#THE IMPLICATIONS..!.;THE IMPLICATIONS OF IT ALL..!.!!!
Text
🎾 - #LOVE ON THE FLOOR !!
cw: unrealistic public sex on a tennis court 💀 (it’s nighttime and no one else is there), college era, afab reader, gross friends to lovers, strip tennis, soft dom!art x inexperienced!reader, vaginal fingering + titfucking + brief analingus (afab reader receiving), implied (soft) obsession & toxicity like art would marry you tomorrow, teasing (towards reader), nipple sucking (m receiving), art putting in overtime to hit on oblivious!reader, reader is so comically unaware pls just roll with it and suspend your disbelief, mandatory Patrick™️ mention, 3.5k of pure need, art’s so horny in this like 😔 (+subtle implications of him either being a manwhore or a porn addict, as a little treat), lowkey canon typical mind games, unedited
this was requested by a bot looking blog that i had to block but the idea still slapped! combined with an ask for inexperienced reader
Art Donaldson sees your instagram story that’s only a repost of a Ethel Cain song and tries not to click his heels together. It’s not like he’s happy you’re clearly going through something, but if the story is a result of what he thinks it’s a result of… then he’ll comfort you through it however he can. With his words, his tongue, babying you in the bath and washing your hair, etc. Just getting to be intimate with you at all is an opportunity he’d never turn down.
Suddenly you’re bursting into Art’s dorm like a bat out of hell, tears dotting your waterline and lower lip wobbling. His heart lurches and leaps in equal measures, his backwards cap feels like it constricts around his head as he resists the urge to fidget with it.
“He… he didn’t show up!”
Art shoots up and gets off his bed, rushing to you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “What are you talking about?”
He gives you a lingering hug and passes you some of your favorite fast food that he always keeps in the little fridge in his dorm. Somehow knowing that it’d be just what the doctor ordered, you’re so lucky to have such a caring friend. You two haven’t left each other’s side since you bumped him on the first day of class, bringing a clice to life by spilling your coffee all over his polo. Sometimes you still lie awake at night and cringe at yourself, trying to assure yourself that he’s stuck around your awkward ass for a reason.
You’re hiccuping through your story while munching on your chicken sandwich, “Mark acted so exicted yesterday, and now he’s stood me up. I waited in front of the café for an hour, people were staring…”
Art eyes you from his position on the bed, crowding against you due to the size and having half of his torso glued to your back. He doesn’t giggle at the adorable way you get frustrated when the pickle in your sandwich always slides out in between your teeth during a bite, but he thought about it! He reaches up and brushes his fingers against your hair, wanting to just touch it more than move it.
“I don’t know what to tell you, he’s an idiot and you’ll move on. It’s not like he’s the only person in the world.” He grumbles, not quite pouting as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.
“Okay now you’re just grumpy because I beat you at uno.” You tease, gesturing to the scattered pile of brightly colored cards on the bed.
He’s definitely made you feel better though, he always does. You both finish your food and Art stands up from the bed to grab his tennis bag. He pulls you up too and winks, saying that you can’t beat him at everything. You ask what he’s doing and he only grins, telling you to come with him. You nervously glance around as you’re pulled to race through the halls to the court. There’s a simmering feeling weaving in and out of your tightly intertwined fingers.
divider
Art lets go of your hand to drop his bag on the ground, leaving your palm feeling strangely cold without his warmth.
You’re still not sure you should even be out here, you know that you’re definitely not allowed but Art seems to sense your hesitation because he rushes towards you and cups your hands in his.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble or anything, y’know that?” He chuckles, gently knocking the tip of his nose against yours. “Look up for me, the moon’s really pretty tonight.”
You follow his lead and tilt your head back to gaze up at the goregous crescent moon high in the oil colored sky. You don’t notice that he’s looking at you instead, that he doesn’t say that the moon reminds him of you but he feels like the one orbiting around you instead of the other way around. Luckily there’s not a cloud in sight, just a floating city of stars with a glowing center. Art lightly pulls on your wrists, clearly wanting your attention back on him, so you comply.
You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you don’t miss the odd glint in his eyes as he narrows them slightly.
His eyelids crinkle as he smiles charmingly, “Don’t you trust me?”
You answer with your heart, “Yes, of course I do.”
He beams at you and explains the rule of the game he dragged you all the way out here to play. It’s just like a regular game of tennis so you really shouldn’t sweat it, he says. His expression shifts when he makes a show out of being unable to look you in the eye when he tells you the special rules, knowing full well you can see him try to tamper down a self satisfied laugh. Whoever scores gets to pick whatever piece of clothing the other takes off, and the loser of the game has to get completely naked if they aren’t already.
Your cheeks warm and you gawk at him, “Isn’t it weird that you’ll see me… like that?”
“So you already know you’re gonna lose, huh? And it’s not like i haven’t seen most of it before.” Art laughs, not bothering to hide the blush on his face. “You’ve seen all of me, anyway.”
It’s true, you usually laze around in nothing but your underwear and that’s been the norm for you two. Art’s no different, he’ll change in front of you and will literally walk around butt naked around your dorm. More often than not, he’ll answer the door in only a towel around his waist and sitting on his hip bones, no matter if it’s one of your other friends or a project partner. You're constantly having to text the other because you forgot that you left your toothbrush behind. You’ve never had a chance to be embarrassed by it. It’s been like that for the longest time and anytime you’ll tell Art that your friends keep asking if he’s your boyfriend, he’ll just reassure you that you guys are just really close. And isn’t that a good thing?
“Besides, I think this’ll help get you out of your shell.”
You’re embarrassed at the reminder of how inexperienced you are. Sure, you shouldn’t have a whole thing about it or whatever, but it just is kind of alienating from other people your age to not be able to say you’ve done what they’ve done. And you would’ve been able to have some stories of your own if you could manage to hold down a date. But tonight isn’t supposed to be about you wallowing, you’re supposed to be having fun. Even if the sight of your best friend in tight fitting sporty clothes makes your pussy throb.
divider
You giggle nervously when he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, swaying you from side to side before moving his grip up to your arms.
“Relax, i’m just checking your form. Being close to you is just a bonus.” He winks and presses his stomach up against your back.
It’s so cheesy, the situation and the pose. But you lean into his touch and pretend to care about how he’s showing you the right way to hold a racket and all that, he doesn’t even really care if he’s being honest. It’s romantic though, and he can’t resist the opportunity to get a taste of what it’d be like to pin your body down with his weight. He guides you through a few “practice” swings and then throws a two finger salute at you as he jogs around the net to his side of the court.
It’s your serve, and despite you being very much a beginner, you get the first point.
Art stands there expectantly, cocking his head to the side and bouncing on his heels in anticipation. You honestly didn’t consider that you’d actually be telling your best friend to take off his clothes for you, but you’re new thing is taking shit in stride, you guess.
“So, what’s it gonna be?” He shouts and hovers his fingers around the collar of his polo, ready for you to say the word.
You take the coward’s way out, “Your shoes.”
Art frowns but obeys the rules, swiftly unlacing his sneakers and tossing them to the side. The court’s not so rough that it’d be hell on his feet, but he’d do it for you even if it was all a bunch of jagged rocks cobbled together. The game goes on with Art scoring the next point, and then the one after that. He has you discard your necklace, one of those cheesy half heart ones that matches with one he has, and your shoes as well. He doesn’t wanna scare you off, but he knows what he wants to have you take off for him.
You score the next time, down goes his pants. Without them, few things are left to the imagination. Every time he’d walk around you naked you’d always keep your face firmly glued to your phone or something. But being faced with the very… detailed outline of his bulge through his underwear, that’s another thing entirely. It looks so long against his thigh it might as well be a third leg. There’s already a little wet spot where the tip must be.
You must’ve been taking too long to ogle him, because Art yells at you to “Focus on the game, yeah?”
You’re lucky it’s not a cold night when he gets the next point and has you take off your pants, which are really just glorified shorts. You unfasten them and shimmy them down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles and kicking them away from you. You haven’t shaved today, but you know that Art doesn’t care about that sort of thing. He’s made sure to tell you as much many times when you complain about how much your back hurts after you get done with it.
Art takes his sweet time dragging his gaze down your legs, already imagining bringing them around his waist or over his shoulders. Your panties are so cute too, cupping your pussy so closely that he can see the shapes of your puffy lips from all the way on the other side of the court, a “camel toe” or whatever you call it. He thinks it’s so hot, but you’re shy about it, asking him to see how you look in jeans that are a size too small. He always does a thorough inspection.
Whoever scores next wins the game, and you’re too busy trying not to fall on your ass to put any effort into it. It’s not a real game away, and besides, it’s not like anything has to happen when the loser completely undresses. Out of the corner of your eye you see Art’s dick twitch in his briefs and you get so distracted that you freeze and miss the neon yellow-green ball hurtling past you. Art whoops and cheers as you process the fact that you lost.
“You know what that means.” Art grins from ear to ear. “Make a show out of it for me.”
divider
You don’t even mind the staring, it’s such a common thing that you’d be more pissed off if he wasn’t looking at you at all. The way his eyes devour every inch of bare skin and drop of sweat that you earned during the game. You pull your tank top up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Your bra isn’t a frilly thing, you wear it mainly for support, but Art can’t seem to tear himself away from the view of your pushed up tits rising and falling as you breathe.
You…. don’t know what to do now, the big appeal of the game is over, you awkwardly laugh it off and bend over to pick up your clothes. Art shakes his head to snap himself out of his horny fever dream and races over to you, latching onto your wrist and stopping you from getting dressed again.
“You’re supposed to take it all off, remember?”
You drop your clothes, noticing that he still doesn’t let you go.
Heats fills your cheeks as he steps closer, delicately sliding his fingertips up the inside of your arm and around your back. He plays with the hook of your bra, gazing down at you with a look full to brim with unknown intent and purpose. He doesn’t do something as bold as unlatching it right out the gate, no, he just stares into your soul.
“I remember.” Your eyes drop down to his lips, and that’s when you know it’s over. “Can’t exactly do it myself if you’ve already got one foot in the door.”
You’ve gotta know when to fold ‘em, and all that.
Art softly smiles and loops his fingers under your bra strap. You have to remind yourself to breathe, but you don’t really get much of a chance to. Before you can stop yourself and think with your head, you’re canting up to press your lips to his. Art immediately kisses you back, chuckling into the kiss when you gasp as he expertly unhooks your bra with one hand.
In the blink of an eye, you’re flat on your back on the court, Art having hastily thrown his shirt under you while you were tangling your tongues together. He presses an array of wet open mouthed kisses down your body, paying extra special attention to the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your mound.
“Smells so good, ‘s cute, too. It figures you’d have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He coos, dragging a lone finger down your slit before gently pushing it inside.
You gasp, wrenching your eyes shut tight at the intrusion. He takes good care of you, slowly sinking his finger in to the knuckle and sliding it in and out of you. He gradually adds more fingers as the minutes pass. Your walls throb around him, and if Art were a weaker man (like the guy you almost went out with) he would’ve said fuck it and plunged his dick into your cunt in one smooth stroke. But you deserve the best first time possible, and all the distractions he’s used have helped him be patient enough to refrain from humping you like a dog.
“You’re okay, you can take it. It’s nothing compared to what this pussy’s going to be taking later anyway, baby.” He hums and nuzzles his nose into where your inner thigh meets your mound.
As he’s languidly thrusting his fingers into your puffy pussy, Art strains his neck to lap at your ass. He holds one of your fat cheeks in his free hand and spreads you open, diving in to suck on the puckered hole between them. He sharpens his tongue and jabs it into your ass, his cock throbs when you let out the sweetest little squeals at the squelching and throaty noises he’s making. He can feel your hole unfurling with every slurp and suck, something that only makes him increase the speed of his long fingers in your pussy, maintaining a breathtaking steady rhythm.
