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#all my brain is doing is static noise

marlenacantswim · 6 months

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"Benji needed my help." "I didn't need help, I needed assistance. It's a different thing."

not quite sure what possessed me to draw something as erratically complex as a gillysuit; there are so many other screencaps i could have referenced, but benji was just so effortlessly gorgeous in this moment, it's not like i had much of a choice.

#i was in such a hyperfixation brain/body static flowstate when i drew this that i kind of blacked out when it came time to color #so i actually don't remember what happened during that hour or so i spent finagling with all that noise; but uhhhh #clearly whatever dark force took me over knew what the fuck it was doing #running my mouth #made this with my hands #my artwork #simon pegg #benji dunn #mission: impossible #mi5 #mission impossible rogue nation

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locally-normal · 3 months

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Random superbowl induced brain noise.

What if we banned large sports teams?

Obviously this would be draconian authoritarianism, besides the point.

I think it would be neat if there were city teams and just, no state teams, no country wide competition. Screw the globalism and competitiveness of figuring out who's best, world cups and whatnot. It's enough that someone is best in a small city or across a few cities.

It's neat that people can make a living off playing sports, we can surely keep that without having people be millionaires from it.

Just an idle thought. I hear lots about how globalism makes it too hard to be recognized in any sphere.

#brain noise #British soccer has tiers afaik that you can move up and down and extend all the way down to like hobbyist clubs or something #maybe that's sufficient #Having a single static national league with no truly local component seems weird #like it's detached #idk I should go do my chores

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acesabo · 2 years

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for any and all curious: mental health's still pretty bad. sorry i'm not replying to anything but also getting messages is literally making my mental health worse and i love y'all so much and i take each message as a vehicle for love i just literally cannot currently reply and i'm sorry. i'm doing okay, my brain just really isn't doing well with People right now, and even trying makes my mental health tank. the cats are thriving. i wish you well, and read everything you send

#talkbox #this is a vague but a positive one and meant for several #weirdly i Feel fine. things are going well. i'm working on taking better care of myself and it's working out #but when i talk to anyone my brain goes *tv static noises*#i'm not even writing #i play exactly one game series and it's because i have ren to lean on and i've beaten it entirely before at least twice (it's borderlands)#i wake up. i do my silly little tasks. i sleep #anyway. i love you all and hope you're well

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 5 months

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change my mind - ln4

summary: inspired by 1D's song of the same title - are we friends or are we more?

warnings: f!reader, hints at anxiety and insomnia, that vegas crash, angst, miscommunication (it gets solved dw), swearing, maybe a little bit of awkwardness, fluff. also feel like it drops off towards the end so i might have to come back and edit it at some point

word count: 9.7k

Since the crash it felt as though you’d been holding your breath. Right from when the camera on the straight seemed to jolt from an unexpected impact; on the way to the medical centre; in the car to the hospital. In fact, it only felt like you’d released that breath when Lando had given you the key to his hotel room and you’d shut it behind you.

Then, and only then, it felt like you could breathe.

Your head thudded against the door, the view of The Strip visible even from where you were stood – the neon lights were difficult to miss in the night, even more so when the entire room was still shrouded in darkness. You inhaled through your nose, ensuring to fill your lungs with some much needed air, before breathing it out through your mouth.

Your heart was still racing, something squeezing in your chest, and the exhaustion seemed to blanket you in that very moment, your brain constantly replaying the sounds and the mangled sight of his car. It seemed intent, however, on showing you flickers of his face as he’d climbed out of the Medical Car, trying not to wince at the ache in his bones as his Dad pressed him into a hug or as any part of him made contact with the hospital bed.

In all honesty, you didn’t think you’d ever been so anxious before. Those paralysing seconds where the only thing heard on the radio was static just seemed to have occurred so long ago, but that one moment seemed to cement the dread poured into your chest from then on.

Until now, until he’d given you the key to his room, until your eyes seemed to find all the McLaren paraphernalia and kit thrown carelessly over the back of chairs, on hooks, folded neatly inside a suitcase. Then all of the tension you’d harboured, not wanting to overstep or interrupt the medical exams just to ask him if he was okay, to hold his hand – you weren’t even sure if the latter was for his sake or yours.

You sighed, pushing yourself off the door and flicking on the lights. The mess was even worse in the light, and it wasn’t just limited to McLaren merch – there were undies and socks (it was unclear if they were clean, and you weren’t about to figure that out) scattered about, random pairings of t-shirts and joggers near the open suitcase, but not in it.

You rolled your eyes, putting your bag on the desk, and reaching for the TV remote to switch on the F1 TV channel as background noise. You didn’t really know why he’d given you his key, but you supposed it could have had something to do with the look on your face, or how your hands had been a little shaky, or how you’d barely spoken a word to him – not for lack of him trying or anything: Lando had actively tried to ask you questions, but with all the medical staff and McLaren members surrounding him, that task had been a little difficult.

And the first thing that had sprung to mind when you’d stepped into the lift up to his room was to run him a bath because after that rather bruising session, it was probably the best soother, but now that you’d been faced with this absolute calamity (you’d seen teenage boys’ rooms tidier than this), you weren’t entirely sure how you could not at least help him pack – to an extent.

Clearing the space off the floors and making sure he slept in a bed not made out of his own clothes was a start.

You shrugged off your jacket and hung it on the back of the door before stepping over some clothes and opening the bathroom door. You’d prepared to be met with more remnants of a burgled wardrobe, but contrary to the living space, there was nothing in the bathroom except a Spider-Man wash bag – potions and lotions neatly stacked inside.

There were some bottles in the corner shelf in the tub, the hotel logo branded on the front, and after running the tap until the water started to get warmer, you put in the plug and poured in some foam before returning back to the living space.

Your eyes immediately seemed to zip to the TV above the desk, Ted Kravitz wandering down the paddock talking to someone holding a framed photo of…Valterri’s bum. You blinked, automatically moving to the kettle and flicking the switch on.

Coffee was a must for you to stay awake longer.

And it was then that you started to pick up some clothing off his floor, collating the articles on top of his bed and you’d made it through three quarters of the entire pile when the buzzer for the lock on the door went off.

It was Lando. Decked in a jacket definitely not his own, with the way it seemed to dwarf him: the sleeves had been haphazardly pushed up his forearms, probably to make use of his hands, and the body of the jacket hung past his hips.

When he turned to face the room after locking the door behind him, his eyes seemed to stick first on the empty floor before trailing to you, something soft. He had bags under his eyes, and you could tell he’d been wearing headphones in the meeting because his hair had flattened slightly in the middle.

You didn’t move from where you’d sat, but from the unreadable expression on his face and the way he seemed to hesitate, it had you questioning whether he’d intended for you to still be in his room when he came back – but then he wouldn’t have given you the key, surely?

His lips twitched, and that second-guessing seemed to vanish completely at his lame attempt to smile for you – even though it was clearly forced with the entire whirlwind of the entire race, but there was a hint of authenticity because of the softness in his eyes, and without even meaning to, you felt a smile begin to creep on your own face.

At that, he seemed to gain movement in his legs, and made his way to the desk, head snapping up to the TV for a brief second, before shedding the jacket and putting his key down.

It was his sluggish movements that seemed to have that knot of anxiety punching its way through your stomach once more (it had dwindled somewhat when he’d walked through the door), and you inhaled somewhat sharply, “Are you okay?”

It was the first word you’d spoken out loud, and the roughness of your voice seemed to shock both of you, because you blinked, and he spun on his heel, eyebrows raising. You felt yourself wince, and you swallowed out of instinct–

“Just a bit achy–Can you stand up a second, I just–” He sighed, cutting himself off and stepping forwards.

You furrowed your brows, placing the shirt in your hands on the bed, and doing as he said, and it was barely a second when–

Oh.

He’d almost instantly tugged you into him, his arms settling across your shoulders, his chin tucked against your temple. He was warm and soft, even despite the hard ridges you knew existed under his fireproof shirt. Something felt off, though, and it was with a hurried hum that you realised you hadn’t reciprocated it.

It was a bit of a shock, being hugged by Lando so tightly, so close. Even more so because neither of you had ever really touched before; there’d been the odd shoulder brush when you’d been standing next to each other, the odd purposeful hand touch when one of you had slapped the other’s out of the way – but it had never been this: his chin touching your temple and his hands strong across your back and shoulders, pulling you as close to him as he could manage.

And then you seemed to regain sense in your arms because you automatically seemed to reach one arm across his back and the other slung across his waist, head tilting a little upwards to somewhat nestle itself into the crook of his neck.

If you were being honest, hugs weren’t usually your kind of thing, but you could tolerate (a tad of an understatement) it from Lando, even in his post-three-lap-stint and slight stench of sweat.

You stayed like that for a while, the knot in your chest easing gradually now you’d got your hands on him, and by the time he spoke up, disrupting the peace that you’d managed to find, you felt like you had to blink yourself awake, “Feel better now. I’m sorry I ruined your first race.” He mumbled, stomach tensing as he spoke.

You took a moment, “You didn’t ruin it–”

“I did.”

You pulled yourself away from him, but almost like he’d practised it, his hands clasped onto yours, preventing you from moving too far away, and he brought them up to around shoulder height between you both, his fingers twiddling with yours to distract himself, “Well, then, I forgive you.” You shrugged.

His hands were slightly rough to touch, and a little colder than yours, and you tried not to let the absentminded way he was playing with your hands cloud your brain because it was distracting, especially with the way his thumb seemed intent on stroking repetitive patterns across the back of your hand. Not to mention the way his eyes seemed to flit between your mouth and your eyes, as though he wanted to watch you speak and commit it to his memory, as you spoke.

It sent your blood thrumming a little.

He nodded slowly, as though he was digesting your words, but he took too long to say something else so you said the other thing that had been on the tip of your tongue, “I’d have lost interest in it anyway, ‘cos you weren’t driving.”

He smirked at that, “No you wouldn’t have.”

He was right – to an extent. The only positive about the Vegas track was that the drivers were racing in the Championship and sport you’d been following closely for years. But other than the investment in the championship, that was about where your interest in that specific race ended – with Lando’s crash.

“Well, I’d have rather gone with you than sit in your garage without you on-site.” You admitted, honesty dripping from every word, “Especially because I probably wouldn’t have known if you were okay if I stayed.”

He swallowed, your eyes unconsciously watching his throat bob, “How come?”

You pulled your joined hands down, shrugging and avoiding eye contact in order to actually gain the courage to say what had immediately come to mind.

Why was it so difficult for you to actually say what you felt? God forbid you actually want to let him know what he meant.

“You’re important and I care about you.” You rushed out, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously.

When he didn’t say anything you pulled your hands out of his and were about to change the entire conversation back to the bath you’d run him when his eyes crinkled out of the corner of your eyes. He had one of those cheeky smiles on his face, like he was aware he probably shouldn’t have been smiling like that at that moment in time, but thinking that only seemed to make him worse. And when you fully turned to look at him again, you were struck with the thought that you’d never known anyone to smile with their entire being like Lando Norris seemed to do unfailingly and everyday.

His happiness was just so infectious that it was part of the reason you liked him so much – but it also made you want to…protect it, you guessed. And when he stopped smiling earlier, after you’d been told to meet him in the medical centre, the world seemed to shake, because he was very rarely ever smiling.

He didn’t stop smiling, even when you looked straight at him, not impressed with his silence in the slightest and huffing to let him know.

“What?” You asked, one eyebrow raised and slightly self-conscious of what you were doing and wearing and what you probably looked like after the day you’d had.

