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leclsrc · 1 year

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you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach.

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase.

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting.

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk.

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly.

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen.

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.”

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches.

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously.

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.”

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking. “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard.

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum.

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly.

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting.

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title.

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while.

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there.

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot.

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure.

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?”

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease.

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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siredtosturniolos · 2 months

Text

house of mirrors

paring: chris sturniolo x reader

summary: halloween was without a doubt your favorite holiday, always seeking the thrill that comes with being scared. you find yourself going to the house of mirrors by yourself, but you never were truly alone, were you?

warnings: smut! sex w a stranger, mask kink if you squint. (heavily inspired by haunting adeline! a great dark romance book if you’re into that btw)

authors note!: guys this is my first like, fr smut so pls lmk how it is!! (also im new to tumblr and i can’t respond to comments on posts like what???) also hopefully this is proof read enough i kinda gave up lol

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

it was october 31st, your favorite time of the year which means your favorite halloween carnival had made its way back to santa monica blvd.

the west hollywood halloween carnival.

it was a tradition for you and your friends to attend every year, and you were typically the first to enter any frightening experience. you love the thrill of being scared, the thrill of not knowing what’s coming next and perhaps you liked it a little too much.

the silent gasps or he pressing of your thighs, was often how you spent your day during these experiences. especially anytime someone with a ghostface mask came in your line of sight

you and your friends had spent hours at the carnival attending various activities and shows having a good time. they had definitely stepped up their game from last year leaving you wanting more.

you see a sign, pointing in the direction of a haunted house of mirrors. quickly expressing to your friends do you wanted to go but they had had enough.

“you’re crazy if you think I’m gonna go through that.” one of your friends spoke, the others nod in agreement

You shrugged. “well i’m going, so i guess i’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“‘kay, be careful and have fun! we will be at the apple cider stand.” one of your friends offered with a smile, before you parted ways.

you kept walking in the direction of the house of mirrors, finding that it became less and less populated as you walked. it was on the edge of the carnival grounds, almost secluded, and you finally found it and saw that there was no one standing at the entrance, allowing yourself to slip inside wordlessly.

you didn’t know what to expect, but you were shocked seeing the mirrors surrounded by black painted walls with a slight red hue from the ceiling from the led lights. cob webs and fake spiders decorated the ceiling.

before you step in any further, you check the time cursing to yourself as you realize the fair is supposed to close in just over an hour.

mazes were one of your favorite things, and you were upset slightly that you had to rush due to not wanting to be stuck here after hours.

it takes all of five minutes before you’re lost, you keep your hands out in front of you preventing you from running face first into one of the mirrors. the feeling sunk in and your heart rate started pumping irradically, your breathing uneven with excitement.

you knew you weren’t alone, as this was supposed to be a haunted house of mirrors, desperately waiting for any signs of life as you knew someone would pop out to scare you soon.

in the distance, you hear a faint shuffling of feet, and you couldn’t help but grin yourself. you just hoped the mirrors wouldn’t ruin the ruin the scare as you quickly glanced around in all directions, trying to spot somebody.

you almost fall face first into a mirror, but you’re quickly distracted as you hear a chuckle. your head snaps up at the sound, your adrenaline spikes quickly pumping the chemical into your heart, and kicking up the speed further.

finding your way past the mirror that almost gave you a nose job you begin walking again.

“why aren’t you a pretty little thing?” a deep husky voice whispered, that seemed to have come from every direction of the room you were in. your limbs freeze, not sure if you were hearing or if it actually was whispered to you.

you keep charging forward, determined to figure your way out before whoever it was in here could actually mess with you.

“where are you going pretty girl?” your jaw drops in shock and a sinister chuckle echoes making your skin scatter with goosebumps from the tone of voice you had heard.

maybe if you keep quiet, he won’t be able to find you in this dark lighting. you quickly resume walking up until your speedwalking through the tricky gaze of the mirrors. you have no idea how far you are, but you’re unsure if you’ve even made it halfway through.

suddenly a tall figure in reflecting across the mirrors, dressed in all black with a ghost mask face on his head. you gasp at the sight, thighs clenching instantly. you begin whipping around just to find more of his reflection as he’s not behind you, but he’s somewhere close.