Eventually his poor leaking cock can’t take anymore grinding into the ground, so Art crooks his fingers and (albeit a bit cruelly) jams them into your sweet spot. The velvet grip of your pussy strangles his digits like a dream, you’d take dick so beautifully. Your eyes fly open and your throat spasms around a mangled moan. He pulls his fingers out of your soaking wet pussy, smirking up at you as he sucks them try like a professionally trained whore. Your clit receives a loving kitten lick as an apology for neglecting it, and with that Art hovers over you at an even eye to eye level again.
“Holy shit…” You pant and flick his pebbled nipples, absentmindedly rolling them around with your thumb. “Are we really doing this?”
“Yeah, we are.” Art sighs, his head falls back as you duck down to suck his nipples into your mouth, the saliva you lathered them with dripping down your chin. He grabs the back of your head and pushes your face into his chest, arching his back.
“Relax, I bribed security and told them to fuck off for the night.”
That doesn’t concern you as much as it should, you’re too transfixed on Art wrenching your mouth off of his pecs and moving to straddle your chest.
“Can you push them together for me?” He breathes hard and grinds his weeping cock against your tits, mesmerized by how his precum makes your skin glisten.
“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you do, making quick use out of the delicious new friction the little pocket provides. “Thanks, honey.”
You keep staring at the tip of his dick, loving the little peek you get of it as he fucks your tits and it pokes your chin. You don’t even realize you’re doing it but you let your mouth hang open, angling your head down so his cockhead pecks your tongue at the end of every thrust. You make sure to lick every drop of pre cum away as it oozes out of him, looking so nice against the flushed pink skin of his tip. Art groans when he finally summons the strength to watch you do it, the sight hurtling him over the edge before he has the time or vocal ability to warn you.
His thick load jets out to land all over your tits, half of it on the lower half of your face. You’re almost sad it didn’t get high enough to clump your lashes together, it would’ve made for the perfect contact picture. Oh well, maybe next time. It’s amazing, the switch you’ve made from the shy friend to the writhing slut underneath him. You blame it on the honest to God sweet taste of his milky white cum, surprisingly making you think of the pineapples he always snatches from your plate when you eat at school together.
(Another painstaking effort made just for you, love)
It’s a miracle you get back to his dorm, some of your clothes are swapped and put on incorrectly and you both didn’t clean up at all. As soon as you reach the door, Art practically shoves you inside and onto the bed. He gets so frustrated with having to get your clothes off again that he just rips them right off of you, promising to take you to the mall tomorrow (or whenever he lets you leave the bed) to buy replacements. You literally couldn't care less if he shackles you to the wall, you need him to rearrange your guts so badly, you’d kill for it. Should you be having deep conversations about your feelings and what the future will look like? Absolutely, but your clit is clouding your sense of rationality and you don’t mind that right now.
“Do you even know how much i’ve wanted this? To fuck you so hard that we end up attached at the hip?” He bites, breaking away from your lips to suck bruises down the column of your throat. “We can have a baby- please have my baby, fuck!”
There’s something so weirdly romantic about the leftover scent of the court combined with the twinkling stars outside. Art’s moans and hands scrambling to pin you down so all you have to do is take it, you’re doing things all out of order, but this was always going to happen sooner or later. Art is a clumsy manipulator but he’s so handsome… you find yourself agreeing to every frantic declaration flying out of his mouth as he spears his long cock into your sopping wet pussy. You claw red lines into his shoulders and back, and Art nearly creams on the spot. The sting and the fact that you’re so out of it, you’re marking him up, are crossing the wires in his brain. His taut thighs burn with the effort of fucking you so far into the mattress.
You’ll get to cum four more times than he does, and by the end of it you’ll wish you never came at all. Your soul’s goikg to be so far away from your ruined mess of limbs that you won’t notice the sacred promises being muttered into your sweaty hair or pay attention to your phone being out on Do Not Disturb. You’ll be right where you should be, inevitably molded around the shape of his dick and branded by all the love bites that litter your body. You’ll think you passed out during most of them, but you’ll give him a loopy smile, hook your pinky around his, and let yourself melt away.
It feels as if your walls are still clenching around a dick that’s no longer buried to the hilt in them.
“I love you”’s are for early mornings with coffee and pancakes. Gloating to Patrick will be for hours before then, Art blocking him when you’re deep asleep and unable to mend the growing rift between them.
#sorry i made another fictional man weird 😔#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers#challengers fanfiction#challengers smut#challengers fic#challengers film#challengers movie#challengers 2024#challengers x you#art donaldson x you#art donaldson challengers#mike faist x you#mike faist x reader#mike faist smut#mike faist#mike faist challengers#⚰️.deaddove#challengers imagine#art donaldson fic#art donaldson imagine
806 notes
·
View notes
Text
champagne coast — LN4
pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, semi-public, swearing, alcohol, sexual innuendo, not proofread and rushed ending!!
synopsis: lando finally won his race, there’s only one way to celebrate [2.4k]
a/n: the ending was so so bad these exams have been kicking my ass :/
"stop staring and pick a shirt." you looked back at him in the mirror, fixing the smudged lipstick lando had been the cause of.
"can't help myself when you look that pretty."
lando almost looked proud of himself at his reply, yet you could only give a drawn out groan in response. "stop being cheesy and get dressed. we're leaving in 10 minutes." he rolled his eyes before getting up, ultimately choosing the white linen shirt you had left out. "we're celebrating you, remember."
the cuffs were rolled up to just below his elbow, lando had a gift of somehow making ever outfit make him even more attractive to you, and tonight was no different. you just wanted to throw him back against the bed, fuck your friends waiting for the pair of you to meet them, and have him all to yourself for the night.
unfortunately, that wasn't the case and it was now you being called out for your shameless staring, a boyish smile on his face as his curls framed his forehead. you ignore him though, giving yourself another once over in the mirror, letting your eyes fall to landos just barely taller frame behind you, his hands finding your hips and lips just grazing over your neck.
he pressed a kiss against your pulse point, taking in the smell of the perfume he'd bought you for your birthday, the same one he'd been buying you for years. so much so that he now associated anything even similar in scent to you, driving him crazy from the first time you wore it.
"no, no, we need to go." you almost gave into his advances, ready to ditch the plans made, before finally you came to your senses, knocking him back off of you and reaching for your heels. "you better behave tonight."
it was an empty threat, and you both knew it.
the club was busy, probably the most packed you had ever seen it, buzzing with young drunks ready to celebrate the race result with their friends and a one night stand they'd regret in the morning, drivers joined them, alone or with their partners to congratulate the young brit on his first victory. it was nice though, coloured lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. the smell of alcohol flowed through the air like it did in the veins of the people there. the heat almost bound you together, sweat coating bodies as they danced against one another, drinks in hand to refresh their never ending thirst.
lando is just behind you, a hand on the small of your back when he spots a few of the other drivers and their girlfriends, directing you over to them and you move, heels already killing your feet and you knew it would be a sore night.
"thought you'd never show up." max sniggers, the boys giving lando a knowing look that had your face going hot, the girls not sparing you one either, kelly laughing at the way you blushed at the implication. they all knew how you and him were, in the honeymoon phase still despite the years of dating.
"blame him, took him about an hour to choose a shirt." you're quick to pass the blame, sitting next to one of the girls you're closest with as she makes space for you and the brit. you eye up her drink, the blue shade piquing your interest. "what are we drinking then?"
she lets out a giggle, passing you a straw and letting you have a taste of it. before you can ask lando to get you one when he goes to the bar, max and carlos are sat back at the table, a tray of shots each. half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear.
everyone plucks shots from the table, you play it safe though. taking a clear one first, you cheers it to the table, grimacing at the burn when you throw your head back, the liquid flowing down your throat, you make a face at the strength, recognising it as vodka.
your eyes follow lando as he lifts the golden coloured shot from the tray. he brings the small glass to his lips, and you can still feel the way they felt on your neck just half an hour ago, the jut of his jaw, and how the stubble would cause an itching sensation against your cheek, leaving pink marks in its wake as he kissed you. it's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it's water. "patrón." he groans.
"you two have lots of catching up to do." they're quick to remind you, some of them even three, four, drinks deep meanwhile you and lando had had one shot each, although he'd been drinking champagne since his win earlier in the day, tipsier than you already.
you could feel the music thumping through your body, the humid air already getting to you, standing in the line for the bar, with lando just behind you. his hands rarely left your hips, sometimes he dared to move them just lower to the hem of your dress when you swatted them away, reminding him to behave.
you weren't afraid of lando touching you in public, everything he was doing his friends had seen before, but tonight he was feeling more dangerous, maybe it was the adrenaline of his first win, or maybe he was just really fucking needy for you.
his one-day stubble scratches your soft cheeks, when he presses a kiss there, almost an invasion for more. although your annoyed at him for smudging even more of your makeup, it doesn't last long when he places a drink in your hand. no matter how much time you spend on yourself, he always ruins you. your makeup, your clothes, covering your whole body in hickies and marks. simply because you're his, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't do the same to him.
he tests his luck, the hand at the bottom of your dress finding it way under and squeezing the soft skin of your arse, and you gasp before turning go face him. "behave." you warn him, but ultimately it goes in one ear and out the other, his eyes zeroing in on your lips as he innocently pecks them.
"thought we were celebrating me?" he parrots your earlier words, lips so close to yours you can feel them moving against yours, you can taste the fruity cocktail he's been drinking. "you gonna let me celebrate with you?"
you're nodding your head before you even realise. drink being abandoned on the table before you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, kelly and alex offering to come with you before you shut then down, passing a worried glance in lando's direction but he only encouraged with a smirk.
you were gone more than five minutes before they got worried about you. "the lines probably long, i'll go check on her, keep her compancy." lando offered, the group either too drunk to care or not wanting to say anything out loud.
that was how you found yourself now, lando's lips on your necks, red marks turning purple in the aftermath, your small gasps and whines echoing off of the tiled bathroom walls. you couldn't take your hands off of him, trailing up his toned stomach, the way his muscles tensed under your touch had you wanting him even more.
you weren't sure wether it was the high of his win that was making him look even more attractive than usual or the heat was getting to you but he just looked so fuckable in that moment you didn't want to let him go.
threading your fingers through his hair you felt his groan against your neck, he'd been freeing his curls more and more each day not doing well to help your obsession with pulling on the strands. "lando-" a breathy moan falling from your lips in the sound of his name.
you'd managed to finally get him away from your neck, hands cradling his face as your thumb swiped across his cheek, slotting your lips over his as your back pressed against the sink counter. lando's hands wandered your body as if for the first time, leaving no part of your exposed skin untouched, pawing at the clothes he'd commented on earlier for being too small and now he thought you had too much on. "you gonna let me reward you for being my lucky charm, hm?" his hand ran down the side of your cheek, taunting you, a mocking tone to his words as his eyes stared into yours.
"please, lando." your voice was just above a whisper, shame seeping into your words, the realisation that your friends, his colleagues, were just outside and could interrupt at any moment, hear you at any moment, they could get worried about how long you were taking and try and come find you.
