
Lando chuckled, dipping his head momentarily. “It’s a genuine question, though. What if things were different?”
“But they’re not,” that was all you could say. It was the truth you accepted and now it was his turn to accept it as well. “Things will never be different. You don’t love me, you never loved me and that’s all I wanted from you. I can’t hold that against you and in return I need you to be okay with me taking a step back from your life.”
There were so many thoughts travelling behind those bright eyes of his, you could tell he was trying to figure out which one to land on.
You made it easier for him, “Why did you come here?”
That seemed to catch him off guard, “What do you mean?”
“Well I know you didn’t come here to ask me what if things were different so why are you here? I mean, you have two races left. You’ve gone this far without me. If you’re trying to pull some sort of grand gesture, could you not have at least waited until the end of the season?”
Lando hesitated before answering you, thinking of the right words first before just opening his mouth, “I won’t lie, Y/N, I wanted to see how you were doing. I think part of me expected you to come back or reach out and when you didn’t-” he shrugged, he always shrugged. “I just wanted to check in. No grand gesture, don’t worry. I know where you stand, but I’m allowed to still care about you.”
A gust of wind hit your back, blowing a few strands of hair in front of your face. It was early November, not an ideal time of the year to be standing outside and having a conversation, but this might be the last opportunity you two had to air things out.
So you sucked it up and dealt with the cold, shoving your hands in your pockets and watching as Lando licked his lips. He also avoided your eye contact, something he only did when he was nervous.
“I also want to apologise.”
Your eyebrow twitched, “For what?”
This man definitely owed you a few apologies, but you didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next.
“Everything, really,” Lando laughed softly and it almost made you smile in response. You were only human, you could miss his laugh.
You nudged your foot against his, “I’m going to need a little more than that.”
He finally looked at you. There was a time when his grey eyes would have floored you, but not anymore. You were still standing.
“Everything,” Lando repeated, quieter this time. “For taking you for granted. Your friendship, your support, everything you gave me. For not appreciating you how I should have. For leading you on. For getting in the way of you and Pierre. For not loving you the way you wanted me to- I could go on, Y/N, but I need you to know I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”
Maybe he did learn something in your absence.
You didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could show your appreciation for his growth, for his ability to take responsibility and acknowledge what went wrong.
So instead of trying to rely on words, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Lando hesitated, unsure if he was even allowed to hug you back before slowly raising his arms and snaking them around your waist.
He knew this would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this.
You knew this would be the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be this close to him.
So there was no hurry to pull away. You could feel Lando’s heartbeat against his chest, his body heat pulling you in like a moth to a flame, his heavy breath as his face dipped right next to yours.
You held each other for a minute, maybe two. No more words were exchanged, but you and Lando had a bond that couldn't be described by anything the English dictionary had to offer.
Even in these uncertain times, you could count on his embrace to make the world around you freeze. You both had your own problems, your own reasons for needing space from each other but in his arms, they didn’t matter. You felt safe, comforted, this was the Lando that you had loved and it was hard to believe you weren’t going to have this anymore.
And then it was like Lando knew he had to be the one to let go. He had to be the one to release you, to stop giving you a reason to hold on.
He dropped his arms, both of you deciding not to speak about how painful this was, but your staggered inhale of a breath said it all. The way he sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck told you that this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for you.
For a brief second, you were almost crazy enough to apologise. It always hurt you to see Lando struggling, but your absence was something he was going to have to learn to live with. You didn’t need to apologise for it, for trying to better yourself.
“There is, actually, one more thing,” Lando suddenly said, reaching for the handle of the door, propping it open. You watched as the door to his luxury car swung upwards instead of out as Lando reached inside and grabbed an envelope. When he turned back around and handed it over, it was impossible to tell what it was.
Lando didn’t say anything as you opened it. His lips curled upwards when the realisation of what was inside slowly hit you.
“A Paddock pass,” you swallowed, recognising the lanyard.
“And plane tickets,” he added. “And a hotel booking. For Abu Dhabi.”
“The last race.”
“You should be there,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. His shoulders tensed, like he was suddenly debating if this was the best idea.
“Lando I can’t hang out in McLaren,” you sighed, wondering if the last five minutes of your conversation had already escaped him.