“stop it!” you bite out, your chest heaving. he doesn’t answer and you’re caught in a whirlwind, my body moving in in circles, desperate to figure your way out and away from him.

“you come here alone?” the man asked as his reflection as he resumed walking.

you swallow nervously, “obviously.” you whisper, still searching for where he is. it feels like you shouldn’t have said that.

“no one here to save you.” he teases you, crossing his arms across his chest as he halts his actions.

your eyebrows raised instantly, “why the hell would I need to be saved? are you going to hurt me?” you incredulously asked, getting another chuckle out of the man.

“no,” he instantly replies before his reflection is completely taken away you spin in circles, trying to see if he’s approaching you. you were bound to throw up due to the amount of spinning you had done tonight.

hi figure suddenly comes back to the mirrors, now missing his shirt and your cheeks flushed at the delicious sight surrounding you.

“i’m going to ruin you.” you take a hesitant step backwards, nearly bumping into a mirror and watching him intently.

his image moves, his body walking in a different direction. is he coming closer? it’s too hard to see, the adrenaline in your system rising to dangerous levels kept you on your toes.

he’s scaring you.

“run,” he growls “if i find you, i fuck you.”

And you instantly sprained into action, running with your hands slightly extended, bumping into mirrors as you make your way through the maze. after a few minutes, you’re already out of breath the adrenaline and fear are getting to you. your chest is constricted too tight.

you couldn’t help but be turned on as you realize you’re lost and trapped with a stranger, who’s actively promising something if he catches you. chest pumping you wait for him to find you there’s no chance you can outrun him, as he works here and knows the maze like the back of his hand.

breath suddenly tickles your ear, sending chills down your spine. you clench your eyes shut at the feeling of his hot body pressing into your back. he keeps his hands to himself for now, but you know that won’t last much longer.

“i’ll scream.” you threaten through a broken whisper. you watch in bewilderment as he slowly lifts his hand and takes off his mask. he was painfully gorgeous. longer brunette hair with piercing blue eyes, perfectly plump, pink lips pouting slightly as he stared back at your reflection.

maybe i can scream for different reasons you thought to yourself.

you quickly turn around to get a real look at him, that isn’t a reflection for the first time tonight. he’s instantly leaning forward and capturing your lips between his the second you turned to face him.

you were fighting with yourself, unsure if you really wanted to hook up with this really hot stranger in the middle of a mirror maze. testing the waters, you bite down on his bottom lip, a deep groan swirls through your mouth, urging you to bite harder.

he tastes like cherry soda. you can’t help but let a low moan slip past your lips at the taste, not expecting something so delicious. you slightly start to back away as you realize how crazy this is, and his palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you impossibly closer.

you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, lost in the taste of him, lost in the weight of his lips on yours. realizing what you’re doing you release his lip from your teeth, and attempt to pull away again.

he doesn’t let you let go and instead sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. he let his teeth painfully nip at your lip, causing you gasp at the sensation, granting him access and allowing him to explore your mouth.

your pussy responds instantly, throbbing from the feel of his tongue. an involuntary moan escapes as his tongue traced yours, and his kiss turns fierce. you’re running out of air so you have to harshly push yourself away from him and stumble back into the mirror behind you, sucking in several deep breaths, your cheeks suddenly trapped between his large hands.

“give me those fucking lips.” he spits before, forcing his tongue back into your mouth. the kiss was so heated you could feel sweat form at your hairline. your hands travel between your bodies, slowly going up his stomach to a firm chest. you roughly push him away, your lips separating with a audible smack.

“stop,” you begged, foggy and confused from the lack of air.

“what did i say?” he demanded harshly, quickly evading your personal space yet again.

“if i catch you, i fuck you.” he repeats slowly as he leans against the mirror behind you looking down on you, “i know you want this, you’ve been watching me all night, baby.” your breath hitches at his words, remembering all the times you had seen him earlier in the day. you had assumed it was several people, as ghost face was a popular character.

your mouth opens, but the words are slow to tumble past your lips, “you aren’t fucking me in here.”

“why not baby? you afraid i’ll fuck you better than you’ve ever had before?” he asked, placing a wet kiss to your neck, making you shudder with pleasure.

with the way he was acting and speaking, you knew you were going to cave soon. this was just out of your realm so you weren’t sure if this is really something you should do.