"you're gonna need to be real quiet, okay?" the pads of his fingers rubbed circles against your hips bone, lifting you up onto the counter, your back pressed against the cool glass, heading falling back and exposing your neck to him again, goosebumps raising on your legs as the bottom of your dressed had already bunched up below your waist.
the belt from his trousers was quickly undone, pulling them down enough to free himself, tip already leaking pre-cum, begging for you to touch him. your hand wrapped around him, squeezing lightly as you worked your wrist feeling him harden underneath you.
you whined as he pulled your hand away, pressing a small kiss to the palm. "fuckin' love your hand, but i wanna come inside of you." he groaned, watching the way you dropped your feet back onto the bar floor, turning your body so your eyes met his on the mirror and teasingly arched your back against his front.
there was something about the way he towered over you when you were bent down that turned you on like nothing else, knowing he could manhandle your body like a rag doll if he wanted to, fuck you like you wanted him to. your hand dipped between your own thighs, rubbing circles over your clit as your eyes closed, feeling him watching you.
his hands found home on your waist, tight enough that your eyes opened, staring back at him, your dressed hiked up your hips and panties pulled down enough to give him access to you. but instead he watched the way your hand moved, focused on the small moans that fell from your lips, arm threatening to buckle under your weight but you knew if you took your eyes off of him you'd be in trouble.
you managed to focus on him for the first time, seeing just the underside of his neck as his head lolled back. the sound of you moaning from your own doing had him groaning, the sight in front of him something he'd never forget.
"don't stop, fucking don't." he warned, seeing the way your hands grew weaker, movements becoming tired as you grew closer to your high, legs beginning to shake against his own. "so good for me-" your eyes screwed shut, head falling back against his chest as he let you come undone against him, arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up.
lando intertwined his fingers with your own, bringing your fingers up to his mouth as placed kisses to them, taking them in his mouth, cleaning them off. "looked so hot on the podium, wanted to fuck you right there." you spoke against his neck, pulling away slightly and looking up at him for his reply.
"yeah?" you nodded. "gonna let me fuck you now?" nodding again, lando's hands were back on your hips, pushing you down against the cold counter.
his hands ran down your body, a harsh hit against your ass caused you to jolt towards the sink, a whine falling from your lips at the stinging sensation. you felt him against you, moaning as he slid in, stretching you out as if for the first time, feeling every inch of him inside of you.
"lando-" moaning his names he made a makeshift ponytail in your hair, moving against you at a quick pace, the sound of skin against slim bouncing off of the walls in sync with both yours and his groans.
you never felt his pace falter even when his movements became erratic, when he could see your thighs shaking, arms threatening to give out when you held yourself up. "look at you baby, looking so pretty when you let me fuck you."
"only for you lando." his thrusts seemed almost deeper now, a new feeling of pleasure rippling through your body, the warmth coming from him in contrast to the coolness of the counter against your skin. "gonna come, please."
he dropped his head to the crook of your neck, his chest pressed against your back, biting down onto the skin there to muffle the moans he let out, although failing as they mixed with your own, the sounds begging him to let you have your release. "please, lando, please let me come-"
you felt his hips stutter against you, movements faltering and becoming sloppy, and he couldn't hold back when he twitched again inside of you, the feeling triggering your second orgasm of the night as you moaned into your fist, trying to muffle the sounds of your desperate whines, clenching around lando as he reached his own release, feeling him deep inside of you, your vision blurry but you could feel his hands on the backs of your thighs, massaging the muscles that would sure to be sore in the morning. "fuck, i love you." he murmured against your skin.
"i love you too," your eyes met his in the mirror, the mess of his and your hair had you blushing, his pupils blown out, looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. "my race winner."
#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris one shot#lando norris fic#f1#f1 smut#f1 imagine#f1 fluff#f1 one shot#f1 fic#f1 x reader#lando norris x reader#scudevils
601 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's Always You
Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader
Summary: You and Lando share a mutual attraction, but you've kept things professional due to career implications. However, after his first win race, things may change, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.
Word count: 6013
Author's note: First time writing about Lando. I started writing this on the day of the Miami Sprint and then when he won the next day I told myself I would publish it. Tell me what you think.
It's you, it's always you
Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you
So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart
Miami heat wrapped around you like a steamy August day and even if American tracks weren't your thing, the paddock was definitely one of your favourites.
Working with McLaren since 2019 felt like winning the lottery. Travel, new faces, and a taste of different cultures – it was everything you dreamed of. Hospitality put you in the middle of it all – the team, the fans, even the families. Being young, you clicked quickly with the drivers: Carlos and Lando from the start, and Oscar when he joined.
Carlos was your rock, a protective older brother even after his move to Ferrari. Daniel was a blast, always making you laugh with his great sense of humor, and Oscar's calm personality mirrored yours. He became your trackside best friend, sharing everything over coffee and off-track adventures with his girlfriend, Lily.
Then there was Lando. Your relationship with Lando was different. Unlike Carlos, you saw him not as a brother, but as a friend... friends that had feelings for each other.
He was shy at first, stealing glances when you weren't looking. But time made his shyness disappear. Flirting became his game, playful touches here and there and unexpected hugs wherever he felt like it. You ignored the signs until his confession left you speechless in the middle of the night in Monaco.
"I have something I need to tell you." He said.
It was 2020. Monaco was hot that night. Everyone at the team dinner was buzzing about the upcoming classic Monaco Grand Prix. Like always, after the dinner, Lando offered to walk you back to the hotel where the team was staying – nothing new. You even joked about Carlos doing the same thing.
Like all the other times, you didn't think much about the gesture. It was something he used to do, and in your head, it was just a friend helping the other. After all, Carlos did it from time to time. Why should it be any different with Lando?
"What's up?" You asked, the streetlights shining on his face. "Getting nervous about the race? The car feels amazing, right?"
Lando messed with his hair. Your voice, normally like music to him, made him forget what to say. "Uh, no, not the race."
"Then what is it? Now I'm the one freaking out." You tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did you lose your house key again? You're not staying with me."
He wished you'd just be quiet. "Fuck, Y/N!" He blurted out. "I like you." The words came out fast, just like his orange F1 car. Did you hear him right? When he saw the surprise on your face, he knew you had. "I, uh, I mean more than a friend." He stammered. "Like, a lot. You're always in my head, even in my dreams. All the fucking time. I can't even look at other girls because you're all I see. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in any longer."
You suddenly froze, your heart pounding like a drum solo. Time seemed to slow down, with only the two of you and the warm glow of the streetlights as the real things around. You wanted to speak, but the words simply wouldn't come out.
"Please say something!" Lando begged, his voice shaky. "Anything! Even if you don't like me back, just tell me. But don't let this mess up our friendship!"
It didn't destroy your friendship, but it sent your world spinning. You realized your little crush on the driver was a full-blown fire, and with each passing year, the flames only licked higher. But every time Lando flirted, the same words you had said to him tumbled out: "It's inappropriate."
He hated those words. He'd always argue with you about it. "Come on, I like you and I know you like me too. I know it! Who cares about work? We can keep it quiet. It can be our secret." He always had a solution for every worry, but you remained strong.
You wanted to believe that you could remain strong.
The problem was, your feelings were turning into a rebellion. Keeping them bottled up was a losing battle, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist the pressure from the driver.
Lando strutted into the paddock beside you, his black clothes and crisp white shirt doing nothing to hide his cocky grin. "Finally figured out why I haven't won a race yet." He announced, his cologne a heady wave in your direction.
You peeked over your sunglasses. "Oh yeah, Sherlock? What's the conclusion?"
He leaned close, his voice a low rumble. "No good luck kiss from you, that's what! Maybe we should fix that? Make it a tradition if it works."
A laugh escaped you. "So it's my fault, huh?"
"Exactly!" He grinned. "And if I lose again without a kiss, everyone's gonna hear about it."
"That's your best shot at flirting?" You teased. "Seriously, Lando, you're terrible."
A playful smirk tugged at his lips. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the McLaren hospitality area. "The only girl I flirt with is you, love. Guess you'll have to show me how to improve."
Heat flooded your cheeks, betraying your fake indifference. Lando wasn't an idiot. He knew you felt the same way, a truth as clear as the Miami sunshine.
A booming voice shattered the playful tension. "Whoa there, puppet, keep your hands off of her!"
Carlos emerged behind you, clad in his new Ferrari blues. You turned to see him glaring at Lando, who simply scoffed and moved away, the arm around your shoulder replaced by Carlos's protective arm.
He leaned down, a quick peck on your head followed by a wink aimed at Lando, who rolled his eyes with a playful huff.
"Or what?" Lando challenged.
Carlos pretended to consider, then grinned. "Or I'll run you off the track at the race. And don't even think about getting jealous. It's a bad look on you."
Agree to disagree, you thought. Jealousy did look good on him. The way he tapped his foot impatiently, the way he chewed his lip with a focused intensity – those were the subtle giveaways that made your heart skip a beat.
"Leave him alone, Sainz!" You swatted playfully at Carlos' chest, the contact sending a blush blooming across your cheeks.
"Oh, look who's defending the love bird." He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You blushed once again. "Shut up." You whispered.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lando fighting a smile as you continued towards McLaren hospitality. A quick goodbye to Carlos later, you disappeared inside, ready for your daily tasks. Lando watched you go, his gaze lingering long after you were out of sight.
When he finally turned back to his friend, Carlos was waiting, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "What?"
"Ugh, the both of you." Carlos rolled his eyes. "All this mooning and staring, it's getting pathetic. Just take her out, will you?"
Lando sighed. "I've been trying for years. It's always 'inappropriate.'"
"Well, try harder!" Carlos pressed. "Last thing you need is someone else catching her eye."
Lando's playful demeanor vanished. "What do you mean?" He pressed, a sudden seriousness tightening his features. Carlos simply offered him a pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Lando with a gnawing sense of unease. "Hey, what do you mean?"
The sprint had been a disaster. It all ended so quickly that it didn't give him enough time to think, no chance to catch Max and the others at the front. To make matters worse, the Stewards imposed a heavy fine of €50,000 for crossing the track while the rave was still ongoing.
Later, back at the hotel, he was torn between feeling exhausted and frustrated. A cold shower did little to wash away the bitter taste of defeat. He pulled on fresh clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tension leaving his body, hoping for a moment of peace.
A loud ringing sound shattered the silence and startled him out of his daze. He groaned as he searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the crumpled sheets.
Y/n: Hey, Oscar and I are planning to watch a movie and grab some food. Wanna join us? We're in my bedroom.
Lando smile, looking at your text.
Lando: You know I like you. You shouldn't tell me when you have other guys in your bedroom. It breaks my heart.
Although he couldn't see you, he was certain you were rolling your eyes after reading his message.
Y/n: Shut up and get your ass here.
A laugh escaped Lando's lips as he pushed himself out of bed. He stalked over to the mirror, running a hand through his damp curls. With a flick of the switch, the room dropped into darkness, and Lando walked out of his room.
Your room was on a different floor, but soon a familiar knock came at your door. Your heart kicked into a familiar rapid-fire beat as you swung the door open.
"Hi!"
"Hey, beautiful." He cupped your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Osc!" He jumped in your bed and in one smooth motion, he snagged a chip from the bowl you'd set on the nightstand.
"Hey. What do you feel like watching?" He quickly looked through your Netflix library, skipping over the typical romantic comedy options.
"Anything but that mushy stuff." Lando declared, earning a playful jab from you.
"Take your shoes off the bed, Lando!"
He chuckled, kicking off his sneakers. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. You were a black Simpsons shirt and matching sporty shorts, your bare feet resting comfortably on the cool sheets. A small anchor could be seen on your ankle, sparking his imagination about what other hidden treasures lay beneath your clothes.
The spell was broken by a knock on the door. With a quick smile, you ran toward the door, returning moments later with a stack of takeout boxes.
You settled next to Lando on the bed, while Oscar sprawled out at the foot like a contented cat. With the Avengers movie playing softly in the background, you devoured your food, a comfortable silence settling around the three of you.
Two hours passed by quickly as the credits rolled. Oscar groaned and got off the bed. You mimicked his stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of a relaxed evening.