He shrugged, shaking his head, smile never drooping one bit, “You care about me.”

It wasn’t a question, more so a statement of shock – repetition to drill it into his head.

You nodded, swallowing, slightly embarrassed at having to say it again, “Yeah.”

He nodded this time, pushing himself onto his tiptoes for a second, “I care about you too. You’re important to me.”

You won’t deny that your heart did a little skip at his words, or that your cheeks threatened to blossom with heat, or that hearing him say those words to you didn’t send your pulse spiralling a little out of control.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, being this vulnerable to someone not related to you. It was weird, but because of who it was and because of the circumstances, it felt oddly right.

“That’s nice.” You muttered, crossing your arms and avoiding looking at him.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. It wasn’t as though he’d confessed his undying love for you or anything, but it was nice to hear. You knew where you stood with him.

“It is.” He agreed.

There was a beat of silence, and you took the liberty of changing the subject before it could get too awkward too quickly, “I ran you a hot bath, by the way. It felt like the right thing to do after….”

“Thank you.” His tone was a little sombre, but still every bit sincere. A cloud seemed to hang over the both of you for a second, “Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you when everything went–”

“You don’t have to keep apologising.” You breathed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and resuming some folding to give yourself something to do.

“But I do–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You laughed a little, immediately dropping your expression to correct yourself, “With respect.”

Lando smiled a little at that, “If you insist, but–” You groaned, rolling your eyes, “I just want to check in and make sure I didn’t scare you, y’know, would you still come to another race?”

You blinked, “Course I would.”

There wasn’t really a doubt about it. The scare of the day had worn off in the span of your conversation, it was just that period of not knowing, and the fact that a TV screen didn’t do the cars justice in the speed. They went so much faster than you initially expected.

“Good.” Then, “Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah, it was just a lot, that’s all. Like, the impact, the broken car, then you were talking about everything that hurt but somehow you weren’t injured? I don’t know.” You sighed in resignation, “Do you ever get scared in the car?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, “The day I get scared is the day I stop driving. Fear in the car makes you crazy.”

“What about when you lose control and you know you’re gonna crash out?”

You watched him closely as his throat bobbed and he slowly stepped over to the bathroom doorframe, leaning against it to look at you thoughtfully, “There’s definitely a moment where my heart sort of skips a beat, kind of like when you miss a step on the stairs, but the adrenalin doesn’t really let me get scared at that moment. It’s scary when I watch it back and realise if I’d have been a metre or so closer I might not be here. But I don’t like thinking about it if it doesn’t happen.”

You paused the folding, “When you said your heart does that skip, can you think or is your mind just blank?”

“Blank. It happens so fast. I know I have to move my hands, though, but I think that’s partly just instinct driven into us from when we were kids. I don’t really have to think about that, but–” He pulled a face, running a hand over his chest and huffing a laugh, “If it’s fast I’m thinking ‘fuck, this is gonna hurt’.”

That made you laugh.

Then he looked over his shoulder and you stood up, taking the hint.

“Wai–What’re you doing?” He stood up straight, watching as you made your way over to the desk to pick up your bag.

You pulled a face, pointing to the door, “I’m gonna go, and you’re gonna have a bath.”

“No.” He shook his head defiantly, walking over to you with a frown on his face.

You blinked, “Yes.”

“No.”

“I didn’t realise that when bathtime was mentioned that you’d stomp your foot and pout at me.” You smothered a smile behind your hand, eyes sparkling with amusement as Lando went to defend himself, only to realise that he had in fact reverted to pouting (as far as an adult man could when sulking).

“No.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I thought you might stay over tonight?”

You froze. Then promptly unfroze, “Why?”

“For a sleepover, I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think—” You halted, taking in the way his face seemed to fall slightly, “Do you want me to stay?”

You didn’t not want to. You’d admit that much to yourself. The idea of sharing a bed with someone you trusted platonically and had a crush on was about as appealing as the guaranteed night of uninterrupted sleep (that didn’t run the risk of being crushed, someone breathing heavily in your ear, or someone talking in their sleep).

The corner of his mouth twitched as he tilted his head, “I’d like for you to stay, but I want you to say you want to stay because you want to, not just because I want you to and you feel obligated to stay.”

You took another step forward, about to say yes, before he interrupted again.

“Um–” His voice was slightly high in pitch, a sure sign that he’d begun to panic slightly, but before you let him succumb to (clear) disappointment (it did wonders for your ego) and potentially embarrass himself, you cut over him.

“I’m gonna go get my PJ’s–” he grinned, “and then I’ll come back here–” began taking off the legs of his racing suit, “for a sleepover, or whatever, sound good?”

“Sounds incredible, darling.” He winked, throwing you a charming smirk that had you standing in the doorway (for longer than what was probably deemed appropriate to gather yourself), and he turned into the bathroom, disappearing from sight.

***

Walking back into Lando’s room with wet hair, a clean face, the PJ’s you’d packed (not expecting a sleepover), your current book, and a hotel robe, all felt very intimate. It might have had something to do with the fact that you knew he’d also be freshly washed with wet hair and wearing his PJ’s and in bed — waiting for you.

And when you rounded the corner after buzzing yourself in, Lando was sitting against the headboard, one arm slung over the top of his head and his other hand clutching his phone. He must have been anticipating your arrival if the way he threw his phone further down the covers was any indication, and the way he smiled at you, dimples on show and everything, had you turning to avoid looking at him and hanging the robe over the back of the bathroom door.

The boy is too cute.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned, unconsciously rubbing a palm down his arm and still maintaining a mischievous smile.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” You threw over your shoulder before climbing onto the bed.

He breathed a laugh, “Almost. Cute PJ’s, by the way.” He trailed his eyes meaningfully down your figure as you threw the duvet over yourself, getting comfy.

You’d not packed sexy PJ’s by any means. In fact, you hardly owned a proper pair of pyjamas, and rather just threw on a random t-shirt with whatever bottoms were comfiest and warmest, hence the fact you’d packed a pair of faux-boxer shorts and were wearing a Quadrant Bleach tee that Ria had given you a while ago.

“Rumour has it you couldn’t decide what merch to give me so Ria took it into her own hands.” You gestured to your shirt, smiling rather pointedly in his direction. He squirmed a little, and it was then, as he curled in on himself slightly, that the duvet fell around his torso from where it had been pulled right up to his chin to keep a draught out.

He was fucking shirtless. And when that seemed to register in your head and through your eyes, you were squirming. His pecs, bronze skin and moles were on view and you suddenly had no clue how to act.

Luckily for you, Lando seemed to have the same problem for whatever reason.

“Yeah. I had one of pretty much everything lined up for you, but it wouldn’t have been ‘financially viable’ apparently.”

Oh. You felt your brows shoot up in pleasant surprise.

“I didn’t know that.”

“That was the point.” Lando said, rather self-deprecating, “It looks good on you, though.”

A ‘thank you’ was on the tip of your tongue, but before it could slip out, your brain seemed to take on another direction, one much bolder than what was characteristic of you, “I don’t know, I think LN4 stuff’d look nicer.”

It shocked him as much as it shocked you — that much you could tell by the way that his eyebrows seemed to disappear under the damp curls that had hung across his forehead from where he’d clearly initially combed them backwards. His mouth seemed to drop a little, and his cheeks reddened.

But you barely had time to school your own face into one of confidence to fully own what you just said before he was spurting words out himself.

“Wanna test that theory?”

And he was climbing out of bed before you could even utter a word of protest.

You’d never been so thankful that he didn’t have eyes at the back of his head because when he took a step away from the bed, clad in nothing but black boxer briefs that clung almost maddeningly to his thighs, you practically had a heart attack. It was hard to rip your eyes away, if you were being honest.

But the very second he turned back to face you, throwing a long-sleeved tee in your direction, you somehow managed to look at him without even a smidge of blush on your face or without wearing an expression that assembled one of sheer awe.

Then you blinked and the t-shirt was hitting you in the face. It was a black 100 Race one.

A new one.

And because it hit you in the face the first thing you noticed was the smell. Now, Lando Norris was not a smelly person, at all. In fact, that t-shirt smelled so unfairly divine that you wanted to eat it. Melt it into a smoothie and drink it. In a normal way.

You had it in your hands and were looking pointedly at Lando for about seven seconds until he got the hint to turn around and close his eyes.

In return for his previous goodwill, you threw the Quadrant shirt at his back and climbed out of bed to assess it in the mirror. It was a slightly smaller fit than the other t-shirt, so it didn’t hang past your hips, or over your hands like you’d expected.

Oddly enough, it was almost a perfect fit.

Lando walked into the background of the mirror, catching your eye as he nodded appreciatively.

“Better than Bleach?” You asked, pushing the sleeves up to your elbow before climbing back under the covers.

His answer was him folding the Bleach t-shirt neatly and placing it on the desk.

“Way better.”

There wasn’t anything said for a while after that. Lando got back under the covers, snuggling down into his pillow and browsing through his phone, while you opened your book and kept your bedside light on to read for a while.

Until Lando seemingly couldn’t take the silence and turned his phone off, rolling towards the middle of the bed on his front and looking up at you.

He was content on letting you read for a while, eyes fluttering shut every now and again as though he was trying to fight sleep, when he muttered something under his breath.

“Sorry?” You bent your head, finishing reading the sentence before turning to see him blinking slowly, lashes kissing his cheeks as he rested his face against his elbow.

“Do you read every night?” He repeated, not in the least bit offended you weren’t paying him attention.

You hummed, nodding, slouching further into the mattress.

“How come?” He asked, fingers stretching to gently twiddle a small section of your hair before dropping it.

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes, and reading helps.”

“How?”

You shrugged, “It gets my brain to shut up.”

“Does anything else help?” He mumbled, eyebrow twitching.

You wanted to say yes. That some other things could help, but for one, you didn’t have the results to back up that claim, and two, you weren’t about to suggest trying it to Lando.

“I don’t think so.”

Lando hummed and didn’t say anything else, giving you the opportunity to switch off your bedside lamp, shrouding the whole room in darkness. Despite the coolness of the Vegas nights, the heat of another body under a duvet was enough to send your skin tingling with goosebumps and bury yourself deeper under the covers.

A gentle tugging on your hair once you’d settled was what had your eyes opening.

You hadn’t really been trying to sleep, per se, but Lando hadn’t so much as moved a muscle since you’d switched off the light, and his silence had you assuming he’d been trying to sleep, at least until his fingers had delicately begun twisting your damp hair.

If you hadn’t found it so shocking, it would have been soothing.

It took a while for your eyes to adjust, but once they did, all you could make out was the faint outline of Lando’s head and the gleam of his eyes from the light from The Strip.

Your eyes immediately scrunched shut, unable to tell if he thought you were asleep.

Then—“pretty” he breathed, your heart stuttering wildly in your chest.

He thought you were sleeping.

And he stopped twirling your hair, nestling his cheek into the pillow.

***

You woke up early and with Lando’s arm slung lazily across your waist, one of his legs stuck across yours. You froze momentarily, not having any recollection of exactly when you’d both ended up with him half draped over you, but considering you couldn’t remember much after hearing his whisper, you assumed you must have just gone right to sleep.

Which meant this happened in the night.

You tilted your head fractionally, eyes slipping over to where Lando was now on his stomach, cheek squished right into the pillow and a crease between his brows.

And then that short moment was interrupted by something uncomfortably occurring in your chest.