“i’ll stop if you really want me too, but from the way your body is reacting to me,” he grins down at you, wedging a thigh between your legs and pressing slightly making your hips buck in an desperate need of attention. “you want this more than you think you do.”

you both stand in silence for a few moments before his long fingers latch onto the zipper of your hoodie, slowly pulling it down. the material parting at a painful pace, and the sound of metal teeth separating seems deafening compared to the silence you were just in.

drake said something about you only live once right? fuck it.

“don’t torture me.” you spit out, your anger flashing from his deliberately, slow pace. a wicked smile flashes onto his face at your desperate tone of voice.

“but that’s exactly what I plan to do to you.” he, he replies, goosebumps rise on your skin once again as begins to brought up your shirt, wanting you to take it off, and i’m reminded suddenly that we are not alone.

“someone could come in here.” you whisper, your voice on the verge of cracking.

the man shakes his head briefly, “It’s just us baby you don’t have to worry about it.”

“i don’t even know your name.” you carry on in order to distract him buying yourself time to recollect your thoughts and process what’s about to happen.

“chris.” he replied instantly, his gaze zoned in on the exposed skin of your lower stomach as he lifted the shirt, higher and higher. finally, the shirt is gone and he leans back towards you, letting his hands drift up your stomach and cup your breast.

he squeezes your breast nearly to the point of pain, before he lowered his head to place a soft kiss to your left nipple, “if we had more time, i would fuck these.” he promises before releasing them and moving his hands to the buttons of your jeans.

this is wrong, so very wrong, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop him from unzipping your jeans, or even when he hooked his thumbs on either side and pulling them down

he helps you out of your shoes and then slips the jeans free, leaving you in nothing but your black and orange lacy thong. chris’ eyes light up upon seeing them, tracing the delicate silk before snapping the band against your skin.

“my favorite color is orange.” he mumbles, biting his bottom lip.

“you have to undress too.” you insist, not liking the feeling of being so exposed what he still had his jeans and shoes on. he smirks down at you and jesters for you to have at it. you undressed him slowly wanting to tease him the way he’s been teasing you all night.

you nearly choke on the air when you pulled down his pants and underwear, finally resting your eyes on his hard cock. without a doubt he was bigger than you’d ever had.

he pulls you in for another erratic kiss, full of teeth clashing and spit being exchanged. the energy between you both is as rising, as you both drink from each other, lust and sparks of fire heavy in the air. as your tongues fight for dominance, his hands slip around your waist and lifts you effortlessly. you wrap your legs around his trim waist just as you feel the cool glass press against your back as he had suddenly moved you backwards.

he quickly grasped your thong, effortlessly ripping the thin fabric from your hips shocking you. you detach yourself from his mouth and look at him in shock. e ignores your look and positions the head of his cock at your entrance.

“spread your pussy for me, baby.” he orders you though gritted teeth. you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal see from your core. a deep red flush stains your chest as you spread your legs further apart. his hands tightens on your hips almost painfully, and you can’t help but hope to wake up with fingerprint bruises left to remind you of this night.

you trailed a hand down your stomach, slowly spreading your lips apart, hissing as the gust of air is now penetrating your exposed sex.

“don’t even think of moving your hands.” he threatens, a second before he’s pulling you down on his dick.

you gasp, your free hand flying to his chest so you can push him off, he’s too much stretching you wider than you’d ever been. you whimper from the stretch, the slight burn, as you can feel his girth slide between your fingers as begins to slightly thrust deeper.

“t-too much!” you whine out, your back arching as he inches his way inside of you.

he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing it rapidly making you back arch further as he continues to work himself inside of you. he finally bottoms out and barely gives me any time to adjust, but the pain is morphing into something far more pleasurable and breathtaking. he slides out and pushes in quickly, a low moan rattling through his chest.

your body feels impossibly full, the sensation driving you wild. your a whining mess, clenching down tightly only encouraging chris to move faster.

he pulls out to the tip and then he slams his entire inside of you. here’s no doubt you could see him bulging in your stomach.

“chris!” you screamed, struggling to keep your hand exactly where he wanted it.