"Looks like someone's having a sleepover!" Oscar teased, pointing a playful finger at Lando. The driver was sprawled across your pillow, a peaceful look on his face.
A soft gasp escaped your lips. "Oh, Lando!" you whispered, torn between amusement and a flicker of panic. He looked undeniably adorable, a mess of soft curls framing his face. You glanced at Oscar, who was already pulling on his sneakers. "We have to wake him up, right?"
Oscar chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We? Seems pretty comfy to me, Y/N. Let the man enjoy his rest." He started towards the door, but you reached out.
"Wait, where are you going? He can't stay here." Panic bubbled in your chest. The thought of him sleeping in your bed sent shivers down your spine.
"So wake him up!"
Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I… I don't want to wake him." The words came out a soft mumble, barely audible.
Oscar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then don't. Trust me, asleep is the only state he'll stay put. Besides, wouldn't you rather wake up to a grateful cuddle buddy in the morning?"He winked, leaving you speechless, alone with the British driver.
Oh my god, you screamed to yourself.
You tiptoed around the room, unsure of your next move. Finally, drawn by a strange magnetism, you found yourself kneeling by the bed.
Lando's serene face was illuminated by the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell gently in sleep, a single black curl escaping the gentle mess of his hair.
An irresistible urge to touch him washed over you. Without thinking about it, your fingers reached out, tentatively brushing against the perfect curl. As if sensing the intrusion, Lando stirred, and his brow furrowed slightly. You quickly retreated to the bathroom, heart pounding as you slammed the door carefully behind you.
Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky breath. You hurriedly changed into pyjamas, suddenly aware of how thin they felt compared to your day clothes. But it was hot, and you hadn't brought anything else.
Peeking through the crack in the door, you peeked out, praying for the best. Relief flooded you when you saw Lando, thankfully still asleep, but now facing the other side of the bed.
You were wondering if that little couch in the corner was worth sleeping on. It looked quite small and uninviting. Sleep on that uncomfortable excuse of furniture, or share the bed with Lando? The answer, realistically, was obvious.
You climbed in, scooting over as far as possible to create a respectable amount of distance from the body next to you. Sleep, thankfully, came quickly. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or perhaps the unexpected warmth and sense of security that came with having Lando beside you, but you drifted off faster than usual.
Sunlight, snuck into the room, painting stripes across Lando's face. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hadn't he closed those curtains last night? He sat up, surprise jolting through him as he realized he wasn't in his own bed.
Even more shocking was the sight beside him. You, cuddle against him, your thin pyjamas offering little to make him look away. One of your legs peeked out from under the discarded sheet, and Lando felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
What in the world? How had he ended up, tangled in your sheets? A quick glance around revealed his phone abandoned on the nightstand. It was still early, but Jon would be expecting him in his room soon. He needed to get out, get cleaned up and get ready for the day. But leaving felt like ripping himself away from something precious.
He stole a glance at you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, was turned towards him. A stray strand of hair tickled your cheek. Hesitantly, he reached out, tucking it behind your ear. The touch, light as a feather, was enough to stir you awake.
Lando didn't flinch and when you fluttered your eyes open, his face was inches away. A wave of yearning swept through you, a desire for more mornings waking up beside him.
"Did I die and go to heaven last night?" His voice, husky with sleep, sent shivers down your spine.
"You fell asleep." You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "And I didn't have the heart to wake you up."
"Right." He breathed the word out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and delighted you. A blush crept up your neck as he murmured, "Lucky me." Then, a sigh escaped his lips. "I have to go. Jon will be at my room any minute."
You nodded and smiled, despite the disappointment tugging at your heart. You watched as he hesitately rose, groaning at leaving your bed. His hair was a mess of adorable curls, and his rumpled clothes added a touch of vulnerability that made him look even more adorable.
He grabbed his phone and sneakers and then paused, a playful smirk on his face. "So, about that lucky kiss for good luck?" He teased, a hint of hope lacing his voice. "We already slept together!"
"Go!" You muttered.
"Fine, fine." He chuckled. "See you later, love."
He turned towards the door, and an impulsive urge surged through you. Before you could overthink it, you were out of bed and racing towards him. He reached for the doorknob, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.
For a moment, confusion clouded his features, but it quickly melted into surprise as you planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, lingering just a beat too long to be considered entirely platonic. When you pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of shock and something deeper.
"There's your lucky kiss." You whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Now go."
Lando stood speechless for a moment, the kiss still tingling on his skin. Then, a slow smile spread across his face "Today is a day full of opportunities." He declared.
With one last lingering look, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. You leaned against the wall, your heart pounding against your ribs.
You had never felt more nervous before in a race. At the start, it seemed like Oscar could give Verstappen a run for his money, but then the safety car came out and it felt like you were barely moving until the end of the race, with Lando being P1. It wasn't until the checkered flag waved that you finally exhaled, a shaky breath that escaped with a nervous laugh.
The McLaren hospitality buzzed with excitement. Lando had finally done it. His first F1 victory, a triumph long overdue. You joined the celebrations, a wide smile plastered across your face, not just for the team, but for Lando himself. It was a moment he deserved.
"Great race, Oscar!" You exclaimed as the Australian driver entered the hospitality area and hug you. "You had Red Bull sweating for a while there!"
He chuckled, pulling you into a brief hug. "Thanks, Y/N. I gave it my all, but the real winner tonight is Lando." He winked. "I'm sure your champion will be here any minute, looking for his girl."
You slapped his arm playfully, a blush creeping up your neck. "Don't say that in here!"
"Everybody knows." He whispered back.
As if on cue, Lando appeared. His eyes scanned the room, a triumphant grin splitting his face when they landed on you. You saw as he and Oscar hugged each other and the rest of the team.
He weaved his way through the crowd, a trail of congratulations and backslaps following him, but it was you he was drawn to. Everyone else faded into the background as he reached you, his victory grin melting into a tender smile reserved only for you.
You welcomed him into a hug, a sweet and loving embrace. He buried his face in your neck, the scent of champagne and his signature cologne an intoxicating mix.
"We did it!" He murmured, his voice filled with emotion.
"You did it!" You corrected, pulling back to cup his face. "I'm so proud of you."
Everyone was engaged in their own celebrations as he took your hand. He led you away from the loud crowd, a silent understanding passing between you. As you slipped inside his driver's room, he locked the door behind him, a thrill of nervousness ran through you.
He closed the distance between you, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your lips. With a tender touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a seductive path across your lips.
"Please!" He pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "Just this once…" You knew exactly what he craved.
"Lando--" You began.
"Please!" He repeated, his voice laced with a desperation that mirrored your own.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. A part of you, the part that had spent months pushing him away, hesitated. But the other part yearned to give in. You nodded.
He cupped your face in his hands and pressed you against the wall. The next moment, his lips were on yours, the taste of champagne a sweet surprise against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. You clung to his fireproof shirt. The world melted away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. All the reasons you'd held back faded away.
But just as the kiss deepened, a knock on the door jolted you both back to reality. You broke away, gasping for breath.
Lando groaned. "Yeah?" The voice from the other side told him they were expecting him. Lando rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."
When you heard the footsteps fade away, you reached for the doorknob, but Lando's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.
"Stop it, Lando." You whispered.
"Don't!" He pleaded. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. I could feel it, Y/N. Don't deny it."
"I'm not denying it." You admitted your voice barely a whisper. "But you know why this can't happen."
Lando's jaw clenched. "It's NOT inappropriate! Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I waited this long for my first win. I can wait for you, just as long."
He cupped your jaw and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips. He unlocked the door in one swift motion and stepped out, leaving you breathless.
You'd politely declined Lando's after-party invitation at the strip club near the hotel. You weren't the nightclub type, and deep down, Lando knew that. You assured him that you hadn't rejected it because of the kiss, but the way the call ended, left a pit in your stomach.
"He's mad! I know it." You mumbled to Oscar, who sat beside you at the hotel bar. The rest of the team was split between a game of darts in the back and loud conversations over drinks by the pool. "He didn't say 'bye, love' or 'see you later, beautiful', we just said bye."
Oscar facepalmed as he looked at his drunk best friend rambling about their mutual friend who was likely doing the same thing at the party.
"You're his friend, Y/N, not his girlfriend." He teased, sending a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stammered a reply, but the words got tangled up in your throat. "He's probably getting lucky tonight." He continued. "Deserves it after that win."
The implication hit you like a punch to the gut. "Lucky? You think he'll...?"
A mischievous glint danced in Oscar's eyes. "Oh, absolutely."
You downed the last of your drink, feeling a hollowness in your chest. "Good for him." You mumbled, the words lacking conviction.
Oscar groaned, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "Jesus, Y/N! The only girl he wants to get lucky with is you. Stop playing these mind games and making yourselves miserable!"
You rested your head on your hand, a wave of emotions crashing over you. "Oscar," You confessed, looking him straight in the eye. "I really like him. Like, never liked anyone this way before."
A slow smile spread across his face. "Then do something about it."
Lando was having the best time of his life, celebrating his first win with his friends. He felt his chest vibrate with every beat of the bass, as he laughed with his friends. Despite the fun he was having, he was also experiencing a dull ache. Your absence stood out.
He'd downed a few too many drinks to drown the disappointment steaming inside. When you declined the club invitation, his frustration boiled over into a harsh goodbye, which he quickly regretted.
"Did you see who just walked in?" Max shouted into his ear over the loud music.
"What?" Max pointed towards the entrance, causing a frown to appear on Lando's forehead.
Your arrival sent a jolt through him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and his earlier frustration vanished as a smile stretched across his face.
"Go get your girl, champ!" Max patted his shoulder with a wink.
Lando needed no further encouragement. He navigated his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.
You scanned the room with a hint of apprehension. Even in your tipsy state, a voice of reason whispered in your head, questioning this impulsive move.
Just as you turned to leave, a warm hand closed around your wrist. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His familiar touch sent a familiar spark across your skin.
He wore a playful smirk, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you weren't coming."
You tried to appear casual, but your voice betrayed you. "I wasn't."
"How much did you have to drink?" He asked you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. How did he know what you had been doing? You stuttered in response, unsure of what to say. "Did Oscar let you come here drunk?"
"I'm not drunk! And how do you know I've been drinking?"
"Then why the sudden change of heart?" His gaze softened, searching your face. "And Oscar's been keeping me updated."
"Why doe--"
"Why are you here, Y/n?" He asked you.
You felt your face getting hot as you looked around the club, the among of bodies suddenly overwhelming. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, the words catching in your tight throat. "I need a drink."
As you made your way towards the bar, Lando followed closely behind. You approached the counter and asked the bartender for a drink. He nodded and began to mix your order. Lando stood by your side, looking a you.
"How did you get here? Does Oscar know?" The concern in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.
You nodded and then drank the entire drink that was placed in front of you all at once. "Yes. He called me an Uber and told the guy to drop me here." Lando looked surprised as he noticed the empty glass in your hand. You hadn't intended to drink it so quickly, but your nerves got the best of you.
"Whoa, slow down there."
"I thought you wanted to celebrate!" You said to him as the bartender handed you another drink. You took it and walked away. Lando's face was adorned with a smile, but worry still lingered in his mind. Despite that, there was a sense of happiness as the night was finally complete.
You leaned heavily against Lando, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the elevator ride made you feel dizzy. He, somehow, seemed frustratingly sober.
"Hey," He chuckled, his voice warm despite the coolness of the metal walls. You managed a watery smile, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "What are you thinking about?"
"Dogs." You mumbled. "Do you think they dream about bones?"
Lando's laugh filled the small space. "Maybe. I don't know beautiful."
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" You blurted out, smiling innocently.