“No, you should be there for you,” Lando clarified. “You love the sport, Y/N, you’ve always attended the last race of the season. That shouldn’t change.”
You pulled the pass out of the envelope and twirled it around your fingers. The bright font of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix stood out along the black and you had to admit, it was a kind gesture, a selfless one for a change.
“You should be there,” Lando repeated. “And I’m not the only one who thinks that.”
Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked up at him again, dropping the pass into the envelope. “What do you mean?”
This man actually had the audacity to look at you like you were stupid.
“Oh come on Y/N,” a chuckle passed through his lips. “Pierre?”
You hesitated, “What about him?”
“He wants you there.”
“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”
“He still wants you there.” Lando shook his head, putting a stop to your doubts before they could creep up. “He’s just got more restraint than me and isn’t about to reach out or make you feel like you have to be there.”
You shrugged your shoulders. There was no question about it, you missed Pierre, but you were the one who ended things with him. You weren’t sure if you had the right to go back to him now and ask for a fresh start.
“Think about it, okay?” Lando extended his hand to give your arm an encouraging pat. He then made the move to get into his car and you took a step back to give him space. His eyes raked over you once more, probably wondering if this was the last time he would see you in the next little while, but he didn’t comment on it. He chose not to acknowledge it either, instead saying a quiet, “See you later,” and hoping those words would come true.
You had a few weeks to decide if you wanted to attend the last race of the season. You wanted to be strong and stay home. You nearly ripped the tickets up at one point, thinking it would make the decision easier, but everything was digital nowadays so it wasn't like that gesture mattered.
You wanted to watch the race. You wanted to cheer on your favourite drivers. You wanted to see Pierre.
And eventually it was your desire for all of those things that overpowered the distance you knew was better for you.
So you found yourself in Abu Dhabi that last weekend in November. You walked into the paddock when you knew the drivers would be busy with their teams and headed straight for the Paddock Club, choosing to watch the race from there. You kept your sunglasses on and made yourself as unapproachable as possible as you silently watched and rooted for the French driver.
When word got out of a few drivers heading to a specific nightclub, you knew that would be your chance to talk to Pierre. After the race and before he got drunk.
You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. Lando said he would want you to be there, but you still had your fears. You had called things off and there was no guarantee that he would want to pick things back up, that he would be so open to letting you back into his life.
When he ordered a drink, you saw it as an opportunity. When the bartender was near you, you quickly paid for Pierre’s rum and coke. He didn’t question it and neither did Pierre.
You walked around the side of the bartop, behind all of the other patrons and watched as Pierre tried to look for who had paid for his drink. You thought about saying his name to get his attention, you even thought about just walking away because was this really a good idea? But when his back was towards you, something in you pulled you forward, just enough so you could tap on his shoulder.
He turned around, wearing an expression you couldn't quite read. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“I owed you a drink,” you blurted out, thinking of the first night you finally decided to give him more than thirty seconds of your time.
Pierre had approached you in the bar and bought your drink, telling him that you could thank him later. His words were laced with dirty intent, and while you were nowhere near as charming as Pierre was, you still tried.
“Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember,” you quickly added.
Pierre was silent for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape. He certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and now he was speechless. There had been hundreds of things he wanted to say to you over the course of the last few weeks but for the life of him, none of them came to mind.
You had no choice but to take control of the conversation for a change, “It was a good race. Good job. A top ten finish, and you beat the McLarens that must-
“You watched?” Pierre asked. He hadn’t meant to cut you off but he was still trying to process that you were actually right there and now to find out you were also in the audience watching? He was about to implode.
“Of course,” you nodded. Someone tried to step past you so you moved closer to Pierre to make room. And it was like nothing had changed, Pierre raised his hand to rest on your waist, automatically feeling that urge to reach for you, to be touching you.
He quickly put the drink down on the bartop, he had no desire for it anymore. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was get drunk.
With his other hand free, Pierre raised it to cup the side of your face. He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your cheek. You were really there.
“Chérie,” he spoke so quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music playing from the speakers around you. But you watched his lips as he spoke, taking in every word, every breath. “You don’t know how bad I missed you.”
That was a weight lifted off your shoulders. Lando was right, Pierre did want you there.
And you could have said you missed him too. You could have laughed it off and teased him for it. You could have rolled your eyes, something he was all too familiar with seeing.