Your free hand (the other was sandwiched between your hip and Lando’s, nicely toasty of you did say so yourself) blindly reached for your bedside table, scrabbling at an uncomfortable angle until you found your phone. It took a while to manage to slide it across the wood for you to pick it up, and you groaned at the time displayed on the screen.

08:31.

You didn’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours, and had already mostly packed in your room. The only issue apart from your current predicament was the rumbling of your stomach, prompting some encouragement to get out of bed.

Which you absolutely did not want to do.

It was warm and you were being cuddled by a sleepy Lando, you weren’t about to risk waking him up. Even though it was your first race, you knew how exhausted he usually was the day after.

So you opted for scrolling on your phone, not before removing your hand from between you both and instead using it to hold the forearm he’d thrown over your waist.

The hotel corridors started to get a little noisier, doors shutting and opening, footsteps thumping, at around half nine/ten o’clock.

It must have been the neighbouring slam of the door that had Lando jolting awake — jumping as though he’d been thrown down the stairs in a dream. You stifled a laugh, trying not to smile at his rapid blinking, until his eyes settled on you, brows accusatory when he realised you were on the brink of laughing at him.

He groaned, slamming his face back onto the pillow and yawning, his arm briefly tensing as he stretched.

“How long have you been awake?” He mumbled, tilting his head so as to not muffle his words against the pillow.

“About an hour.”

He frowned, removing his arm from your hold and flipping himself onto his back, yawning, “How come you didn’t wake me up?”

You blinked, “Because it was half eight and you were asleep.”

He nodded, scratching the back of his head, “You hungry?”

“Yeah. You want to get breakfast downstairs, or–”

“Room service is good with me.”

Lando turned to hide his smile as he reached for the phone. Selfishly he wanted to stay in bed longer – the outside world was chilly – and there was the added bonus that you were there. Obviously he’d want more time with just the two of you, because outside this room, you guys barely got time for a conversation without being interrupted.

That was excluding the scheduled takeaways you both had every time he was back in town (it had started out as a joke because you were both so busy and no one seemed to be able to decide on specific dates, so you’d taken it into your own hands and…here you were), and he suspected that was when the more serious feelings started.

So, no, he’d rather not go downstairs where other people would interrupt and he’d barely get to talk to you.

“D’you know what you–What’re you doing?” He furrowed his brows,, about to hand you the menu when he stopped short of everything and watched you wander over to the front of the room.

Out of bed. Wearing his shirt.

Looking fucking incredible.

And he was thinking he could probably get used to this.

But his brain was going haywire because he didn’t want you to leave.

You said nothing, which did virtually nothing to ease his sense of panic, until you held up the TV remote, running a tired hand through your hair before tiptoeing back to the bed and sliding back under the covers like you belonged there.

“No.” You hummed, taking the menu from him and simultaneously flicking through the TV guide for something to watch.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” He found himself asking, noting the still-sleepy look about you – but not necessarily the bad kind of sleepy. You looked well-rested with rosy cheeks and bright eyes.

Pretty.

“Yeah. It was cosy.” You flashed him a warm smile, eye contact brief before going back to the menu, “What about you?”

“I’ll probably just have pancakes–”

“No,” you breathed a laugh, “Did you sleep well?”

Oh. He could feel his cheeks redden at the mistake, and nodded. In truth, he didn’t think he’d ever slept so well, even despite being a small bundle of nerves from the mere knowledge that you’d actually changed your mind and said yes to a sleepover, and the fact that you were less than three feet away. That was ignoring when he’d woken up to find out you’d been awake for so long and not wanted to wake him up or move him from where he’d (rather sheepishly) managed to hug you in his sleep.

“Cosy.” Was all he said, taking the menu back from you, “What’ll it be for you?”

“Pancakes, too, please.” You grinned at him, turning back to the TV.

He nodded, numbly reaching for the phone on his bedside table and rattling off the order, making sure to add in a glasses of milk and orange juice to accompany it.

When he’d finished and turned back to the TV, to you, there was a question written on your face as you pointed to the TV.

The Hangover.

“When in Vegas, right?” You asked, raising a brow and awaiting his answer.

He’d seen that movie a million times, had even watched it on Thursday (he’d never tell you that), but there was something about the hope and excitement written on your face that had him nodding along, not wanting to disappoint you this early in the morning.

God, he felt so bad when he crashed yesterday.

Not only had he ruined the race experience for you, but he’d worried you. You hadn’t even needed to say anything after the whole debacle (he hadn’t actually given you a real answer when you’d asked him why he wanted you to come with him to the hospital and whatever) for him to read it on your face.

He’d had every intention of whispering reassurances and holding your hand or doing something to have you closer than the edges of a constant small crowd, but he’d been strapped down and people had been talking over each other, and he just hadn’t had the chance.

Until the car ride back to the paddock. Sure, Jon was sitting next to him, but he’d kindly and rather respectfully chosen to ring Zak and give him an update, and then Lando took that brief moment of opportunity to hold your hand. He didn’t say anything, but almost as soon as his hand had touched yours he felt better – lighter. And he noticed that the weight on your shoulders and the crease between your brow lessened.

He sighed wistfully, tuning back into the film, but it was barely five minutes later when there was a knock on the door.

Room service.

He stopped you from moving, taking it upon himself to answer the door (he couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or not, but he swore he could feel your eyes on him as he walked past the end of the bed).

He cracked the door open, eyes on the floor where he expected the tray to be, only to look down and see a pair of trainers that most definitely belonged to Max.

His eyes shot up, and he hid himself behind the door, careful of you back around the corner, but wanting to shield himself from any passerbyers in the corridor – a photo of him answering the door in nothing but his undies would be pretty embarrassing – and glared at his friend, confusion clearly evident on his face.

Max was grinning like a madman, trying and failing to sneak a look behind Lando, “So?” He whispered, and Lando felt himself already getting irritated at the clear insinuation of that one singular word.

“No.” He answered, closing his eyes briefly and resting his temple against the door.

Max was quiet, “No.” He repeated, an element of disbelief etched on his face.

“No.” Lando groaned quietly, “Is that all?”

“No.” Max hissed, “Why not?”

Lando felt himself shrug, “Didn’t come up.”

Max blinked, rather frustrated, “You were supposed to make it come up.”

“Well I didn’t.”

“Clearly.” Max folded his arms across his chest and Lando rolled his eyes, “How come you’re only wearing your boxers?”

Lando looked down, brows furrowing, “What’s wrong with boxers?”

“The lack of other clothes? You always wear PJ’s.” Lando watched as the penny dropped in Max’s head, his eyes widening and his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. Then he frowned, “Show off.”

Lando shook his head, “And what about it? I just wanted to be sure.”

“And are you?”

Lando chose not to say anything, just threw a cautious look behind his shoulder – one which prompted Max to jump to his reassurances.

“She does, okay?” He whispered softly, a pitiful look on his face, “I know that because of the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. She cares about you, man.” There was a pause, and Lando was too nervous to even look straight at Max, so he chose to focus on a spot above his head, completely missing the way Max hesitated, “She told P.”

Lando felt his neck practically snap to look at Max, nervousness completely abolished. His heart started thrumming with anticipation and the only thing he was capable of doing was staring so hard at Max the man’s skin prickled, “What?” Lando breathed, hoping he hadn’t just heard things in a mad craze.

Max screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t be telling you this–”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Hagrid, but the situation is kinda dire here.” Lando cut in.

Max rolled his eyes, “Yeah, it’s kinda hard not to notice you’re a fucking chicken.”

“I’m on the brink of an anxiety attack.”

“Get a grip.” Max glared, half wanting to smack some sense into Lando and the other half wanting to laugh at the petrified look on his face.

“I can’t.” Lando threw the door open a little further out of frustration, hands going to grip Max’s shoulders in desperation.

Max breathed. He blinked. And then Lando thought he made an expression that looked as though he’d just suffered the most painful bout of trapped gas, “Don’t tell anyone–”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

“But P told me that they had a girls night with Ria, and they got to talking about guys, and P asked her if she had her eye on anyone and she got all blushy–”

“Get on with it.” Lando clenched his jaw, eyes darting down the corridor.

“I’m getting to it. Can she hear us? Actually, it doesn’t matter – but she got blushy and quiet and it turns out she’s liked you since we all went out for dinner the day after Silverstone, y’know, because she couldn’t go to the race, and you guys sat next to each other and she just liked you.”

(You could hear every word of what was being said.)

Lando felt his lips part in shock. Silverstone was towards the start of the season and there was one race left of the season.

July, August, September, October, November. You’d liked him for five months and hidden it from him that well? Since July? You guys could have been together-together since July?

Lando could feel his brain start to explode. His thoughts were getting louder–since July?–and Max’s face wasn’t doing anything to help it. If anything his big eyes were making it worse.

“Yeah, I know, it’s hard to believe.” Max muttered, and it seemed to snap Lando out of his shock-induced reverie.

“Oi.” Lando defended, “Did she say what made her like me?” He slowly took his hands off his friends shoulders.

Max nodded, “You talked to her the whole night. You were kind, funny, endearing, cute, nice to the waiter. Apparently she felt kind of bad you didn’t talk much to anyone else–”

“I didn’t talk to anyone else because I really liked her already.” Lando whispered, trying not to smile.

Max smirked, “Well, you need to tell her that, not me.”

Lando nodded, “Yeah. Bye.” And shut the door in Max’s face, taking a second to breathe and plant a small, non-suspicious-granting smile on his face before bounding around the corner to his side of the bed, flashing you a wider grin as he threw himself on the bed.

You swallowed, anxiety twirling in your stomach. You knew that telling P that stuff was likely to get back to Max, and then there was a chance that Max had told Lando – but you were shocked to find that Max had just chosen to hold onto that information out of loyalty to you. It warmed you, knowing you’d got a friend in Max, but it was also a little frustrating because you’d specifically been counting on P telling Max telling Lando. Maybe put a few feelers out.

And there was nothing reported back, so you just assumed Lando didn’t like you like that.

But he apparently did?

It was a tough thing to accept (a good thing to accept, you guessed), but not at all what you expected. You’d been planning for heartbreak (not that you'd planned to tell him), but now within the span of a two minute conversation, you had liberty to not expect disappointment.

And that was a little intimidating.

But Lando hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d put himself back on the bed, not bothering to get back under the covers considering it had been Max at the door, not room service–

“Who was it?” You asked, wanting to keep up the pretence of not having heard every word of their private conversation.

Lando hummed, one arm draped over his hair as he ripped his eyes away from the screen, “Sorry?”

He was looking at your mouth when you spoke, “Who was at the door?”

Then his eyes zipped to yours, “Just Max, he wanted to know if we were having breakfast downstairs. Sent him on his way.”

You nodded.

You could mention what you just heard, ask him if he remembered the dinner out. No, not subtle enough. He’d clock onto it immediately.

But you couldn’t just not say something.

Your hands darted out to fiddle with the edge of the duvet, where it was tucked around your torso. You weren’t even paying attention to the film anymore. You don’t know how long you let your mind run rings around your anxiety, but it was Lando’s hand creeping closer towards yours out of the corner of your eyes that had your head quietening. You watched him push his hand across the covers until it got within a centimetre of yours.

You could feel the warmth from his hand radiating on your skin, and his hesitation was clearly an opportunity for you to pull your hand away.

So you placed your palm on top of his upturned one. And he closed his fingers over your knuckles.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

You couldn’t look at him, but you could feel his concerned gaze burn against your cheek, “Yeah, just thinking.” You took a breath, looking up at him, “Do you ever wish we could have met earlier?”