He stopped in front of your room, his gaze holding yours. The concern that had flickered in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something more intense. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A giggle erupted from your lips. Lando reacted instinctively, clapping a hand over your mouth. It was late, and the last thing they needed was a noise complaint. "Shh." He murmured. "Gotta be quiet, love."
You nodded. "Okay!"
"Where's your key?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. You shrugged, the simple action requiring more effort than you cared to admit.
"Lando?" You whined. "Sleepy..."
He cursed under his breath, scanning the empty hallway. Walking up to the front desk for a key wasn't exactly his ideal scenario.
"Alright, you're coming with me." He said gently, scooping you up in his arms. A sleepy protest tumbled from your lips, but you clung to him instinctively as he carried you back towards the elevator.
"Can we go to the beach?" You mumbled as the doors closed.
"The beach will be there in the morning." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's almost five am."
A giggle escaped you. "Naked swim?"
He cleared his throat, the sound a little rough. You'd been a delightful firecracker all night, and he was struggling to keep his cool. "The shower's a much better option right now."
The elevator doors slid open, and with a sigh, he carried you out, your head chilling against his shoulder. He fumbled with his keycard, finally pushing the door open with his foot.
In the room, he gently laid you on the bed, the soft sheets making you relax and close your eyes.
For a moment, he stood there, watching you. The urge to pull you close, to feel your warmth against him, was killing him. But your vulnerability state held him back.
"Hey, love?" He said softly, his voice laced with concern. "Can I take off your shoes?"
You mumbled something incomprehensible but managed a weak nod. He carefully removed your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankle for a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through him.
"Maybe a shower would be good." He suggested, his voice gruff. "You'll sleep better."
"With you?" She asked him, excited.
Lando, still feeling the effects of alcohol, ran his fingers through his hair, feeling hot.
"You can't imagine how much I want to say yes... But no, not tonight." You pouted. Grabbing your hands, he pulled you up. "Ask me again tomorrow!"
He gently led you to the bathroom and helped you sit down. He waited for the water to warm up, and when it was ready, he turned around. Suddenly, Lando's breath caught in his throat.
Without him realising, you had taken off your clothes. You stood bathed in the soft glow, vulnerability etched on your face, wearing only your black lace lingerie.
He tore his gaze from you. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs, mimicking the feel of the alcohol in his veins. Only if you weren't drunk...
"Are you okay?" Your voice was so gentle and innocent, nothing like it normally sounded. You reached out and touched his back. He flinched the innocent gesture a powerful trigger for his already steaming desire.
"Y/N, please!" He pleaded. "If you keep touching me..." The sentence trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. The more he looked at you, the more his willpower crumbled. Shame washed over him. "Love, just take a shower. You need to sober up." He gestured to a pile of clothes on the counter. "There are some of mine there. I'll be outside when you're done."
You stayed in the shower for a while, the hot water feeling good against your skin. You weren't completely sober, the world still held a gentle sway, but the edge of drunkenness had dimmed.
Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel Lando had left out.
As you dried your hair, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Even in the state of mind you were, you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You put on the clothes he had left you and shoved the feeling down.
Lando, scrolling through his phone on the bed, looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. Relief washed over him as he saw you wrapped in his clothes.
"Feeling better?" He asked. You offered a small nod, leaning weakly against the doorframe. The playful energy that had fueled you earlier had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. "Good!" He said, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sleepy?" You simply nodded again. He cleared his throat, the silence growing heavy in the room. "So... Are you comfortable sharing the bed, or...?"
"It's fine." You mumbled. A playful glint flickered in your eyes. "And I promise I won't, uh, bite."
Lando chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't get me wrong, love," He said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "You could do whatever you wanted most nights, believe me. But not tonight."
He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, inviting you to join him, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.
You waddled across the room, the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. Climbing onto the bed, you scooted closer to him, a nervous feeling running through you, despite the lingering effects of the alcohol still dancing through your veins.
"Can we at least...?" You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper. "You know... a goodnight kiss?
"You're a menace when you're drunk, you know that?" He teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.
You batted your eyelashes in a way you knew usually worked. He sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright!" He complied. "But on the cheek. Lips are off-limits tonight."
You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As he leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.
"Goodnight, Y/N!" He murmured, his voice sending a flutter to your heart. "Hope you'll remember this tomorrow morning."
"Goodnight, race winner." You replied, a hint of sleepiness in your voice.
Sunlight pierced through the blinds, finding your eyelids and forcing them open with a groan. Your head felt like a maraca that had been shaken all night, and your mouth tasted like a desert. Sitting up cautiously, you winced at the throbbing in the back of your head.
Memories and fragments started to come back. The kiss, the club, the dancing, Lando's strong arm around you... and then... a complete blank. Panic started to rise in your chest. What had you done? Had you said something stupid or done something worse?
The bedroom door creaked open and Lando entered, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked like a vision with his rumpled hair and a smile breaking out on his face as soon as he saw you awake.
"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, his voice sounding awful to your pounding head.
"Don't yell!" You mumbled. "Water?"
He chuckled, handing you a bottle of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes.
You took a deep breath. "I remember... bits and pieces." You admitted, shame creeping up your cheeks. "Lando, I am sorry if I did something or said something wrong... I must have been awful. I was very, very drunk."
He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I wish you felt that comfortable around me all the time." Lando reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch sent a jolt through you. "You know how much I like you... Y/n, I'm in love with you."
Your heart hammered against your ribs at his confession. A real and pure confession.
"Lando--" You breathed, your voice thick with emotion.
He took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "I know..." He said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just know that I'll wait for you. However long it takes." He squeezed your hand.
Tears welled up in your eyes. The years of running, of pushing him away, suddenly seemed pointless. All you wanted was to be here, with him.
Leaning forward, you met his gaze. Then, you cupped his face gently and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. It was a kiss filled with apology and relief.
"I'm tired of running." You whispered against his lips. "I'm in love with you too. I've always have."
Lando couldn't help but grin as you hugged him. First, the win, then the kiss and now the girl of his dreams confessing her feelings. Yeah, you could definitely say it was a very good day for Lando No Wins.
"I love you, Y/n." You smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile.
"I love you too, Lando." You knew, at that moment, hugging the person you had been in love with for years, that you were finally home.
#lando norris#lando x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 fic#lando norris imagine
603 notes
·
View notes
Text
c/w: implications of violence and murder, mentions of abuse, slight dub-con but not really, nsfw
farmersdaughter!reader and farmhand!soap anyone? you’re a shy little thing, always greeting him with a wave and little smile every day until your father comes over and yells at you to get away from the window
he knows your father doesn’t treat you well, keeping you locked up in the house and treating you like a maid. johnny doesn’t like him one bit
which is why he gets rid of him. you know johnny had kind of a violent past, haven’t been a soldier in the war until he was discharged. so in the night he makes your dad disappear, whether he threatens him to get out of town or uses more permanent means, he’s gone
comforts you when you cry about being left alone, how you have no family and no husband to take care of you. johnny comforts you, coos in your ear and rubs a hand up and down your back when you came running to him in the barn, a goodbye note clutched in your trembling hand
let’s his hand wander up your skirt, your sniffles making his cock twitch in his jeans. you don’t resist when he places a few experimental pecks to your lips, his calloused hands cupping your cheeks. let’s his tongue flick out to touch yours when he realises you aren’t pushing him away
only when he ruts his clothed cock against your hip do you hesitate, “we can’t. if people found it, it’s improper, we aren’t married…” you all but whine, your lips millimetres from his
he chuckles, his thumb move up to rub your clit over your panties. your legs jolt out wider, a panting moan leaving your lips,
“dinnae need te worry, bonnie. I’ll have you wed and bred by the end of the week, no one’ll know…” he whispers, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he kisses you once more. his hand reaching out to grab yours and place it over his clothed erection before covering it with his own and making you squeeze it <3
#mw2#cod mw2#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x reader#captain mactavish#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#soap#soap x reader
600 notes
·
View notes
Text
pairing : sunghoon x fem!reader
genre : porn without plot
heads—up : dom!hoon, reader is in sub space, overstimulation, fingering, cunnilingus, praise, dacryphilia, unprotected sex & implications of reader being edged before
wordcount : 1,300 words
★★★
sunghoon felt a little apologetic, well, not really, if he had to be honest. the second he watched your face contort into that one dazed expression, eyes looking into absolutely nothing with your lips just twitching into something between the lines of euphoria and satisfaction, he knew you'd reached your peak.
there it was, the times he thought when you were the prettiest (mostly because you were too dizzy to speak). he realised he did push you a little too far today and so to make up for it, he thought he'd be nice enough to let you (read:finally) come undone on his tongue — not that you noticed the genuine smile he flashed at you right before he dunked his head down.
he blew cool air onto the pink flesh, relishing in the way your thighs flutter before licking a stripe against your pussy. the action has you mewling, though nothing really registers in your mind in the frenzy you were in. you felt his fingers dip into the suppleness of your inner thighs, eyes closing and rolling back at the minimal contact. “feels good?” he licked another stripe before mouthing at your nub, his eyes looking straight up at you through his lashes, feasting on how vulnerable and pretty you look while he's helping you get off. “’m sensitive—” you barely breathed out before he started toying with your clit, repetitively popping it in and out of the warm cavern before flicking his tongue against it. “yeah, doll’s all sensitive? isn’t that good, though?” he chose his words carefully, knowing well how his sentence may either make it or break it, it being your high.
you nodded desperately, head firm against your pillow, placing your hands on his shoulders, “may i touch you, please?” sunghoon smiled at that, playing out a little nod and a hum through which you finally thread your fingers into his hair, pulling on the strands gently whenever it felt like it was too much. “gonna come!” you whispered, his fingers rubbing at your nerves while his tongue prod at your hole. “good girl, go on, baby, come on my tongue.” he simply said before plunging his tongue into your gummy walls, moaning at the way you eagerly suck him in.
it was too much for you, at this point, sunghoon was too good at what he did, by simply eating you out and talking you through your high, you felt the tide crash against the rock, finally sending you over the edge and your sweet release coating your boyfriend’s face.
however, he doesn't seem to stop there, for some reason, you think, he has vowed to torture you that night, although sweetly. he continued licking at your opening, thumb finally easing into it. you could feel the familiar ache ignite in your tummy again, it never really went away, it seemed that with sunghoon, you could never catch a break and your body never really asked for one anyway. “oh, please, too much!” you pleaded, although you didn't really want him to stop.
“too much?” he questioned in feigned disbelief, “you’re gonna take what i give you, doll. what's the safe word?” he asks before kissing softly the junction that connects your thigh to your pelvis. you shook your head at that, iterating that you could go on, bucking your hips upward to feel even the slightest of another inch of his thumb. “oh? thought you said it was too much?” he played with the strings of his sweats before yanking it down. “think you can take my cock?”
the moment you opened your mouth to whine an affirmative response, sunghoon had already lined himself up against your entrance, a brow raised at you. you can feel your breath quicken, after hours of him denying you his cock, you were finally going to be fucked, that's all you needed to get a good night's sleep. lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice when he pushed half of himself into you, grunting and cussing under his breath, something about how you feel so good wrapped so well around his cock.
he pushed one of your legs up his shoulder before letting you wrap the other against his waist. the new angle by itself had your mouth gaping open so the moment he started rutting into your pussy, you could swear you felt your vision whiten completely. “fuck, feels so good, please, harder!” sunghoon scoffed at your words, fingers quick to grip your chin, “open your eyes.” he ordered as he halted, an ungrateful comment passing through your lips at that, “harder?” he questioned when you met his eyes and when you nodded, he pushed into you once again with a particular force in his movement this time, all the while maintaining eye contact. his thumb that once played with your cunt now slithered up to the corner of your lips before meeting your tongue.
his action was easy to understand, he wanted you to focus on sucking on his thumb and you did just that while he plunged himself into you hard and slow. you mumbled unintelligibly about having to come and sunghoon allowed you to do so with a nod, his free hand gripping your waist after it let your leg that rested upon his shoulder down onto the bed. he placed a pillow from nearby below your arched lower back so you stayed afloat and still had a nice angle for him to fuck into. “come for me, doll.” it was all you needed along with one last thrust of his to come undone around his cock, “look at you creaming around my cock, so fucking pretty.” he growled before resuming his actions, this time letting both your legs tightly grasp his hips as he pounded into your cunt.