But instead of doing any of that, you grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and closed the last bit of space between you. You kissed him like you were making up for lost time, you basically were. Pierre’s hand slid to rest where your neck met your jaw and there was a desire to rush, to taste every bit of his tongue against yours, to let him intoxicate all of your senses, but Pierre’s moves were slow. He wanted to take his time, relish in this moment and to keep you in his grasp for as long as he could, until you were both desperate for a breath.
Pierre pressed another kiss to your lips, and then another, and another and then to your cheeks and your forehead and every visible spot on your face that he thought needed some attention. You giggled like a schoolgirl as his arm slipped around your neck, pulling you tight into his chest to hold you, hug you, feel you in his arms.
“I missed you,” Pierre said again, still quiet but there was no underlying ache in his tone. He missed you, but he didn’t have to anymore. You weren’t going anywhere.
Neither of you cared that you were sharing this embrace in the middle of the club, but other people certainly didn’t like it. When someone made a playful 'get a room' comment, Pierre laughed into your ear. God you never wanted to go two months without hearing his laughter ever again.
“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre suggested, placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your face up. He kissed you again, his hand slipping into yours before turning around, his eyes set on the door. You happily followed.
The club was crowded. You recognized a few paddock employees and members from various teams and of course the drivers who were out partying, but everyone was in their own little world as the two of you walked past.
Well…
Not everyone.
It happened so fast. You turned your head at the right second and caught Lando’s eyes from where he sat in a booth. Not only was he watching you, he was watching you leave with Pierre.
Someone walked in front of you, cutting off your line of sight for a brief moment. You felt Pierre’s grip on your hand tighten. Looking up, and saw that Pierre was staring straight ahead. If he noticed Lando, he didn’t hint towards it.
Glancing back at Lando one last time, you watched as he lifted the drink in his hand and nodded once, a toast-like gesture, but in this case it was so much more than a little congratulatory one-sided cheers.
He released his final hold over you. There were no more strings tying you to Lando. He wasn’t going to get in between you and Pierre. He was going to let you be happy with the French driver.
Lando would still continue to want what was best for you, but that wasn’t him anymore. That was Pierre.
So he watched as a sliver of a smile appeared on your lips, so quick he almost missed it, before following Pierre outside. You were gone.
Feeling a nudge on his arm, Lando turned his head and met the concerned eyes of Max. Max, someone who had been a witness to everything these last few months, was definitely happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
“You alright?” Max asked him and Lando just nodded, glancing at the spot you just abandoned.
“Yeah,” he didn’t sound very convincing, but Max knew that eventually he’d say it and mean it.
He brought his drink up to his lips, “I guess the best man won.”
Lando rolled his eyes, shoving Max with his elbow. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough that he spilled his beer over the front of his shirt.
“It was never a competition you numbskull.”
Max plastered his best dumbfounded look on his face, “Oh, you mean Y/N? I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the driver standings.”
Lando snorted, knowing that Max was most definitely not talking about the driver standings, but it was a good retort to fall back on. Pierre had beat him in the last two races, putting him ahead of the two McLaren drivers in the championship.
Lando put up a good fight throughout the season but towards the end he managed to come to the realisation that no matter what, he wouldn’t pull ahead. Beating Pierre wasn’t in his cards.
Neither was keeping you.
But not all hope was lost. Lando would fight even harder next year. This year’s competition made him a better driver. And motorsport aside, he knew he’d still see you around. At a distance, only in passing, and most likely with Pierre, but you’d be there.
Losing you forced him to grow up. He had no choice but to better himself, and he would.
The what if’s would continue to haunt him, they would haunt all of you. The ghosts of what could have been. The paths you never took. What if Pierre hadn’t hit on you that night in the club? What if Lando spoke to you the morning after? What if you spent the summer break alone? What if what if what if.
The thing was, though, none of it mattered.