He was nodding before you’d even finished talking, his entire face sincere in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen, “All the time. I think meeting you earlier would have just made my life a lot easier.”

You tilted your head, squeezing his hand as you felt some colour rush to your cheeks, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, “You make me feel calm, like, I look at you and I just feel better.”

He was looking at you like he was expecting you to say something back immediately, but your mind had gone blank.

So blank.

And then you felt his hand slowly slipping from your grip, his shoulders moving back to the centre of the bed from he’d leaned across to hold your hand, and you squeezed his hand, not wanting him to move away. You just needed a second to gather your thoughts.

“I need t–”

A knock at the door sounded.

Lando’s eyes darted from you to the door, back and forth, clearly torn. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you were about to say something serious – something that would change the entire dynamic of your relationship – but the interruption…

And at the thought of cold food after your stomach had been growling for the past hour, you made the decision for him. You unlaced your hands, pushing yourself off the bed and opening the door before you could change your mind or look at his face.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of breakfast, and nothing but an awkward, tense silence seemed to envelope the room.

The next time you saw him was when the group had decided to go for a last minute stroll, one of the stops being the shopping centre in the Venetian. Lando was walking with Max,;Ria with you behind them, and the rest of the group were trailing behind, occasionally laughing loudly. They were pretty raucous, and you and Ria were far enough behind Max and Lando that they couldn’t hear what you were talking about.

Ria had linked your arms, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she pulled you closer after Lando had thrown another anxious glance over his shoulder to check on you, “Lando keeps checking you out.” She whispered.

You shook your head, momentarily biting the inside of your cheek, “He’s making sure I don’t run off.”

She frowned, looking back at Lando, who seemed to spin quickly after getting caught, “Why would you run off?”

You shrugged, trying not to think too much about it, “I overheard him and Max talking this morning about him liking me, and then Max told him about that night when we slept over at P’s place–”

“Yeah, because you wanted P to tell Max to tell Lando–” Ria nodded along.

“Exactly. Anyway, it turns out Max never told Lando, so since July, Lando’s been clueless about it all, and we had sort of a chat when he came back, and I was going to tell him–” Ria shot you a look, “I was, because if i didn’t tell him then, I never would’ve.” You groaned, “But then room service came and we haven’t talked since. But I think he knew I was going to say something, but–I don’t know.”

Ria seemed to think about it for a second, “He probably thinks you changed your mind.” She muttered.

You nodded, “I know, that’s the thing. I chickened out of telling him and then I thought he’d think I changed my mind, and then my brain seems to want to tell me that because he thinks I don’t like him anymore he won’t like me anymore, even though he’s not like that. At all. But now I can’t tell him because there’s people everywhere.”

Ria patted your arm, pulling out her phone, “Do you know what you’re gonna say to him?”

“No, I’m hoping it’ll come to me in the moment.” Even the thought of it sent a knot of anxiety plummeting in your stomach.

“Okay, this is what’s gonna happen: when we get to the shopping centre, everyone will want to go to the craziest shop they see first, okay? You say you want to get a drink first, and Max’ll get Lando to go with you.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“I’ll text Max. You have to promise you’ll do it, though. Everyone needs to be put out of their misery.”

You raised a sceptical brow, “Everyone?”

She nodded, “Neither of you are subtle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

As it happened, Ria’s theory was right. About seven people made an immediate beeline for the nearest shop with lights in the front and an array of weird things in the window (in all honesty, you were too nervous to even pay attention to what it was, it could have just been any high street shop).

You turned to Ria, “I’m gonna go get a coffee, I’ll meet you back here?”

She nodded, finding Max, who seemed to be on the lookout for her, and winked.

You took a deep breath, already beginning to walk away from the group. You’d all craned over a map on the way in so you knew vaguely which direction you were heading in, and when a hurried pair of footsteps jogged closer, your nerves seemed to only get worse.

Then Lando stepped next to you, and oddly enough, the anxiety you’d been holding onto all morning seemed to evaporate. And then it seemed to come crashing back in when you actually took in the expression on his face.

There was a slight downwards curve to his mouth, and his eyes were wide, brows furrowed. He looked a little frantic. And sad.

You wanted to drag your hand down his face and wipe it off.

In fact, you hated it so much that you stopped mid-step and grabbed his forearm without even thinking about it, “Is everything oka–”

“Are we still friends?” He breathed, eyes darting around your face.

You blinked, mouth parting at the loaded question. If you said yes you’d basically be rejecting him and that was the last thing you wanted to do; if you said no, you didn’t know what would happen. He could take it the wrong way and assume you didn’t want to be anything at all, but you were going to tell him – you had to, you promised Ria.

Even if it meant breaking his heart a little bit first, it’d have the best outcome.

You turned back around briefly, eyes scanning for a more private alcove, and dragged him to the nearest corridor, out of any possible stray eyes. It was a bit busy today, with the race last night–

You pushed him against the wall gently, hands wringing together. He slumped, clearly trying not to get too defeated by your silence after he’d spoken. But then his eyes dropped to your hands and he straightened, something unreadable on his face.

“I don’t want to still be friends.” You said, sighing and crossing your arms.

It was his turn to speak now. You seemed incapable of saying anything else at that moment.

He swallowed, brows furrowing. His face looked less despondent, so you took that as a win. He seemed to have been expecting you to say something like that (that was why he phrased the question in such a way!) because he pushed himself off the wall a little, “In what way?”

You rolled your eyes, “In an I like you way.”

“Romantically?” He took another step closer, a cheeky smile starting to curve at his mouth, and you said nothing at him.

Only this time it was of your own will.

He huffed a laugh, “I just need to hear you say it.”

“Romantically.”

It felt like a relief getting those words off your chest to the person you needed to say them to.

He seemed to think so too, because he grinned. Wider than he had before – like he had done last night, when he’d smiled with his entire being. His eyes crinkled in that way you adored, and his smile seemed ot reach his ears, “Thank fuck.” He breathed.

Then that was all he said.

You raised your brow, “Dude.” You encouraged, gesturing to him to go on.

He pulled a face, “Don’t ‘dude’ me.”

“You haven’t given me a reason not to ‘dude’ you.”

“I like you too, dickhead.” He grumbled, “A little less than before you called me ‘dude’, though.”

“I’m liking you less by the second.” You stated, trying not to laugh at the situation, “Romantically?” You checked, echoing his earlier question and also mocking it slightly.

“Romantically.” He clarified.

You both went silent, just drinking each other up in a way you hadn’t been able to five minutes ago. He looked gorgeous, as per usual. His hair was a little messier than it usually would be, probably a combination of the last-second plans and the fact that he wasn’t going to be showing his face on international TV. His face looked less restrained, like because he knew he didn’t have to hold back from looking at you everywhere, it was a weight lifted from his chest. His eyes were still smiling, glimmering a little, and his smile was softer – more secretive. His hands were flexing at his sides, as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

His hoodie hugged his shoulders, practically begging you to run your hands over them – but you didn’t. He looked snug, again, and before you could restrain yourself, you reached out and took one of his hands. His response was immediate, clasping his hand around yours and looking at you with a burning intensity. Only, you used your other hand to pull up his sleeve.

His forearm was tanned beautifully, veins completely visible. You’d never been allowed to just twist his arm around to your desire and simply look. You swallowed, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and he caught it with his teeth.

You nudged your head closer, his nose softly bumping against your cheek.

Blood seemed to pump through your veins even faster than it already was. You could feel where you’d both stepped into each other, where his legs were pressed against yours, where your hands were still gripping, your other hand slipping off his forearm.

You could feel his breath tickle your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut briefly before snapping open. He was still looking at you, and in that split second he used the leverage of your conjoined hands to pull you even closer. You stumbled a little into him, tripping over his trainers, chests colliding. Your free hand slapped out to stop your falling, landing directly on top of his shoulder to brace yourself.

If anything, his little pull seemed to work because you were closer than before. All you had to do was lean closer–

“I want to kiss you but I want to take you on a date first.” He whispered, sucking the inside of his cheek nervously.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “Because you’re a gentleman.”

He nodded, leaning closer despite his words. His eyes seemed to be zeroed in on your lips, and your mouth curved into a smile almost instantly at that observation. Then he smiled, nodding, your foreheads touching, “Yeah.”

“What kind of gentleman would you be if I wanted you to kiss me but you said no?” You breathed.

“Not a very good one.”

Lando’s lips were softer than you imagined, but there was a soul-crushing desperation behind it – a need, maybe the thought that someone could walk past the end of the corridor at any second and ruin this little pocket of relief, so he needed to make it last. You were eager, meeting him with an equal force that seemed to knock the air out of your lungs and weaken your knees – but his hold on you, he was touching you everywhere: one hand was on your cheek and laced in your hair, the other holding your back and pushing him against you – and you were practically leaning on him.

You didn’t know if it was the culmination of pent up feeling being released, or the fact that you were kissing him, but it felt euphoric; the way you seemed to move together was almost as if it had been rehearsed – which was insane, if you really thought about it. But you couldn’t, because he was practically kissing the breath out of your lungs, and you don’t know when it happened but you were pressing against him roughly, one hand on the back of his neck and the other wound in his hair.

And then you pulled away, breathing heavily. Your pulse was hammering and your blood was singing. You knew your cheeks would be red and your lips would be swollen, hair messy, but in that moment you couldn’t honestly find it within yourself to care.

And then he smirked, taking in your appearance.

His hair was practically everywhere. It looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a deep sleep on one side of his face, and his cheeks were flushed, as were the tips of his ears and the slither of chest you could see from where his hoodie had slipped and been tugged.

Then you smacked him on the arm – not very hard. More of a light tap. He hissed nonetheless, smirk dropping but eyes still glazed over and watching you with what you now knew was lovesick intrigue.

“You’re a fucking chicken.” You pointed at him, “We could have been doing that last night.”

His expression dropped, eyes refocusing, “No, we could have been doing that since July.”

You tilted your head, “Maybe August, because I would have had to actually make sure I liked you.”

His expression dropped a little, an inquisitive smile still on his face, “Did you hear that entire conversation with Max?”

“It was hard to miss.”

“Oh.” He nodded, a smile on his face as he looped one hand around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You thought he was pulling you in for another kiss, your hand pressed comfortably against his chest, and he was an eyelash-length away from it when he stopped.

You were about to groan.

“What do you mean you had to make sure you liked me?” His brow was arched, but his tone wasn’t malicious or suspicious in any way. If anything it was coated with a thinly veiled layer of curiosity.

You shrugged, “Crushes go away. This kind of seemed to stick.”

“Lucky for me.” He kissed you, hands pressed against your cheeks in a display of faux passion and drama, before letting you go, hands not leaving you or letting you stray too far.

“So you never said when you started to like me.” You murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact.

“Now is not the time to get shy on me.” You breathed, a hand going to hold his sleeve.

“I’m not shy, I just—” He shook his head, self-deprecation evident, “If I had to say, probably May.”

You stalled, not able to say much, “Monaco?”

“Yeah.”

Then something warm seemed to bloom in your chest and you felt your eyes soften and a small smile creep in your face at the admission, “When we met?”

He inhaled sharply, “Pretty much. I think the crush started when you offered to help me take my helmet photos.”

You laughed, “Those photos were pretty funny.”

He nodded, eyes darting again to the end of the corridor, “We can talk about all that later—”

“Agreed—”

“But I just wanna kiss you again.”

You just pulled him in.

#lando norris oneshot #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

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planet-dusk · 1 year

Text

🏷️ f!reader, dom!yeonjun, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, mc is called doll

yeonjun laughs when you paw at his chest, whining you're so big with tears in your eyes. you've never felt this full before.