“sung—hoon! i can't!” you shrieked, a tear leaking past your right eye and dropping down your jawline, “just one more, you can do this, doll.” he spoke in a strained voice, visibly exhausted as well. you shook your head repeatedly despite tightening your grip around his hip and digging your nails into his back, head nuzzled deep into his neck while your body shook violently.
sunghoon wasn't unknown to the wet feeling on his neck, somehow, the fact that he was fucking you good enough to make you cry had his dick twitching, engulfed by your walls. “i am coming, doll, just hold on a little more.” he continued to snap his hips into yours, lips coming down to touch your forehead and then pull your face against his to dart his tongue at your tear stained cheeks.
the taste of the salt and the way you clenched onto him at the unexpected skinship had him spilling his seeds deep in you, he stilled at that point. “you did so well, doll, so good for me.” you nodded into his neck before placing a kiss against his lips, “i’m sleepy.” it didn't take you long to pass out in his arms, sunghoon’s eyes widening before returning to its normal size as he let out a little laugh in disbelief. “i can count on you to leave me hanging like this.” with a sigh, he pulled away the pillow from below before going out to fetch a towel to clean you up.
★★★
all rights reserved to @dreamerbytubatu 2024, please do NOT copy/translate/steal my works.
#sunghoon smut#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon hard hours#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen x reader#sunghoon imagines#enhypen imagines
425 notes
·
View notes
Text
the tsv crew are generally just really really good at coming up with names for people, places and things that subtly convey the ideas and themes they're intended to evoke, but "the parish of tide and flesh" stands out to me specifically because of the body horror emphasis that tacking "and flesh" onto the words used to represent the core beliefs and values of the group carries. the implication that flesh is as malleable and changeable as the tides; that one should aspire to be reshaped in their image. that the price of admission and the reward are one and the same - flesh. the skin off your back or another's. the mouth devouring and the mouth returning, chewed-up and god-bitten and something entirely new in all its horrible glory.
269 notes
·
View notes
Text
bbc merlin - 04x05 His Father's Son
top 10 breakups of all time
#but it's okay#because he figures his shit out in the same ep#alls well that ends well#merlin rewatch#bbc merlin#merlin#arthur#merthur#s4#you must learn to accept that is also SO crazy of him#the implication of him having accepted it already and all#but you know full well he despises being alone#both of them do#no matter how much it seems that he's saying it for merlin's sake#he's saying it for his own sake more#good thing merlin is so stubborn
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
I just realized the “our song” she mentions in hits different is likely the starting line
#wondering which song#the implications of that line in hits different and all of the black dog#each bar plays our song nothing has ever felt so wrong#hits different#the black dog#ttpd#it’s joever
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
The key problem with "proship vs anti" discourse is that the most extreme versions of each side, the ones who actually bother to identify with these labels, accepted each others worst takes as arguments they had to debate. "Fiction =/= reality" is, in practice, an absurdly reductionist, anti-intellectual, thought-terminating-cliche that dictates we can learn nothing about a person via art and that their fiction reflects no political or moral messaging worthy of critique. In response to this, the "puriteens" who are too young to possibly hope to articulate their discomfort, to untangle their position from what is often real trauma experienced online, simply argue "yes, fiction influences and reflects reality in a 1 to 1 capacity." They, and people who want to use the groundwork they laid to make bad-faith callouts, make bad arguments about how the action of engaging in problematic fiction is on equal ground to real life abuse, or is a clear indicator of interest in real life abuse. Both of these arguments are terrible, but each side seems to radicalize the other further and further into their own brands of anti-intellectual reactionary belief. "Proshippers" become libertarian absolutists about free speech and view all transgression as righteous and alternative and therefore leftist. They gain a reactionary nostalgia for the past, desiring a time when people didn't seem to care about the implications of art. "Antis" become authoritarian and hypervigilant for signs of moral decay, at their worst, willing to align themselves with government bodies that offer carceral solutions to the debate. They are willing to use harassment as a tool of punishment, which then leads to false accusations and a fear of openness that puts people at risk of being triggered via obfuscation. (That said, proshippers also take part in plenty of harassment.)
I will say that I believe both of these movements are equally sensitive to co-opting by right-wing forces. We see the authoritarian tendencies of anti culture in harassment campaigns and even the way Republican law makers co-opt "grooming." The proship/fic crowd has such extreme nostalgia for the past that I often see people align themselves with the cultures of 4chan or other happily right-wing websites. They so heavily reject the idea that a drawn sexual depiction of a child could reflect any desire that they are disinterested in analyzing what the motivation behind the depiction is. i.e If we track the history of lolicon in Japan we do find that is, yes, countercultural, but that counter culture is right wing, very misogynistic, and defensive of patriarchial Japanese culture as it is and was including its culture around rape and abuse. Plenty of fictional content works as radicalization material, and radicalization material needs to be ambiguous. There is a valid reason to be hesitant to trust people who consume this content, even if I do not believe most of them will ever be dangerous towards children. The mere presence of sexuality is not enough to make a movement left wing. This kind of thing can again be seen in right-wing libertarian movements in the US. (And even leftist movements can be bigoted and even "pro-pedophilia" or otherwise disinterested in social reform around abuse.)
Is all content with elements of age-play this way? No. But to me, that is why kink media deserves to be treated as art and analyzed, critiqued, treated seriously. It doesn't have to do anything to anyone to be worthy of a moral critique. Said moral critique just doesn't warrant harassment and cruelty and reactionary exaggerations of the person consuming said content.
Anyway, what's my point in saying all this? I don't know. I'm just begging you to tag your God damn content with specific tags instead of random and nebulous shit like "dead dove" or "dark content", and also begging you to stop harassing people who do tag their content so I don't have to guess what "dead dove" and "dark content" mean. No one will erase incest kink fics or people who feel sickened by the idea of them off this earth because we aren't god, but we could at least all be responsible about tagging, flagging, and age-gating our stuff.
375 notes
·
View notes
Text
@enderfore replied to your post “What do you think of Rook's savanaclaw card? <333”:
Chenya pic where???? I can barely see anything in that room there so much going on, rooks such a lil freak (affectionatr)
he's under the row of flags on Neige's side of the room, next to the big Neige poster with the yellow background (look just to the right of the hand holding the apple)! he's REAL little; once you know he's there you can kind of see him in-game, but I only noticed him in the first place because I took a screenshot and was having fun zooming in on all the details!
I think that's either Hop or Snick and Dominic on either side of Neige, but if the others are meant to be anyone in particular I don't recognize 'em. though I do love all the absolutely terrifying implications of Rook having this. was this some kind of officially-published merchandise (and if so, why) or did Rook like...go hunting through the RSA trash to find this random student lineup just because it included Neige, and has had it hanging proudly on the wall ever since. (I mean, he definitely did do this, I don't know why I'm asking. the real question is why he hasn't cut out little pictures of his own face and stuck them over everyone else's yet.)
there is seriously SO MUCH in this room. how did Rook manage to keep this hidden for three years. also, somebody give this background artist a raise immediately.
#screenshot#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 part 8 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 part 8 spoilers#this just in: the savanaboys are canonically very respectful of each other's privacy and right to their own personal space#the other option is that no one actually wants to see why rook is always so desperate to keep people out of his room#but these are not mutually exclusive! leona respects your boundaries through genuinely not giving a shit. ⭐️#god. rook's room really was somehow exactly what i expected but also so much more than i could have ever imagined.#the literal divide down the center including his BEDSHEETS AND PILLOW#do you think rook makes sure to sleep precisely down to the mm in the center of his bed each night what am i saying of course he does#he has also probably trained his eyes to move independently so he can look at both of the hanging posters above his bed at once#savanarook really was such a treasure. i shall miss him.#(i have also decided based on basically nothing that because there's a banner with vil's unique magic name on it)#(and the corresponding banner for neige says '[someday my] prince will come')#(that i'm going to headcanon this as being neige's unique magic. i must know what it does. the possibilities are TANTALIZING)
390 notes
·
View notes
Text
What about Caretakers who, despite their best intentions, are also Whumpers?
Maybe Whumpee has a condition/is non-human and afraid of hurting people. Maybe it’s something they can’t control. Carewhumper loves them anyway, wants to help them, wants to keep them safe, so they take to restraining Whumpee every night. When it gets bad, they slip a sedative into their water and install locks on every door. This becomes their new normal.
Somehow, when Whumpee meets a new Caretaker, they expect the same routine. They remind Caretaker to tie them down before bed, and then confused by the devastation on Caretaker’s face, until it clicks.
They were never dangerous. Not really.
#whump#insp#ideas#prompts#fantasy whump#its about the implications!!#and how even well meaning people can hurt you#and how realising that can undo all those years it took learning to trust again!!#everybody is capable of harm#but it doesnt mean everybody is a monster#you are not a monster because of things you cant control
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spy x Family Chapter 98: An Explosion
Let's start with the most important thing and we'll go from there. Ready? This panel:
Blink and you'll miss that insignificant comment from someone we don't even know their name. Nevertheless, given the implications of Project Apple, this panel is huge! Because, even if back then it was just a rumor, there's a chance it could also be true. Project Apple could have started during the first conflict. This leads me to the following theory:
Anya's biological parents were prisoners of war.
The story about Twilight as a soldier, Martha and Henry, as well as Millie, Franky, and even the Lady Patriots Society tell us about the dehumanization of the enemy. So yeah, it's very possible that it was acceptable for either side to do anything they wanted with captured enemies, that includes experimentation.
And by prisoners of war, I'm not only referring to soldiers and medical personnel, but also spies. Wouldn't it be funny if Anya's birth parents were also spies? It's too soon to tell, but it's so much fun to speculate 😆
At the beginning, it's stated that Anya was created by accident:
Maybe she was "an accident" between two prisoners of war or between a prisoner of war being experimented on and a scientist 🤔
So here's another crazy idea: Everyone thinks that Anya learned Classical Language because it was used in the lab by scientists, but what if it was her biological parents the ones who taught her that language in order to be able to communicate with each other?
At some point, I thought that even if we learned about Anya's past there was a possibility we would never know about her parents, now I think we will.
About the Chapter
Clearly, SXF is an anti-war story that wants to show us how terrible war is for EVERYONE. That's why big and small characters, side or main, have been affected greatly by war.
I'm sure plenty of people will talk about Martha and Henry's love story. After this chapter, I think it's clear that they probably were separated by war and that Henry had to marry to save himself, leaving Martha up in the air. (I know I am a fool, but I keep hoping she's the one he married, but I don't think so 😭)
Anyways, leaving the cautionary semi-tragic love story aside (Ahem, watch out Twilight and Yor)...I see what the author is trying to do: The story shows us very clearly what happens to every person when pushed to their limits, when they and their families are in danger. It's a story about loss, loss, and more loss.
The story is trying to make the readers root for peace and be very adamant against war. This is a masterclass on "Show, don't tell." So even if a lot of these stories seem insignificant because it's about side characters, they are meant to influence the readers' point of view about war, so when it reaches the main characters, we all know what could happen to them. These stories are meant to raise the stakes for the main characters.