You were happy. Lando would learn to live without you. Pierre played the long game and it worked out in his favour. The lingering questions didn’t matter. The only thing left to do was look ahead. The past held nothing, whereas your future, all of your futures, were brighter and better than they had ever been before.
why am i crying lmao
and with that, the better series comes to an end :') thank you everyone for reading and for sharing your thoughts and being so invested in their silly little lives.
i will most definitely be writing another mini series, and if you have ideas or see something on my prompt list, pls send me a request here! i can't promise it'll turn into a 7-part fic but i do love getting requests and who knows?? maybe i'll write a lando fic and turn u all back into lando girlies??
love u all so much and for the record, i was always team pierre
#pierre gasly x you#pierre gasly fanfic#pierre gasly x reader#pierre gasly x y/n#pierre gasly#lando norris one shot#lando norris social media au#lando norris au#lando norris#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 one shot#f1 requests#f1 au#formula 1#holllandtrash
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A Day at the Track
Damn that smile. That adorable, sexy smile. One flash of it and I was hooked. I never knew what that innocent little smirk would have in store for me. Not that I didn’t enjoy every last minute of what came after. It would change me forever. Quite literally.
I’ll be the first to say that I wasn’t ever interested in motocross. But when opportunity knocks, you take the first chance you can get. So when I was offered a summer gig working at the track, I sniped it as quick as I could. It was just something until I could get a decent job, anyway. The track was loud, beat up, filled with white trash people and mosh pits. It was not my type of crowd, but it paid well at 11.50/hr. All I had to do was pretty much do whatever the rider asked me to do. I had worked there for three months, and worked with 15 riders before I was offered a job as the office manager at a tax place downtown. No more shitty racetrack job.
I put in my notice, and went to what I thought would be my last rider. That’s when I met Cash. That’s right, the Cash Rockford. As in the 6-time champion motocross rider. He was 22 years old, cocky as all hell, and plowed everything in sight; even the competition. It didn’t take me long to realize just how cocky Cash was, all I had to do was walk into his tent.
He was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean I didn’t see him. Posters of himself were plastered all over the canvas walls. A stack of autographed pictures sat on a table, next to all six of his top prize awards. Hawkstone. Hangtown. The biggest and most dangerous competitions in the Motocross world. As I looked around the empty tent, two white gloved hands covered my mouth and wrapped around my stomach.
“Guess who?” I felt hot breath on the back of my neck, sending goosebumps all down my spine. I pulled free, and spun around to see Cash, alive and looking rather beaten up after his first race, which I imagine he won. Fuck he was cute, I knew he was a complete asshat, but the sight of him sure made me stir a bit. “Whassup, brother?” He walked past me, tossing his helmet to the side, and laying down on his cot.
“Sorry I missed your first race, did you find everything okay?” I offered him a water bottle, which he gladly took, downing it in one try. He tossed the bottle to the side, and let out a huge belch.
“Yeah, man. Kind of a smaller tent than I’m used to.” He shifted a bit, before patting the seat next to him. “Here, sit down bro.” None of the other riders had ever extended an offer to sit down. It was unusual, but i didn’t want him to give grief to my boss. I’d hear about it, and I really wanted to keep him as a reference, so I obliged and sat down on the cot. The minute my butt touched the fabric, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to a laying position right beside him. “Dude, relax. Take a load off.” I was uncomfortable, but secretly turned on by how aggressive he was. This guy knew exactly what he wanted, and made it happen. “So, listen. I know you’ve heard of me, so, yeah. It’s all good, I’ll give you an autograph or whatever. But gimme a second, I just gotta lay around for a minute.” He put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, probably waiting for me to praise and worship him.
“I don’t actually know you. I don’t watch motocross.” He shot up and raised an eyebrow at me, clearly intrigued.
“Really? This is a first. You never got interested in the thrill of the bike?” I shook my head. “Never wanted to wear the helmet and leathers? Never wanted to get all the redneck babes you could handle? Never wanted to make shit tons of money for riding on pure adrenaline?” Well, when he put it that way, it did sound rather interesting. I guess it could be pretty fun. I didn’t have much time to reflect, though, before he pinned me down, and straddled me with a playful grin on that adorable cocky face. “Tell ya what, I’ll give ya a taste. If you like it, we can ride together. I need a partner for the sidecar race anyway.” I could do nothing but nod, completely taken in by the situation at hand.
Cash grabbed my throat, lightly choking me, and came real close to me. I felt that hot breath again, now on my ear, before he bit at the lobe ever so slightly. It was then that I began to smell his scent. He doused himself in Old Spice, that really good smelling island type, and beneath it all was the intense, sweaty musk that comes out of a hard race in the summer heat. He smelled like no one I’d ever encountered. It was intoxicating. He let go of my neck only to rip off his white gloves, and unzip his leathers. His body glistened with sweat, beads trailing down his smooth, lean body. He kicked his boots off, and straddled me with only his black underwear on.