"yes i am," he coos, cupping your cheek with his large hand and thrusting his cock in deeper.

all you can do is hold onto his biceps, the heat of his body overwhelming all your senses. the movie playing in the background is reduced to static noise. it barely reaches the foggy corners of your mind.

"look at you, doll. you're a mess. is my cock making your brain fuzzy? it's okay, let me do the thinking for you."

you nod quietly and yeonjun smiles, tapping your leg to signal you to spread them wider.

"that's it." his large palms press your thighs against your chest, the change in angle allowing him to reach even deeper. with every thrust his cock brushes against that gummy spot that makes you see stars and you feel the coil in your tummy rapidly tightening.

"how does that feel, doll? it's okay, you don't have to answer me. your cute whines tell me enough. you need to cum, don't you? maybe i'll let you if you beg."

yeonjun's eyes burn into yours, his movements slowing down until you can feel your impending orgasm waning. you've lost count of how many he's denied you tonight. your entire body feels like it might shatter if you don't cum soon. your eyes widen in panic, hands clutching the sheets in desperation.

"please, yeonjun — yes, i need to cum, make me, please —"

he chuckles and pulls out completely, ignoring your outcry. "tell me you're mine."

"i'm yours," you blink through tears, "only yours."

yeonjun grabs your hips and sinks back into your needy hole, pinching your clit and whispering words of encouragement when he feels you ripple and clench around his length. "good girl, make a mess on my cock," he murmurs, "let go for me. i'll take care of you from now on. you're all mine."

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #txt hard hours #txt imagines #txt headcanons #txt x reader #txt fanfic #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #dom!idol #sub!reader #;txt blurbs

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lyriumcoloredskies · 5 months

Text

Overdrive ft. (Law, Sanji, Zoro, Kid, Nami)

Pairing: Multi-character pairings ft. Law x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Kid x Reader, Nami x Reader WC: 1.2k Summary: Things that drive the OP characters wild. CW: 18+ MDNI Suggestive but no smut, teasing, mild not very descriptive violence in Kid's, food and eating mention in Sanji's, swearing, reader is described with breasts, no beta. AN: I've gotten way sicker and I feel like a small sickly victorian child, hoping that the country air will help my ailment. D:

Trafalgar D. Water Law

"Let me whisper in your ear, tell you something you might like to hear"

It’s been hours since Law decided to hole up in his office, sinking all his attention into a thick medical textbook. He’s halfway through a page when he feels a pair of soft warm lips press onto his neck. Instantly he feels his body erupt into gooseflesh.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels your warm hands make their way across his sides, lifting his shirt, before caressing his bare chest. Your lips work their way up his neck, stamping his skin with searing hot kisses, the slight smacking noise sending tingles down the base of his spine. As you grow closer to his ear, Law can hear your soft breathing, the sound going straight to his groin. Law stifles a moan that threatens to escape his lips as your feverish tongue makes contact with his ear lobe, slowly trailing its way up the shell of his ear. The obscene wet noises near his ear sends static through his brain, down his spine, and straight to his cock which continues to grow hard at your teasing. “How about you take a break?” you whisper before pinching his left nipple with one of your roaming hands, the other finding its way down his happy trail. Law quickly realizes he has no choice but to oblige.

Vinsmoke Sanji

"With the taste of a poison paradise, I'm addicted to you"

For the last few weeks, dinner has proven to be a difficult time for Sanji. It isn’t because he’s hit a creative slump with recipes or because he has to fight off a hungry Luffy from sneaking snacks. His troubles all stem from a certain other crew member – you. Sanji’s grip on his cutlery tightens as you let out a practically pornographic moan the moment a bite of his Poulet a la Provencal hits your tongue. You let out a few more obscene noises as you chew. Sanji swears the room is spinning. “Sanji~ this tastes divine, the chicken is so moist! And this sauce is just orgasmic~” you sigh out before dipping your finger in said sauce. Sanji nearly drops his fork as he watches your pink tongue dart out to lick off some of the sauce from the digit before you suckle it clean. Sanji thickly swallows at the sight, “A-ah thank you for the compliment y/n-swan!”. You let out a giggle before returning your attention back to your plate. Sanji is suddenly aware of how hot the room is and how tight his pants feel. Sanji tries to compose himself, taking a few deep breaths before returning to his own plate in front of him. He gets a few bites in before he nearly chokes on a piece of chicken when he feels a roaming foot caressing his inner thigh, he looks up only to catch your seductive gaze, a teasing smile plastered on your lips. Dinner would be another torturous affair.

Roronoa Zoro

"Girl you look so good, won't you back that ass up?"

Zoro loses count of his reps for the third time this workout. It’s been this way for the last few months. He would start his workouts with the full intent of giving everything he had, only for his eyes to wander, watching as the sweat traces a path down your body. Today was no different. His eyes graze over the curves of your butt as you work on your squats in front of him. Your muscles shake in effort as you let out several loud breaths. The entire thing turns Zoro on, his grey sweatpants no longer doing a good job at hiding his erection. He watches for a few more moments, carefully palming his length over his sweatpants. That’s when he sees you stutter a little bit in your last set. His body moves instinctively, stepping closer to you, your body only a few inches from pressing into his as he hovers his arms near the barbell bar. “Here, let me spot you” Zoro grumbles out. You give him a nod, adjusting your stance and grip. Zoro dutifully watches as you go in for another squat, only for your tight ass to brush Zoro’s erection as you went down and came back up. The pressure causes a filthy moan to rip out of Zoro’s mouth. In his embarrassment he can see you look back at him, a knowing smirk on your face. He had fallen right into your trap.

Eustass Kid

"She's hatin' 'cause I'm up and you can tell on her face"

Kid sits sprawled out in a booth with Killer on his right. His crew sits around him, everyone occupying nearby tables with a plethora of drinks flowing between them. He’s only half paying attention to Killer before their conversation is interrupted by a woman sliding up on his left side. He doesn’t bother to pay her any attention as she presses her hand to his chest and whispers in his ear asking if he would like some company. He waits patiently, secretly growing excited for what was to come. That’s when he hears you slam two mugs of beer on the table, liquid sloshing out everywhere. You were back from your run to the bartender. “Get the fuck off of my man you fucking whore!” you snarl out as you reach for the woman, grabbing her by the hair as you rip her off of Kid. There it was. Kid feels the first rush of blood to his cock as the atmosphere becomes fueled by adrenaline. The woman screams obscenities at you, flailing helplessly, while the crew eggs you on by yelling out vulgar encouragement. The whole scene turns him on, and he soon finds himself rock hard as he watches you throw the woman out the bar door. Your face is thunderous as you stomp back, gnashing out the crudest angry words at the woman’s gall. You don’t skip a beat as you down whatever was left in both the beer mugs before sliding into your rightful spot next to him, smashing your lips into his in a forceful hungry kiss. Fuck, Kid loved when you got possessive.

Nami

"I'm the First Lady of Juicy Couture, got a little cash now so the skirt is Dior"

Nami’s smile hasn’t left her face since she ushered you into the women’s dormitory, her arms overflowing with her latest clothing haul. “Y/n-chan~ you have to try these on! I picked them out just for you!” she says, pushing the bags into your arms. She relishes in the way heat takes over your cheeks as your eyes widen at the amount of shopping bags, clearly flattered at Nami's generous gesture. Despite your bashful look, you don’t say no to Nami’s demands, quickly stepping behind the changing screen in the corner of the room. Nami’s eyes trace over your shadowed figure behind the screen as you peel off every bit of your clothing, heat rushes to her core. “N-Nami? A-are you sure you handed me the right bag?” you ask, your voice full of anxiety. Nami is patient, flooding you with words of encouragement. She’s rewarded when you step out from the screen. Your body barely covered by the most vulgar bikini money could buy. Nami’s eyes greedily soak up the sight of your breasts, spilling out over the small triangle top, your hard nipples barely covered. You’re so cute as you fidget in the bikini, your face red in embarrassment. “D-does it look g-good Nami?” “Hmm it looks okay, but I bet it looks better on the floor.” One outfit down, 26 more to go.

#fanfic #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #eustass kid #kid x reader #nami #nami x reader

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thepeonysbackup · 14 days

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◇Satisfaction◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: THE LAST PART TO DRY HUMPING??? Thank you guys for liking my dumbassery? Craaaaazy to think any of you would liked this weird brain shit I got goin on in this blog.

Warning: Smut, pure, unadulterated smut. Smut smutty smut smut smut! (Just enjoy-)

Word count: Noneeee! Just made this

That pleading look in your foggy eyes, “I'm afraid I won't be going back on my word, Darling. But I will let you have the release you crave.” He explained while moving his hands from your chest and wet, squelching cunt to your waist, from there he drew your body forward and watched as you jolted and squirmed with a noise of embarrassment from your enjoyment of the feeling. His wicked grin grew, eyes narrowing as his smile twitched until you able to see the blackness that was his gums, “Mm-” Your hips jerked against him, hands coming up to his shoulders as a brace as you began to move yourself, no longer needing Alastors help in the matter as strings of moans and blubbering gasps started up again. Satisfied with your eagerness to please yourself from his teasing attacks on your most sensitive area, he leaned further away, back falling flat onto the grass as his ears flattened against his hair and he growled at the feeling of your wet juices flowing over his pants, your knee grazing his bulge that was oh so noticeable. But not to you. “Fuck- Al.. ‘S not enough.. It's not- I can't..!” You whined, body bending forward so that you were hovering over him, hair coming undone from its once firmly tied place, framing the two of you like a curtain as the radio demons claws slipped behind your head to bring you further down. Your body was laying atop his, hands gripping the grass near the sides of his head as his lips caught you in a kiss that broke your mind in half from the unexpected action and surprising amount of affection placed behind it. He plunged his tongue as far into your mouth as he could, his other hand continuing its guidance of your lower half as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your body began to twitch harder. You were right there, and all he had to do was push you all the way. How lovely for him, to have you in this bind, and not even one with your soul but with your mind. Your leg hiked up and slung over his other thigh, your heat pressing firmly on his straining bulge before you finally could hear a noise bubble from beneath Al's static that crackled. A noise resembling a glitched moan left him, noise transferring into your mouth which you reciprocated as he bit down onto your tongue, blood falling onto his lips which he lapped desperately up before you both flipped over.

“I really am impressed,” Al hissed into your ear as his lips trailed down your neck, fingers working deep into your clenching heat as his other hand kneaded the flesh of your breast from underneath your knitted button-up sweater, “You lasted far longer then I believed you would, but alas you didn't meet my true expectations.” His fingers curled, two digits rocking into the spongey spot right near your entrance, drawing a cry from your lips at the teasing. “I fear you haven't earned me inside you just yet.” Finished with a nip to your ear, tweaking your peak with a roll of his forefinger and thumb as your ground down into his other hand, whines and soft gasps continuing to climb in volume as fireflies hummed and blinked around you both. He'd brought you into the swamplands of his pocket dimensional room, his tie, belt, and cane strewn halfway to where he had worked you up from at the door. Your body relaxed flat against the deer demons chest upon his lap so he could have his way with you as he pleased. It was torture though, the edge that was just close enough to reach always furthering itself as he'd slow his movements or move his thumb from your swollen clit to stop that thread from snapping in two. “N-no- I- But!-” You writhed, hands feverishly trying to find a place to rest as the repetitive edging was starting to become to much. “No, Al.. I'm sorry, I never- I didn't mean—” He hushed you, grinning lips placing another kiss on your skin before he managed to switch your position on his lap, making your legs straddle a single thigh so he could see that begging expression.