Now, I've said it before: It's very possible that close to the climax of the story, Ostania and Westalis will be at the verge of a third conflict. By then, we'll know much more about the main characters' background as well as many other stories of side characters affected by war (don't be surprised if The Garden was created as a consequence of it). So when we're close to the end, when war is about to happen, we'll know exactly what could happen to the Forgers, because it has already happened to so many people: loss.
Something to Keep in Mind
The more the story moves forward, the more curious I am about the Desmonds. Since all of the characters were affected by war, I'm wondering how were the Desmond affected? Melinda certainly has issues (did this happen during and because of the war?) and Donovan Desmond is still a BIG question mark. It easy to relate to what normal characters feel. If any of us were going through something similar, we would be terrified too. However, how is it for someone in charge? How did Desmond see and suffer war? I really want to know.
One Last Thing
If in two chapters focusing on two side characters Endo has managed to create such a beautiful love story, can you image what he plans to do with Twiyor, which is the main couple of the story??
I know I say this a lot, but after seeing this my expectations are high and I am convinced it'll be worth the wait.
Food for thought.
#spy x family#twiyor#sxf#spy x family analysis#Sxf meta#Sxf chapter 98#loid forger#yor forger#martha marriott#henry henderson#loidyor
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
8:39 AM — nanami kento
warnings: implications of depression for reader
kento knows this. he recognizes this pattern, in which you cannot and will not leave the confines of the bed. he’s more than aware.
he should’ve been in his office about 30 minutes ago. but he can’t bring himself to show up on time when he’s making you a meal for each moment of the day. with rough hands and a gentle touch, he sculpts a sandwich for breakfast, then a comforting meal for lunch, and he’ll make sure to come home with your favorite dinner when his shift ends at 6. he prepares a large water bottle and a handful of snacks on the side. he’s careful in everything he does.
he knows this routine all too well, but he promises not to be too obvious about it. instead, he leaves your sandwich on the bedside table, and a note about where the rest of the food is should you want lunch. he places your water and a tray of your snacks next to the sandwich. and before he leaves, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, murmuring a gentle “i love you” before closing the door.
he won’t mind if you eat all of it, or if you don’t eat anything at all. he knows this pattern, he knows what to do. at times, he wishes he didn’t have to know — he wishes you didn’t have to live through the pattern. all the same, he knows it’s not as easy to dispel as a curse.
nanami kento is patient. he won’t make a remark about how you’ve been in bed all day. instead, he’ll wait with warm and open arms, and he’ll wait for as long as you need him to.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu nanami#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jjk fanfic#jjk headcanons#jjk nanami#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami angst#nanami fluff#nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami x y/n
259 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scenario where PIDW Bingge had something like the fucked up baby dimension from Fire Emblem: Fates for handling his kids.
For those who haven't played enough Fire Emblem games: in Fates you can hook up various characters who will, once they've bonded sufficiently, get married and have children. Because there is a dangerous war on and nobody has time for childcare, these babies get sent to various pocket dimensions where time moves differently, where they are raised by servants. They then reappear in the story as adults (mostly) who are also just like, barely younger than their own parents. This is of course hilariously fucked up, for even more reasons than what a simple overview can convey, and it's also just kind of shrugged off by the narrative despite the many, many bewildering implications involved.
So I'm imagining Airplane stealing this whole concept and sitting down to write about Bingge sending all of his children away in order to protect them from his enemies or whatever other excuse, creating special nursery dimensions with Xin Mo only to not really spend any time with his offspring at all, resulting in a lot of them growing up extra fast and reentering the story as adults at wildly unpredictable intervals (i.e. whenever Airplane feels like it without having to remember the timelines involved because *waves hand* time passes differently in the different dimensions too). For the daughters, this just gets them married off into alliances (if they're even mentioned at all, because Airplane doesn't want to write incest and there's basically only one reason female characters get mentioned in this story), but for the sons, this usually has them showing up as upstart challengers to their father's throne. With a conclusion, generally, of them getting their asses kicked and then being sent back to their pocket dimensions with their tails between their legs (Binghe killing his own kids would be too reprehensible, after all). Sometimes (rarely) they become loyal generals. One or two have died to fuel revenge arcs. The protagonist halo extends only limited benefits to his kids.
Anyway, Shen Yuan of course reads all of this and absolutely hates it. What do you mean Binghe doesn't even raise his own kids?! What do you mean even their mothers don't?! Shen Yuan understands that Luo Binghe is an important guy with important things to do, but handling it this way makes it impossible to even consistently visit his children on their birthdays! They'd be having birthdays every day because they're all on freaking Narnia time! And of course his sons keep growing up and trying to overthrow him, surely Binghe himself should appreciate that under these conditions, his children are going to see the servants raising them as parents more than some distant emperor they've never met...? Not to mention, if time moves quickly in these dimensions, theoretically Binghe could just stay there with his kids himself and not have to worry too much about things changing in his realm, because only a few months would pass there! He could have it both -- spend plenty of time with his kids and not worry about neglecting his responsibilities! So why doesn't he do that?!
The answer (never actually provided by Airplane) is that Bingge doesn't really feel a strong connection to his children, and because of his reverence for his adoptive mother, he thinks that giving them peaceful lives with simple people to raise and love them is the kindest thing he can do for them. If he could have had an idyllic childhood with his mother in a place where nothing could harm him, he would have never sought power at all.
But of course, Binghe's kids aren't thinking "oh gosh yeah my humble childhood in a magic dimension was much better than starving on the streets!" because that wasn't ever going to be their fate in the first place. Instead they all develop varying complexes about being sent away by their impossibly remote father and his giant harem.
Possible fic ideas involving this setup:
-Bingyuan where Shen Yuan transmigrates into the intended tutor of one Luo Binghe's most troublesome sons. SY arrives in the baby dimension and immediately bonds with the little Luo, gets really mad about the whole situation all over again, and when Bingge shows up for a rare visit, rips him a new asshole about it. Romcom shenanigans ensue.
-Scenario where SV's Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe decide they're ready to adopt, and SQQ figures out a back door into PIDW Binghe's baby dimensions and just sort of, ehm, borrows some of the children he knows had really bad times in the novel (not all of the idyllic upbringings worked out, there were instances of the dimensions being attacked and the servants there being killed and etc). Bingge eventually finds out. Dramatics ensue.
-When PIDW Binghe tries to summon a Shen Yuan of his own to the PIDW world using Xin Mo, it accidentally creates some stability issues with the baby dimensions. Shen Yuan get teleported in and out of these dimensions instead, bonding with the kids there to various degrees, only to be swept away every time Bingge tries to use Xin Mo to find him again. A handful of years later, a bunch of new Heavenly Demon scions emerge as adults with the Luo family's Shizun Complex in full swing, right around the same time that Bingge finally captures Shen Yuan. Hijinks ensue.
#svsss#bingqiu#bingyuan#scum villain#scum villain's self saving system#airplane seeing a horribly contrived plot device that makes little sense and exists only to facilitate fanservice: game recognizes game
160 notes
·
View notes
Text
8: SURPRISE!
Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter
Bucky's surprise birthday party provides more surprises than you had hoped.
Word count 3.2k
Warnings: Birthday boy behaving badly, Priya is the warning here!
Erik’s sexual intervention had released you of the tension you felt whenever you were around Bucky and you realized that his birthday was quickly approaching. You made it your mission to start working on Bucky’s birthday party. The previous year he had flat out refused to let you throw him any festive gathering and you had only accepted that on one condition: he would get one this year. You had no intention of letting him wheedle his way out of it this year. He had begrudgingly agreed but only if it was something small and intimate with his friends only.
You had given Bucky a withering look. "Trust me! I know you well enough. You’re going to like it. I promise!"
You felt like a kid in a candy store, who had been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s entire kingdom. Glee was written across your features, you wanted everything to be perfect for your best friend. Steve was your trusty accomplice and you had invited Priya into the fold as a way to make up for your misdemeanors. She had suggested that you order food from Sticks and Stones because he loved the food there and even convinced Victor to help with the catering.
A week before the auspicious day, you had pulled Steve aside to ask him if he would accompany you to pick up Bucky’s birthday gift.
"Did you find it?" Steve asked you.
"The Glenn Miller vinyl?"
Steve nodded.
"Yeah, I found it! It’s in a vintage records store in SoHo." You smiled.
"Bucky’s going to love it. His family would play them all the time, he was such a natural dancer. It would be nice for him to do that again."
"I’m glad it’s got Captain America’s seal of approval!" you quipped cheekily.
Steve rolled his eyes, feeling relaxed and happy for once. "Do you want to go and pick it up now? I’ll drive. I can pick up my gift at the same time!"
"Oh that would be great, Steve! What did you get him?"
"You know that picture you took, the one of Bucky, you, me, Nat and Sam?"
"Yeah, I know the one."
"I painted it. There is a guy who said he would frame it and he texted me this morning saying it was ready to collect.
"Steve! I can’t wait to see it!" you squealed with excitement. "Let’s go!"
Both of you set off, climbing the stairs that led to the parking garage.
"Oh, Priya, hey! Didn't see you there!" you smiled at her as you noticed her presence at the top of the staircase.
Priya smiled back at you tersely.
"Everything okay?" Steve asked.
"Fine."
"Do you need a lift home?"
"No, I'm spending the night with Bucky."
"Ahh," Steve blushed at the implication of sex.
You rolled your eyes and tugged on Steve's sleeve. "Come on, punk. See you later Priya!"
*
March tenth came around quicker than expected. You waited impatiently for Bucky to arrive as his 'surprise’ party. Even though Priya was distracting him, Bucky knew about the events that had been planned. You knew he didn't like loud noises or jump scares, but he had promised to act suitably surprised.
Everything for the party went off without a hitch. The room was filled with dozens and dozens of black and gold balloons. Swing music was playing on the gramophone that Tony had purchased for the occasion. Sam cheekily had a cardboard cut out of Bucky made with his vibranium arm cut off so you could play ‘Pin the arm on Bucky’. You groaned but secretly you wanted to beat everyone.
Thor had made an appearance and was already half way through the bucketful of Asgardian ale, which he claimed to have brought for the birthday boy. Even Ayo, who you'd invited, had graced you with her presence. When she arrived, you flung your arms around the reserved Wakandan warrior. The Dora Milaje did not engage in public displays of emotion, but for you she offered a hug in return.
Things seemed to be going well. Bucky arrived with Priya and was greeted with yells and streamers. Bucky's surprise was convincing… possibly a little too dramatic, making Priya laugh and you groan exasperatedly. You stood on the side of the room watching everyone mingle, enjoying how Bucky's attention was demanded from everyone in the room. His friends were kind enough not to crowd him, or overwhelm him, but also make him feel special all at the same time.
It warmed your heart to see the light in his eyes, the enjoyment on his face. Priya was glued to his side, stroking his hair, whispering in his ear. His arm was constantly around her waist. She was the only thing that marred your perfect vision of the event.
"I am surprised that James chose that woman," Ayo appeared beside you, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Jesus, Ayo. We've talked about you sneaking around. Don't make me tie a bell around your ankles!"
Ayo smiled. "Why isn't that you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why haven't you told James how you feel?" Ayo doesn't wait for your reply. "It could be you dancing with him rather than standing here looking like a wallflower."
"Maybe you could dance with me."
"I think not, Y/N." Ayo never used your nickname.
"Way to let a girl down gently, Ayo."