“C’mon boy. I know you like it.” He ripped my shirt from my body, as I kicked off my pants. He began to lean in, and went straight for the kill. I felt his wet, sticky skin touch mine, and his silky lips locked with mine. Grinding his damp briefs against my raging boner, and literally sucking my tongue out of my mouth, precum began to seep out of my stretched boxers.
We made out for what felt like hours, before I felt completely covered in his sexy, musky sweat. He may have had the Old Spice to cover up the smell, but I had nothing of the kind. I smelled like a wet dog, I’m sure, but I loved every minute of it. He suddenly broke our session, and sat up straight. He slowly slid off his boxers, revealing his hard, uncut cock. He grasped it and ran his tip over the sweaty appendage.
“Hey, I always had this thing for guys putting my gear on…” He leaned over and grabbed his helmet, and handed it to me. “Put it on, babe.” I did as I was ordered, and placed the helmet onto my head. I thought he smelled, but I hadn’t tried on his helmet. It stunk to high hell of sweat. It was 91 degrees out that day, so it was sopping wet with his perspiration. “Yeah, that’s so hot, babe.” He began to rub his bubble butt against my throbbing member, while his fingers twisted my nipples. He was a damn good fuck… “Put the suit on.” He ordered, and I obliged.
He rolled off me for the time being, but began to run his hands down my treasure trail, before slipping under my waistband. I gasped as I felt his slick hands touch my cock, sliding up and down beneath my pre-soaked briefs. I grabbed the suit, and as smoothly as I could, slid my feet into the legs. The heavy, wet fabric stuck to my skin as my feet and legs slid into it, before my feet poked out the ends. I pulled up the suit and slipped my arms into the sleeves, coating them in a thick smear of slimy sweat.
“Oh fuck yeah, babe. That’s so fuckin hot. You like wearing my sweaty, stinky leathers?” I nodded, gasping and moaning from his hands pumping my delicate cock. “You like how leathers feel, don’t ya?” I nodded again, inhaling a deep whiff of the musky helmet. He grabbed his boots from the floor, and slid them on my bare feet. They were still hot, damp from his rank, dirty feet. “Yeah, you like that. You like feelin’ like this.” I felt surges of energy throughout me, like I drank four energy drinks and an espresso. I was ravenous, and every passing moment I got more ravenous. He slid my underwear off from inside the unzipped suit, and began sucking. I instinctively picked up the gloves from beside me and slipped them on, my hands feeling every ounce of his fluids and essence coating me.
To the outside world, I looked like Cash Rockford. A guy in bike leathers getting his cock sucked by some hot person. I began to feel like Cash Rockford, with confidence and cockiness swelling up inside me. I grasped the back of his head and began to thrust it down, spearing it on my engorged cock. I began to think like Cash Rockford, enjoying the rush of adrenaline, enjoying the pleasure of my wet dick in a mouth. I loved it. I loved all of it. I thought of riding my bike up the steep jumps and curved banks. Feeling the sweat pour down my brow as the sun bears down on my airborne body.
The pleasure of this revelation became too much, and I shot the biggest load of my life down Cash’s throat. I howled like a wolf, deep and guttural, the sound ringing in my head. Cash looked up at me, and gasped for breath before zipping the suit up, and straddling me once more.
“There, babe. You don’t have to dream it anymore. Just do it.” He ripped the helmet from me, revealing my new sexy face. My chiseled jawline, low brows, and plump lips were enough to make any woman or man jizz upon sight. He ran his hands down my thick, muscled body, hidden under his dirt-stained leathers. I smirked and grabbed his cum-covered face and dragged it into a kiss, thankful for my new life.
These days I spend most of my time with him on the road. We compete in sidecar competitions, and even against eachother every once in a while. He may not admit it, but I’m gettin’ to be just as good as he is. I love the bike. I love the thrill. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
#male transformation#body transformation#jockification#original#transformation#musk#musky#feet#gay transformation#male tf#leathers transformation#motocross transformation#motocross#biker tf
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