You felt the soft grass, hair messy against it as you panted against the man above you’s lips, your legs being tugged upwards as he broke the kiss and buried his face into your shoulder so he could rut down between your legs at a quick pace. “How..” He breathed heavily, eyes failing to focus properly on your blissful expression, “How dare you do this to me.. You filthy thing..!” Those words were dripped in malice, anger from the pleasure you were providing for him when he had only wanted you to break for him. You had, but at what cost to his own pleasure. This grotesquely marvelous feeling he'd detested with his entire soul finally feeling as it should, like he needed it to feel as his hips pushed harder, the throb becoming nearly unbearable. He was there, the gooey warmth finally adding to the damp spot that had nearly dried and then some as it seeped slightly through the fabric, the white stickiness gently coating your lady lips as he continued to rub against you until your own climax hit you like a truck. With a groan of sorts, hands holding him into your chest while your body arched, you came undone against him and allowed your mind to fade as he pulled himself flat down against you with a sigh before darkness consumed you.

#keiks piece #hazbin hotel #keiks works #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #keiks creatures of intrigue #alastor #alastor altruist x reader #alastor altruist #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #smut

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markster666 · 3 months

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KINKTOBER (Except in February) - ALASTOR X READER - DAY #6 (Overstimulation)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: Kinktober, One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, Not a lot of plot, pet names, overstimulation, teasing, pet names, Dom!Alastor, Sub!Reader, etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 529

A/N: Enjoy! MDNI, please. Not edited, so apologies for any spelling mistakes.

"Alastor, can I see you alone for a bit?"

"Of course, my dear! Please, let's find a quiet spot where we can chat in private."

He led you to a very secluded corner of the hotel. He towered over you, letting you lean against the wall adjacent to him. His ears flicked.

"So, what's on your mind? I'm all ears."

"R-remember the last time me and you... you know..."

He raised his eyebrow at you expectingly.

"...had sex?" You squeaked out.

He smirked mischeviously.

"Of course I do, my Dear, why are you bringing this up now?"

You whimpered lightly, crossing your legs over each other, trying to hide your heat.

"I-I've been craving you again for awhile. I'm loosing patience and..."

He cut you off immediately by crashing his lips into yours. His ears furrowed back in pleasure as he continued his assault on your mouth. You moaned into the kiss as he started nipping at your lip gently. He broke away just as fast as he latched on. His voice was filled with pure radio static.

"Oh how i've been WAITING for you to come to me again."

With a few swift movements, he undressed you with his tentacles. You gasped at the sudden temperature change, going from the warmth of your clothes to the chill in the air. He pressed his body against you, and suddenly the cold didn't matter.

"I'm going to make you feel like a fucking God."

He turned you around so you were flush against the wall, facing it. You arched your back in anticipation, not able to process how fast he was going. He slapped your ass once, earning a loud yelp from your throat. You heard him unbuckling his pants from behind you, waiting in anticipation.

He didn't even give you a second to adjust as he slammed his full length into you. You screamed out in pain and pleasure as he wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing the sides to stop you from making any further noise. You started to feel fuzzy as the blood flow to your brain decreased.

He started bucking into you at a rapid place and you were nothing but braindead. You mouth hung open, your hands pressed against the wall and he pounded into you over and over again. His growls flooded your ears.

He reached around and started playing with your clit as he continued to mount you. You felt your walls constricting against his cock. You couldn't think of a single coherent thought. This was all too much for you to handle. He was hitting all the right spots in you.

"You look soooo good when you're braindead for me, my Dear."

You whimpered lightly in response, feeling your knees buckle from underneath you as the pleasure was way too overwhelming. His thrusts started to get sloppier until he eventually emptied himself out into you.

He pulled out, letting go of your throat, and you collapsed to the floor, feeling like a useless fuckdoll.

He tucked his heat back into his pants and brushed himself off, looking down at you and his work.

"What a good girl you are, little one."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

TAG LIST (Comment Below if you'd like to be added!/If I missed you I apologize):

@smallershorteranduncut @persephoneblck @freekyfangirl @danveration @daisybelldarling @your-excellenc-z21 @aestheticgals-blog @naewasnothere @bontensbabygirl @amara-ishigami @strawberrypimpsimp @mneferta @deathnoteeee @lady-valtieri @itz-yue @alastorsfawn @thatdeadstoat @harmfulb1tch @no1sillybilly @ohbother2 @vee3-vox @alexandria-fandom @loratadina-makesmewanttocry @stargirlplanet @lbcreations-blog @depresoecspreso @dndmaniac @polytheatrix @transparentwizardmentality @the-lake-is-calling @randompersonidks-blog @ellezahen (won't let me tag you) @jyoongim @laundrybear413 @nega-omega @sageminty17 @lunaramune @heartsbutterfly @kaiandersonsbitch @a-jazzy-bee @my-divine-goddess000 @chewbrry @depresoecspreso @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @go-to-nerdytrashishere @creepylilneko @a-jazzy-bee @chewbrry @dievia3 @shotthrewtheheart @sunshinelulusplatoon @alon3lylov3r (won't let me tag you for some reason), @prosciuttosblog @casuallynotthirsty (you either rip), @lemonyboy97

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #18+ only #alastor x reader smut #18+ mdni #mdni #one shot

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addicted-to-dc · 11 months

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Hobie Brown/Spider-Man X FemmeFatale!Reader - Red Lipstick (Part 2)

Bruh this brain rot is surprisingly motivating. I may have gotten too carried away with this one? Idk, it’s nearly 1,300 words of pure smut. I don’t want to overwhelm myself with another series, so this just might be a two-parter??

Contents will be under the ‘keep reading’.

Contents: Smmuutttt (18+), face riding, p in the v (do not add to the population pls), and more. Flirts and quips, the usual stuff that comes with Spider People. I really need to write femme fatales more often.

Fuck, he knows he’s in heaven right now with you hovering over him. You both couldn’t reach your apartment fast enough, barely able to crawl through the windows before clothes were torn, tossed, and forgotten all over your bedroom.

Your constant teasing has him all worked up and he loves it. The smile on your face grows even larger when you finish applying the new lipstick to his lips. The metallic red glitters with the shifting light, and you can’t help but steal it off of his lips. The color smears all over both of your faces, hands exploring each others’ bodies. You pull back, dragging your nails across his chest, “How does it look, Tiger?”

Hobie fucking moans at the nickname, the shimmering red on your lips driving him absolutely mad. Your smile widens, more akin to the Cheshire Cat as you lean down close, “You like that one, don’t you?”

His hips buck into yours, telling you everything you needed. Finally lowering your hips down, Hobie’s nails dig into you as you slowly grind down on him. “Fucking love it, Love. God, you’re a goddess.”

Smiling, you lean down, pecking him on the lips before leaning back, “You know how to make a girl blush.”

“I can do more than make a girl blush, Sweetheart,” Hobie chuckles, his fingers fiddling with your lingerie. “Get up here, let me see her.”

Biting your lip, he tears your bottoms off of you and pushes you upwards. Your muscles twitch as your thighs rest with his face in between them. Those beautiful piercings glisten as his hands massage your legs. “You’re pure sin.”

Hobie grins, his grip urging you to sit down, “Take your throne, my Queen.”

Gasping, you let him pull you down. As soon as his mouth is on you a moan erupts from your lungs, your hips rolling along with his tongue. “Fuck! I thought you hated m-monarchies.”

You can feel him smile against you at the comment. He only responds with his tongue sliding into you, stealing your very breath from your lungs. Hobie’s everywhere as he uses your body against you, your emotional barriers crumbling as you reach down to hold one of his hands. He squeezes your hand tightly, doubling his efforts that has you curling downward.

“Cluh- close,” you moan, accidentally snapping your headboard in two as you come all over his tongue.

Hobie pulls you even closer, tearing a scream out of you as he quickly builds you to a second orgasm. The metal crumples under your hand without resistance. His free hand slides underneath yours, weaving his fingers into yours before pulling. Hobie holds both your hands back, taking over your pace as your hips buck against him wildly.

“Fuck, Tiger, just like that,” you cry out, looking down.

You moan at the sight of him, the red lipstick somehow still on his lips as he wraps them around your clit. Then you’re gone. Your throat vibrates, but you can’t hear any of the noises he pulls out of you. All you can see is static as you come down, your eyes refusing your commands to open them.

Breathing heavily, you yell when he pulls both your bodies downwards, you chest meeting the bed. He kisses your clit, making your hips lift with a hiss. A chuckle escapes his mouth, the vibrations go right to your core.

He flips the two of you. Your back meets the bed with a thud, his hands lightly drift across your skin as you calm your breathing down. A shiver crawls up your spine as his fingers dance across your stomach. Hobie’s eyes meet yours as his lips replace his fingers. “My turn to tease.”

“You’ve done that enough walking through HQ,” you whisper, exhaling loudly as his hands tear your bra off. “Fucking mesmerizing.”

Hobie flings it behind him, leaning in you kiss you again. It’s sloppy, but you can’t help but slip your tongue in. He bites it, chuckling when your tongue delves in even further. As soon as his eyes open he groans, seeing the red smeared all over you forever imprinted in his mind.

“God, gotta feel you ‘round me,” he mutters.

He feels your fingers unbutton his jeans and oh so slowly drag his zipper down. You push his pants down, finally freeing him from those clothes. He pulls them off and crawls on top of you. Just as he leans close, he flips you both over again. Hobie smiles at the sight of you above him, painted red like the goddess you are. The color stands out beautifully against the blacks, grays, and whites that make up your figure. Gwen’s right, he’s so fucking whipped.

“You like your women on top?” you ask, lifting your hips up as you grasp him. “Come on, Tiger, you can tell me.”

He hisses as you slowly sink down on him, leaning close as you squeeze the life out of him, “Never with a woman like you.”

You lift your hips back up, his tip barely inside you as you flash that fucking addicting smile, “Honey, there isn’t another woman like me.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth you sink all the way down. A weak ‘fuck’ escapes from his mouth, his hands shooting out to grasp your hips. You both work in tandem, him hitting all the right spots to make you see stars as you fuck him into oblivion.

You both watch each other, taking note of every touch and movement that makes the other go wild. It’s a game, one that you were going to win. Your gray eyes stare into his, whispering sweet nothings as he gets closer and closer to falling over the edge. Biting your lip, you watch as he writhes underneath you. “Come on, Tiger, let go.”

Your words set him off. His hips spasm as he comes, filling you whole as you continue to ride him. Stubbornness fuels you, needing to overstimulate him just like he did to you. Hobie’s moans fill the air as he scrambles to get you to stop, but you just grab his hands and press them into your chest. He squeezes the soft flesh, making your hips stutter slightly. “Give it to me again, Sugar. I know you got it in you.”

Your moans join together as you both come again, limbs refusing to move until the pleasure is too much to bear. You remain still, still seated on him when you shoot a web to the nightstand. A case of cigarettes appear in your hand seconds after. You place a hand-rolled one into your mouth, lighting it before taking a long drag from it. The smoke escapes from your nose, the mischievous glint in your eye returning tenfold. You flick the cigarette around in your mouth, offering it to him.

He leans up and takes it, his lips happily wrapping around the red-stained rim, “You got anymore tricks for me?”

Smoke escapes from his mouth, his eyes flashing with recognition, “Is this what I think it is?”

“The sweetest tobacco and Mary Jane, Sugar, that’s what it is,” you say, taking a hit when he offers the cigarette.