Ayo just rolled her eyes at you and ventured over to Thor who was challenging everyone to a drinking contest, one which no one was engaging in. Steve was beside him, sipping the liquor carefully enjoying the buzz he rarely got to experience. Wanda and Vision were lovingly embraced in each other's arms in a corner, dancing like the rest of the world didn't exist. Nat was behind the bar serving her own special cocktails and flirting with a blushing Bruce. Clint and Laura were laughing with Pepper, while Tony, Sam and Rhodey were playing cards and making the most outrageous noise.
You loved your little found family, even though you missed the one that brought you up. Coulson's S.H.I.E.L.D. team had inducted you into the world of violence and espionage and aliens and time travel. It was with them that you'd learnt to control your powers and become worthy to call yourself an Avenger.
Agent Melinda May was the only member of the team you saw regularly anymore since she worked close by in the new S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy HQ. She had been your S.O. for many years and held a special place in your heart, despite her prickly exterior. She often joked that you would make an excellent addition to her staff at the Academy and to ensure that you lived long enough to accept the position when retiring from ‘that Avenger gig’.
You were brought out of your reverie about the past by Priya, who was standing on a chair shouting about it being time for presents.
Everyone cheered and you were grinning like a lunatic now. You felt excited to give Bucky your gift. The first edition Glenn Miller record was safely wrapped in a solid casing. In the Mood was the last song that Bucky and his family had danced to while he had been on leave from the War. His last happy memory of them before he had fallen from the life he had known, before he had been thrust into a world of ice and torture.
About a year ago, you had caught Bucky using your Spotify to listen to music from his childhood and had offhandedly mentioned this piece of information about his past. You kept hold of this precious tidbit for the right occasion.
Bucky had already started ripping open wrapping paper when you ventured over. Wanda had knitted him a black scarf with golden threads to match his arm, which had made him smile. Next Sam handed him a small black box which Bucky opened to find a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.
"Thought you could use some props, spice life up a little," he winked at Bucky. Sam had a way of pushing Bucky's buttons, but you could see the mild blush on Bucky's cheeks which deepened when Priya interjected.
"Thank you very much, Samuel, but James and I don't need such tawdry things in the bedroom."
Bucky shrugged apologetically at Sam and you wondered if he was thinking about your recent conversation.
Sam was pushed aside by Thor, who deposited a large vat of ale into Bucky's arms. "Many happy returns, metal man." He patted Bucky on the back so hard that Bucky almost dropped his gift.
Bucky was depositing the alcohol on the gift table when he was approached by Ayo. "Happy Birthday, James."
"Thank you for coming, it means a lot that you took the time."
"You look like you are doing well for yourself."
"Yeah, it’s good," Bucky smiled.
"This is for you." She handed him a simple box with padding on the inside. Bucky opened it to find a pair of ornately decorated blades made from vibranium. Everyone gasped at how beautiful they looked in the dim lights. They collapsed in on themselves and were discrete and easy to conceal. Ayo pointed out a small device which acted like a homing beacon so Bucky would be able to locate them if he lost sight of them.
"These are incredible! Thank you."
Tony didn't have many words but he did hand Bucky a beautifully ornate envelope which Bucky opened tentatively. Inside was an invitation to a magnificent moonlit dinner on a yacht on the Hudson. Bucky held the gift reverently in his hands, his vibranium fingers barely gripping, as though their strength might make the gift crumble. His eyes glistened in the party lights, a thin film of unshed tears. There had been a time where they were ready to kill each other, and even now they never spent any time alone together. You knew that this gift meant a lot to Bucky.
"Dinner on a boat? I think we'll have to pass on that, I get sea sick." Priya commented, gazing at the gift certificate around Bucky's arm.
A flicker of irritation crossed Tony's face, before he grinned mischievously. "Not a problem, it's not person specific. Manchurian Candidate here can take anyone he likes. Capsicle might not be a fan of the food, but I think Cricket would really enjoy the cuisine."
He turned to wink at you, making you blush. You couldn’t help but notice the scowl on Priya’s face, no matter how short lived it was and you knew you were about to meet your comeuppance when the glowering look she was shooting in your direction turned into a beaming smile.
"Jamie! It’s my turn, baby. I have a very special gift for you!" She hands him a thin square shaped gift wrapped in shiny golden wrapping paper. "Here!"
You felt a sudden weight on your chest, a feeling of dread washing over you. It felt like things were moving in slow motion, watching Bucky unwrap the gift. You didn’t know what you had been expecting when he pulled out a shiny record cover. It was as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you, except you were paralyzed. The color drained from your face as you realized what the album was.
‘The Very Best of Glenn Miller.’
Bucky’s eyes shone brightly as he dropped the wrapping paper and ran his flesh fingers over the cover reverently. "Priya," he gasped in a whisper. "I- it's perfect." Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest and giving her a long, passionate kiss. "I love it! I love you!"
You barely noticed Steve sideling up to you, you couldn't hear him asking if you were okay. That was your gift. It was yours! If you didn’t have the vinyl you’d bought and so lovingly wrapped in your hand, you’d think she had stolen it from you. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, every attempt you made felt futile, like the air around you had left the room. He had shared the same things with her, you thought he trusted you with his past, but you weren't as special as you thought you were.
Eventually you looked up when Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. He whispered, almost as though his words he was about to use were criminal. "Do you remember when we were talking last week? Before we went to pick up our gifts? You don’t think she overheard us… do you? And…"
In the end, it didn’t really matter. You knew in the moment that you’d lost Bucky forever. Everything felt far away, the room was suffocating, why were there so many people? Tears burned in your orbital sockets, drowning you from the inside out. You couldn’t face them anymore, seeing the happiness on Bucky’s face, knowing that someone else was responsible for that smile, that light inside him, was heartbreaking. Ultimately, you wanted him to be happy but you wanted to share that joy with him, you wanted to be the one to give it to him and watching that mantle being taken from you and bequeathed to another person was soul crushing. Gripping your present tightly, you slipped out of the room, Steve watching your retreating footsteps with sympathy, but knowing not to follow.
A few tears escaped as you found refuge in the kitchen, but you had no desire to explain red eyes and a blotchy nose to any of the other team members or party goers, so you wiped them away angrily, taking a few calming breaths before pouring yourself a strong drink. You sank onto a bar stool, shoving the record onto the chair to your right, you had no use for it anymore. There had barely been time for you to take 2-3 sips from your drink before Bucky popped his head into the room.
"Cricket? There you are!"
"Hey Buck! Having a good time?" You plastered a smile on your face, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
Deception in this case was a futile attempt, Bucky was well versed in the movements of your face. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," you lied. "Just getting a drink."
"There are plenty of drinks back there."
He looked searchingly into your eyes and the facade you had erected was crumbling. You looked away, dropping your head to try and hide your face with your hair.
"It was just a bit much, everyone there… I don’t know, I feel a little… overwhelmed."
Too much drain of the social battery, Bucky was familiar with that. He pulled out the chair on your left, almost giving you a heart attack because you had momentarily forgotten which chair you’d left the present on.
"If you want to give me my gift here, we can do it privately. Everyone else is done," Bucky suggested, leaning towards you.
The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. Suddenly you felt angry that he was there, why couldn’t he give you a moment to grieve? Constantly invading your space, reminding you of what you couldn’t have, dangling the carrot but keeping it just out of reach. "Well you already have the perfect gift from your girlfriend, what more do you need?" You couldn’t keep the bitterness out of your tone.
As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. But the damage was done. There was a deathly silence between you where you were afraid to look at your best friend.
"You know, I thought I would have you both in my life; my best friend and my girlfriend. I feel like you’re making me choose you over her and it’s not fair, Cricket! I’ve tried, I really have but you’re making it impossible! So you know what, I’m going to have to choose Priya. At least she bothered to put some effort into getting me a birthday gift. I can have a future with her."
The worst thing about his words were the disappointment and finality in his tone. And with that he left you alone with only your thoughts for company. A storm raged inside you, a maelstrom of emotions; anger, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, loss, just outright pain. How could he? How could he choose her over you? After everything you had been through together, the bond you had forged, the absolute faith and trust you had put in each other. Did it mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him?
Trudging back to your room, you sought comfort in your giant bed, hoping it would envelope you completely. Wrapping the duvet around your body and over your head, you buried your face in a pillow and allowed the tears to fall. Once the gates had opened, the trickle of tears became a flood as you sobbed into your pillow to muffle the sound.
Why did he have to choose? Why didn’t he choose you? The pain in your chest was unbearable, a physical ache that matched the emotional turmoil inside you. You had tried so hard to make things work, to give him a balance of your friendship with his relationship with Priya, but now it seemed like all your efforts had been in vain. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t with you.
As you lay there in your bed, the tears continued to flow, a never-ending stream of sadness and heartbreak. You felt like a piece of you had been ripped away, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its place. How could you move on from this? How could you ever trust anyone again, knowing that they could just choose someone else over you?
You sighed, you knew now that you would never be good enough for him. Everything you’d tried to hold on to, had done nothing but push him away. You remembered when you had first understood your feelings, you’d considered pulling away to protect yourself. But Bucky had reeled you back in, constantly asking if he had done something to hurt you. So you’d given in, telling yourself you didn’t want to hurt him. But in reality, it had been selfish, you had indulged in a fantasy and ended up hurting the man you loved and getting hurt in the process.
You startled as a door slammed shut nearby. It was Bucky’s bedroom door, you could hear Priya giggling and Bucky’s deep voice through the wall. Your body froze with shock, the last thing you needed right now was to listen to your best friend having sex with his girlfriend. You shoved your airpods into your ears and turned up one of your lo-fi playlists and closed your eyes.
The decision you should have made then, was far more clear to you now. Your friend and old superior officer from your S.H.I.E.L.D. team had repeatedly offered you the chance to teach with her at the newly formed Coulson Academy. She had taught you everything you knew and believed in your ability to impart the knowledge you’d gained to potential agents. It was time for you to take her up on this offer.
As you wiped away your tears and made a decision to move forward, you knew that it was time to focus on yourself and your own happiness. Bucky had made his choice, and now it was time for you to make yours. You couldn’t continue to dwell on what would never be, on the pain of rejection and heartbreak.
Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter
Tag list: @samodivaa @scoonsalicious @noonespecial90 @browneyedgrli @vicmc624 @cjand10 @capswife @julvrs @ordelixx @sashaisready @sebastians-love @belleofthebooks @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @rabbitrabbit12321 @love-isnt-greed @hhiggs @winters1917 @blackhawkfanatic @calwitch @learisa @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lillianacristina @mostlymarvelgirl @wintercrow @buckitostan @crist1216 @bisexualnikkisixx @robynjasp
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fan fiction#my best friend's girl
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
so my school has a black students art exhibit they put on once a year i think (I'm gonna try to submit the boar in the forest next year. maybe. we'll see. I don't make a lot of art that's explicitly about being black fsdfsdf) and i havent been able to stop by while the main gallery is open BUT there's this one work that's set up outside the gallery. it's a long lace wig on a mannequin with braids that splay out and go everywhere, it's relaly cool looking, but the best part is that the plaque next to it says noraml stuff yknow the title the author the medium BUT the title is "Never Just" and for a description all it says is "it is your choice to interact" AND ITS LIKE. OOOOH SHITTTT
YOU CAN TOUCH THE HAIR IF YOU WANT TO BUT YOU GOTTA THINK ABOUT IT. YOU GOTTA THINK ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS THE HISTORY OF OBJECTIFYING AND TOUCHING BLACK WOMENS HAIR. IT'S NEVER JUST HAIR. idk if I'm reading it right but if I am that is SOOOOO GOOD !!!
130 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
moonlittragedies
Believe ✨
ahmad-alwi-blog
Ahmad Alwi
trans--activism
How to not be transphobic
thisangrysilence-blog
This Angry Silence