He holds onto it, watching as your lips leave another layer of red on it, “You’re a fucking dream, that’s what you are.”

Hobie doesn’t remember where he stole the lipstick from, but he’s regularly visiting it from now on. That’s a fucking promise.

#hobie brown x reader #spider-punk x reader #spider-man x reader #hobie brown X reader smut #spider punk X reader smut

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amiascv · 3 months

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"My greatest enemy, scoring a date!"

Alastor × F!Reader —

tags: enemies to lovers, no established relationship yet. <more platonic than romantic>

content warning: includes swearing, ooc alastor, ooc everyone really, your regular hazbin hotel content.

series?: <i think?>

START!

. . . "Y/N! Alastor! Please could you put off your bantering for one moment. I really, like, really need to focus and I just can't with all the noise right now!" Charlie raged at the two overlords standing behind her as she was busy planning her next course of action to get the Hazbin Hotel to attract more sinners.

"Of course, sweetie! I wouldn't dare imagine causing you no good!" Y/N, the Library Demon, babied her princess. But not out of pure love, Heav- or more fittingly, Hell no! It was out of spite against the Radio Demon beside her.

However, why were they fighting in the first place? You see...

"Our little princess seems to be quite the hardworker lately! Isn't she, Ali?" Sing-songed Y/N, admiring the heir to the throne of Hell as she researched and scoured all the books gave to her on how to attract more sinners towards the Hotel. (courtesy of her, the Library Demon, obviously!)

"She certainly is, N/N! At this rate she'll gain more knowledge and power than ever before! Power which I can guide..." Voiced out Alastor as static soon took over most of his vocal cords in excitement. Excitement which didn't go unnoticed by his dear overlord buddy.

"Aha... aha... Say that part one more time for me?" She threated which caught his amusement. Y/N had a lot of powers, but controlling her temper when it comes to her possessions? Nope, no, nuh uh! Not one of her traits, that's for sure! But Alastor? He definitely took advantage of this weakness of hers every single chance he got. Like now, actually!

"Hmm? I do believe I've made myself clear, sweetheart, having ear trouble? I know a good otolaryngologist around these parts if you're interested, my dear!" He teased. Y/N wasn't really this easy to be shoved and pushed around, but why could he do it like it's his one true purpose in life? It infuriated the Librarian even more. So much that she'd even attack the little shit right here and now.

She didn't even need Charlie's power, she just wanted it out of boredom. So why was she so affected?

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU RADIO DEMON!"

Hours past after she apologized to Charlie, and now she was busy taking off her steam at Rosie's side of town. Cannibal town!

"And then he just laughs it off?! He laughs at the sight of ME?!" She rants, demon horns coming out of her head and scaring off other sinners and hell-born alike trying to approach Rosie. Her listener only laughs in amusement at her friend's retelling. It was certainly amusing when she knew both sides to the story. It's like trying to solve a puzzle knowing the end would be a masterpiece to remember!

Her giggles die down as she soon replies, "Deary me, have you tried telling our old friend to stop? Maybe he could if you ask!" She almost choked at her statement. Ask one of the scariest overlords? To stop messing with her? Fuck no! Y/N was prideful of her capabilities, but not too ignorant enough to ask Alastor to just stop.

"If you wanted me to get killed that badly, love, then say so!"

"Well I know for certain you could get something off of asking him!"

"Like what?"

"Maybe... a deal, darling?"

"A deal with the cannibal with shits for brains?"

"Uh-huh! Maybe he's pushing you to your limits so you can have a one on one talk!" She convinces her even further. She does know him better than her... so maybe, it wouldn't hurt to try.

"... If I'm dead by tomorrow you know why," And with that, pages flew around you, enveloping you in their magic and transporting you back to the hotel. Meanwhile with Rosie...

"Alastor, dear, better not blow this thing sideways with her!" She calls out to the shadow hiding behind her. Making his entrance, his smile not faltering, he brushes off the dust he's collected from listening on the two delightful women's conversation.

"Oh don't you worry, my lovely! I wouldn't dream of wasting your opportunity given to me!"

"You better not."

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x you #x reader #x you #imagine #how do i tag this

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hesbambi · 9 months

Text

attention.

❝ beg for it. ❞

pairing; mark lee x (f) reader

genre/warnings; pure filthy smut, profanity, daddy mark,mark teasing you, you being desperate (the usual), finger sucking, thigh riding, making out, hints of sadism (?), dry humping, mark calling you good girl

summary; mark is not the saint everyone paints him out to be. you’re surprised at his reaction to your need of his affection.

word count; 980

authors note; i know i said i wouldn’t be writing… i didn’t! this is something i’ve had for a while that just needed some freshening up! hope you all enjoy ;) if i have any misspellings it's bc im editing this at 3 am....

YOU LOVED ATTENTION.

it was a natural thing for you to yearn for. what you didn’t really expect was for you to beg for it. while meeting mark, you underestimated the power he has over you. unintentionally, his charm and charisma lured you in unexpectedly.

mark is sweet, kind, and well-rounded. never would you have assumed that “tease” would be a word to describe him.

you sat on his lap, arms around his neck and teasingly biting his lips. ceasing your makeout session at random times to tease him even further. your knees squeeze closer around his waist while his hand's sliver down from your hips to your thighs. he grunts every time you scoot closer to his crotch, his visible hard-on pressing against your clothed core.

breaking your lips apart from his, you rest your hands on his knees, leaning back to catch air while closing your eyes. slightly panting at the intensity of the contact of lips. mark opens his legs wider, hands back on your waist. squeezing your hips with the desperation to be in you, he sits back more comfortably while he rests back against the couch.

his hand slivers up to your throat, bringing you face to face with him. the last thing you hear is a gravelly “god fucking damn,” before your body buzzes again. mark brings your lips against him, smothering you in his taste. closing your eyes you feel nothing but a dopamine rush throughout your veins and your pussy pulsing to have mark on you. your body seems to be burning every second mark touches you. his hand lays against the back of your neck, somehow pushing your lips even further into his. teeth clash into one another but neither of you pays no mind.

you don’t notice the whimpering noises in your throat– not so subtly made– or your core trying to push against mark’s jean-clad cock. you do though– notice mark's tilting smirk that edges you on further to let him roll his tongue into you. a guttural groan breaks the thin air. “fuck baby,” mark breaks away after noticing the way your hips try to push against his cock even more, almost like you were instinctively searching for him.

“more mark p-please more,” you exclaim while gripping his static hands on your hips. you needed him, and badly, desperately, like your brain or body is unable to function without his dick in you. heat rising from your tummy while waiting for mark to take you to his room.

“beg for it.”

startled at the way he sounded, demanding and absorbed in his own arousal. he doesn’t wait for your response, only moving you onto one of his thighs.

“know how much you like attention baby, better give me a good show.”

you say nothing other than whimper at his command, too desperate to at least feel something, even if it were his thigh. your underwear is nothing but a shield against his rough jeans. huffing at the difficulty to get off– even if you were still being stimulated– it wasn't enough. you needed mark. “please please mark,” you beg, hand scratching against his abs while the other tries to touch his hand.

“you better get off my thigh or you’re not getting anything at all,” mark swats your hands away and settles his hands on your hips once again. tears form from the frustration. mark knew, no matter what you tried to do, you can’t get off without him. he says nothing after, only leaning back and observing you in amusement and need. wetness seeps through your panties and onto his thigh, making the air thicker between you two as you both glance and acknowledge your wetness.

mark was on edge. he loved seeing you this way– desperate, trying to get off with no avail. he was edging himself along with you, palming his achy and leaking cock. groaning, he couldn’t wrap his head at how beautiful you looked. tears dampening your eyelashes, cheeks heated up and legs tense from the frustration.

he says nothing as he tenses up his thigh, enjoying the way you throw your head back in relief he's giving you something. you rock your pussy against him faster, almost bouncing on him, gripping his shoulders as mark traces your lips. spending a few seconds circling, entering his pointer and middle finger into your mouth to make you gag.

becoming breathless from not only the intrusion but the euphoria you feel head to toe. fastening your actions, bubbling in the excitement that you finally get to come. at least, that's what you think until you hear mark utter, “don’t come yet.”

you’d be embarrassed to see yourself in your haze of arousal, begging more than you would ever admit. sucking on mark’s fingers like it was the actual object you longed for, letting him gag you with his fingers and spanking you heavy-handedly.

“say thank you,” mark states, gripping your chin to bring your face closer to his. his fingers still in your mouth, you moan at the heat rampaging throughout your body, tingling all the right nerves for release. impatiently, he lets go of your chin and slaps your behind again, urging you to say the words. you don’t waste any more time, knowing his command is all you need to let go.

“thank you, daddy, th-”

“good girl. let go for me baby,” mark utters breathily, teeth clenching while watching you shake on his lap. moans spilling out, increasing in pitch as you cum. laying flat against his chest, catching your breath, and wiping away the tears from your eyes. mark kisses you on your forehead, resting against you.

“did so well baby, feelin’ okay?” he asks. nodding your head, you slither your hand against his bulge. mark groans out in surprise, giving you a questioning look.

“thought i’m supposed to give you a show, daddy?”

#nct mark #mark lee #nct mark lee #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct smut #nct dream smut #mark lee smut #nct mark smut #nct drabbles #mark lee x reader #lol hope you enjoyed #sigh #i felt like a middle aged woman writing her spicy books #anywayyysss enjoyyy #wormythoughtswithh

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sentientgolfball · 8 months

Note

Writing request! Phantom being a soft little attention whore and doing everything to get the flustered GN!Reader's attention? Doesn't need be NSFW, Phantom just wants some cuddle time.

Anon I need to thank you for adding fuel to my Phantom obsession

Also ignore how long this got

Tags: none! Just good old fluff

My request are currently open !

You had gotten to dinner later than normal because of some overflow work you were assigned. Being Sister Imperator’s assistant had its perks, but most of the time it left you with a stack of paper the size of your torso. That’s how you ended up displaced in the dining hall. Where you normally sat with the other Siblings who have been at the Ministry for a decent amount of time was crowded. You couldn’t justify trying to worm your way in. So you took up an open spot with some of the newer Siblings at the end of the hall. You were engrossed in your own world trying to get your brain to stop buzzing for the better part of the meal, only occasionally answering some questions or clearing up misunderstandings that you may have overheard. That was until you heard snickering. You looked up and noticed that the ghouls of The Ghost Project were seated at a table not far from yours. You also noticed that one of them, the quintessence ghoul by the looks of it, was approaching while Dew and Swiss tried and failed to hide their amusement.

The Siblings you were seated with forgot about any conversations that might've been going on when the ghoul came to a stop at the head of the table, his tail wagging rapidly. The mask may have hidden his face, but his mood was clear as day. Everyone at the table looked at him with wide wonder-filled eyes. You just cocked your head at him with a small smile. His tail beat faster if that was even possible.

“I couldn’t help but overhear some of you have never seen ghoul magic before.” He smiled so wide his fangs were peeking out from his lips. Some of the Siblings made small noises in affirmation too wonderstruck to formulate a proper response.

“Well lucky for you I learned a new trick! Do you wanna see it?” All it took was one nodding their head for him to clap his hands together “Great! I’ll need a volunteer though.”

You had never seen people move so quickly in your life. Each one of the Siblings was leaning over one another to get closer to the ghoul in hopes they’d be picked. He just laughed and held up his hands in a passive gesture.

“Alright okay, how about…you!”

The ghoul motions to the Sibling closest to him. He nods his head eagerly and waits for whatever instruction. The ghoul reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder. The air smells like ozone for a brief moment and you can hear a faint static noise as you watch tiny purple sparks dance to life and connect the two. Everyone at the table seems to be holding their breath watching with an intensity you don’t even see during Black Mass. You huff a little amused laugh and eat while you watch the display.

When the ghoul removes his hand the Sibling is staring at him in awe as he beams down at him. There’s a confused murmur through the group and out of instinct you answer their questioning

“Telepathy. Some quint ghouls have that ability.”

It’s almost humorous how casually you talk about demons and magic. It goes quiet for a moment. You look up from your plate to see all of the Siblings and the ghoul staring at you. His mouth was half open and it was only then did you realized you definitely just interrupted him. You panic internally for about a second before you notice his tail never stopped wagging. He made a move to walk over to your spot at the table, but he didn’t get very far before he was yanked backward with a yelp.

“Stop bothering the Siblings and eat your food before it gets cold or else you get leftovers in the den.” You recognized the voice of Cirrus from under the mask.

The moment he was gone, they all began questioning the man who was lucky enough to be chosen. He tried his best to describe it, but it was obvious he was floundering under the attention. You weren’t completely exhausted yet so you decided to throw him a bone and began to explain what you knew of ghoul magic and some of the things you’ve seen it do. However, the entire time you spoke you couldn’t help but notice the little quintessence ghoul hadn’t taken his eyes off you once. Every time he realized you were looking back, he would wave and smile broadly, and every single time Dew and Swiss would tease him. You couldn’t help but laugh at the display, it was pretty cute seeing how excited he got.

After you had finished and decided you had enough conversation for one night, you stood to leave, bidding everyone at the table a nice night. You made it approximately five feet out of the dining hall before you felt a clawed hand on your wrist. You stopped and turned to face none other than the little quintessence ghoul. His purring was filling the otherwise quiet hallway.

You cock your head with a smile not quite reaching your tired eyes.

“Need something…?”

“Phantom.” He grinned.

“Phantom.”

He trilled happily “Say it again.”

You huffed a laugh and took your hand from his grasp “Answer my question first.”

He took his helmet off, shook his hair out, and looked at you with bright eyes, cheeks dusted a deeper purple.

“Can I spend the night with you?” His tail wagged as he waited for your answer.

That was not what you were expecting him to say if you were being honest with yourself. You had been at the Ministry for years now, so random demons offering a night of sin was nothing surprising. What was surprising was just how forward he was. Usually, it took the new ghouls a bit of time to gain that level of confidence and interest in the humans of the Ministry.

When the silence dragged his face flustered deeper.

“That’s not what I meant dear Sibling…I mean well not unless you’re offering.”

You smile amused at the way his voice pitched higher awkwardly, you almost feel bad for your response.

“Not tonight Phantom. I’m exhausted from work.”

“Oh! Well that’s fine we can just—“

“I meant no to both sweetheart.”

The wag of his tail faltered as his purring got softer. You didn’t miss the brief flash of disappointment in his expression before he tried to hide it. He lightly shook his head causing his earrings to jingle.

“Well…can I walk with you to your room?”

You laughed “Sure I don’t see why not.”

“Great!” He immediately grabbed your hand and started walking down the hallway. You gave a light tug on his hand. He looked at you with a little ‘mmrr?’ sound.

“Uh, Phantom…my room is that way.” You pointed to the right with your other hand.

He smiled awkwardly making a noise of affirmation and turned to the direction you pointed to and began walking with your hand still in his. He definitely has not gotten used to his otherworldly strength because he was practically dragging you behind him. Eventually, you gathered your footing and were able to walk side by side. He kept glancing at you as he walked and would startle every time you caught him.

When you arrived at the door to your room you dropped his hand ready to say goodnight. Before you could squeak even one word out he wrapped you in a tight but quick hug. You rolled your eyes with a smile and hugged him back with a pat on his back. When he let go you opened your door and stepped in but not before turning around to him.

“Goodnight Phantom.”

You began to close the door and noticed that he tilted his head to keep looking at you until it was completely closed.

You smiled at the closed door for a moment before going about your before-bed routine. You flopped onto the horde of fluffy pillows and blankets and let the events of the day replay in your head. You let out a sigh feeling content at finally having a moment to yourself. It’s not that you didn’t like sitting with the new Siblings, but it felt more like babysitting or hanging out with a coworker. Then you thought to Phantom. You smiled to yourself. New ghouls were always so much fun, they were always so curious about everything Earth had to offer. It was even better when they finally got used to the company of humans and began seeking interactions. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find his behavior a bit endearing already. You had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time Phantom followed you back to your room.

Turns out, that came much earlier than you expected. You had woken up a bit before your alarm and decided to just accept your fate and get up and ready for the day. When you opened your door to leave, you immediately tripped over something. The mass in front of your door let out a surprised yelp. You caught yourself before falling. When you turned around you were met with the sight of Phantom slowly sitting up rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“G’moring.” He said with a yawn that ended in a whine.

“Phantom I did you…did you sleep there all night?”

“Yeah, why?” He asked it so casually with a hint of genuine confusion.

You stared at him bug-eyed

“Why? You weren’t kicked out of the ghoul den already were you?”

He cocked his head raising an eyebrow

“Uhh no? I wanted to walk with you to breakfast but then I realized I didn’t know how early you got up and then I realized I usually sleep late. So naturally the solution was to sleep right here.” He emphasized his statement by tapping the floor with his tail causing the piercings to scrape against the stone.

You laughed with a mix of amusement and disbelief “Naturally.”

You held out your hand to him and he took it eagerly. You helped him up and he hugged you again. As you two walked to the dining hall, he wrapped his tail around your wrist. With how early it was there weren’t many people at breakfast which you didn’t mind. It was mostly older Siblings and a few Clergy ghouls. The Siblings gave you knowing looks and you just rolled your eyes in amusement. The only other band ghoul that was present was Cirrus. When she noticed the way Phantom was leaning practically on top of you she came over.

“Bug I think you’re suffocating the dear Sibling.”

You shook your head as he whined “It’s fine Cirrus I don’t mind.” You reached up to scratch behind his pointed ears for emphasis. His tail beat heavily against the bench as a loud purr kicked up in his chest.

“Alright alright but if he does start bothering you, you know where to find me.” She said with amusement.

“I can handle myself” you grinned at her “I know how to handle a ghoul.”

Her tail flicked playfully behind her as she turned to go back to where she had sat.

You finished breakfast rather quickly after that and untangled Phantom’s tail from your arm making him pout. You apologized and gave him a quick explanation of your job as Sister Imperator’s assistant and why you had to go so suddenly. He seemed to accept it despite his dejected look. You ruffled his hair and bid him a good day which caused him to brighten a bit.

~~~

Apparently Phantom didn’t quite accept your explanation. Your task for the day, after finishing the paperwork you didn’t get to yesterday, was to run around the Ministry delivering said paperwork to whomever it applied to. Somehow every corner you turned you bumped into Phantom. At first, he would apologize, give your hand a squeeze, and then walk off to do his own chores, but after he realized you didn’t seem to be getting annoyed with the ‘coincidences’ he simply started to follow you around. He kept his distance for a bit genuinely not wanting to interfere with your job, but every time you turned and caught his eye and didn’t tell him off he would creep closer.

By the end of the day, he was practically your personal escort, walking side by side with you asking you questions just to hear you talk with his tail curled idly around your arm. Little did you know, that soon became your new daily routine. You would wake up to him waiting eagerly outside your door so you could walk to the dining hall together. He would disappear for a bit to speed through his own chores before coming to find you no matter what task Imperator had you up to. When you finished you two would then go to the dining hall for dinner where you’d make faces and hand gestures to each other from the tables while the ghoul pack and your friends respectively tease you both. It didn’t take much longer before he started to sleep over every so often.

As the months crawled on and the first tour date came closer you began to see less of him which made your heart oddly heavy. You tried, and failed, to not think too much about it. You obviously didn’t like him, he was just being friendly. You saw the way he interacted with the other ghouls and some other Siblings or the way he acted when you would sneak a peek at rehearsals. He was just affectionate! He liked attention! But he only walked with you. He only got up early to meet you. He only looked at you doing dinner. He only followed you back to your room. And his purring helped you sleep so much better than any weighted blanket. And the way his tail always betrayed his emotions. And how his eyes always lit up when he spotted you. And maybe your heart skipped a beat when he once confided in you after a rough rehearsal saying that you made him feel grounded.

Aw, shit was all you could think as you felt your cheeks heat and the list of reasons grew. You shook your head slightly to clear it and returned to the task at hand. You had been working on a massive project for Imperator that needed to be finished before the band went on tour. It’s taken up practically all your time, you barely had time to get proper meals in. That also meant you’ve been having less and less time with Phantom. You could tell it was definitely affecting him just as much. The moments you two did get together he was even more clingy, if that was even possible. He also seemed more tired, he still was rather energetic, but he definitely seemed toned down. Your suspicions were confirmed when he got back from a longer-running rehearsal and his quintessence sparked to life without him even noticing. He also took to sleeping in your bed every night now, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck and passing out with his tail wrapped around your waist.

You worked for a few more hours before leaning back in your chair to stretch. Your eye caught the clock on the wall and you cursed. It was well past midnight. Phantom’s rehearsal ended four hours ago. You found a good stopping point and quickly packed everything up and made your way to your room. You were ready to have to spend the night on your own for the first time in almost a month. You were already ragged from working all day and the idea of having your new routine, your only time with Phantom, getting disturbed made you feel even worse. You choked down the burn in your throat as you pushed your bedroom door open.

“There’s my comet.”

You gasped and looked up to see a rather exhausted-looking Phantom sitting happily on your bed. He was already in his pajamas and there were multiple books stacked on your nightstand. He blinked slowly and cracked a wide smile.

You smiled in return and willed yourself not to cry in front of him. However, the way his brows knit together before standing up and walking over to you reminded you. Quintessence ghouls can feel emotions. He crushed you against his chest and kicked up a purr in his chest. You attempted to stutter out a mix of an apology and an explanation, but he just shushed you and practically threw you both backward onto your bed. You didn’t even care you were still in your day clothes, you didn’t want to move now that you were right where you wanted to be. And then you smelled it. The air had suddenly felt electric. The scent of ozone and frost filled the space. You felt a little tingle in your mind before hearing Phantom.

I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you so fucking much. I like you so fucking much.

Your eyes snapped open. Oh. You definitely weren’t meant to hear that, at least not like this. However, your sleep-deprived mind couldn’t care less at the moment.

“Hey.” You shifted your shoulder to get him to lift his head from your neck.

“Huh? What is it?”

You gave him a quick, chaste kiss on his lips before pulling back and kissing his nose.

“I missed you too.”

It took him approximately five seconds to really understand what just happened as you sent him entirely offline. When his brain finally caught up, though, he laughed with so much genuine joy that it made your heart beat a little faster. He pulled you so impossibly close to him and peppered your whole face with kisses before leaving a long kiss on your lips. He nuzzled his face right back into your neck as you scratched between his horns. The silence was periodically broken with Phantom giggling to himself and pressing another kiss to your neck and shoulder. This went on until he ended up falling asleep with a slight smile on his face and a purr deep in his chest.

You curled into his hold and never felt more content in your life. You closed your eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep soothed by his rumble and his weight.

Okay. So maybe you did like him. Just a little bit.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #phantom x reader #i hope you like it anon <3 #golfball writes

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