“fuck I can barely fucking fit.” he groans and you can’t help but agree. it must be why it feels like you’re getting torn in half.

he braces himself against the mirror, his body is consumed with the pleasure. shockwaves of pleasure scatter throughout your body as he quickens his pace, roughly fucking you against the mirror while loud noises you’ve never made fall from your lips.

the pleasure is blinding in the feeling of him, sliding in and out between your fingers, only helping to build the pit of your stomach begging to be released.

“i want you to watch the way i fuck you.” chris demands, roughly smacking your clit. it takes everything in you to peel your eyes open and sweep them over the mirror’s surrounding you.

several different mirrored images are staring back at you, being able to see the way his ass clenches as he fills you to the brim, his back muscles tensing, and how good his arms look from supporting your weight.

eventually, your eyes find their way back to his face, a sexy smirk placed on his lips. he leans in close, allowing his lips to barely brushing yours, as he watches you slowly come apart at the seams.

“tell me baby, have you ever been fucked this good?”

you bite your lip and shake your head, fighting the urge to close your eyes as the pleasures starting to become too much. he’s not oblivious to this though, as he changes the position, sliding each arm underneath your knees, and hiking them up higher than they were before. he instantly hit that special spot deep inside of you, your legs begin to violently shake.

“oh my god.” you moan out, this time you can’t stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head.

your stomach is tight and you know your orgasm is approaching, and you can’t help but wish this could last even longer than it had.

“you want to come all over my cock baby?” he darkly taunts, bringing a hand down to your clit again and rubbing expertly.

you nod your head frantically, but he wants words.

“say it.” he spits out, slowing his thrusts, knowing that you were so close to falling off that delicious edge

you let out a whine, “please let me come all over your cock.” out speak through gritted teeth, watching a triumphant smirk make its way onto chris’s face. his fast pace resumes, his dick fucking into you faster than before bringing you right back to that edge yet again.

“come for me baby, wanna feel you.” he groans into your ear and that was all you needed to hear for the band in your stomach to finally snap. you screamed his name as you came, your body convulsing and arching into his.

chris responds in his own moans and whimpers as he slams into you one last time painting your insides until it can no longer fit inside of you. you’re catching your breath as you feel your combined juices pour down your thighs as he slowly lowered your legs, slipping out of you.

chris is breathing heavily in front of you, his eyes dark as he watches his cum slip down your thighs, lifting a hand to scoop it up and offer it to you. you let your lips part and he places his fingers on your tongue, and you take the pleasure of swirling them around in your mouth, sucking harshly. he takes a deep breath as he pulls his fingers away.

wordlessly, chris helps you redress yourself minus your thong that he had decided to pocket once he had put his jeans on himself. zipping up your hoodie, you turn to face mirrors to see the damage your face had gone through. your mascara was smeared, your lipstick basically gone, and your lips were puffy from the brutal kissing.

as you’re doing your best to wipe up the mascara, chris comes up behind you and starts to run his fingers through your hair as it had been tangled from rubbing against the glass for so long.

“thank you.” you quietly speak, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

chris grin back at you, “that was really fun.” he replied, coming to stand beside you and lean against the mirror you were staring at.

you hummed agreement, “i hope you’re from here cause i’d really like to do that again.” he continued, surprising you as you figured this was just a one night stand type of thing, but it must not be to him.

quickly you exchange phone number’s and part ways with a dopey smile on your lips as you were slightly limping to go back towards your friends. checking the time you’re shocked to see that it’s an hour past closing, and your friends texted you saying they were waiting in the car.

you quickly make your way out to the parking lot not missing chris, who was standing by the entrance with a few other team members as they were all staring at you as you made your way towards your friends car.

“where the fuck have you been!?” your friend instantly demands the second you open the door and slip into the passenger seat.

you offer a shy smile, “i got lost.”

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #writers on tumblr #chris sturniolo imagine

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romana-after-dark · 7 months

Text

Guard Dog

Riader!Joel Miler x Dark!fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: Joel attempts to raid the wrong house, and having the Joel Miller on his knees before awakens something in you... and in him.

Content and Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Dub con on Joel (Is it non con? idk. Idk how im supossed to tag this but it's no where near the violence of tww someone help), references to non con from Joel to other women, gun sucking, fem domme, dark!reader but Joel is also dark soooooo, subby Joel, dead bodies, Nick reference (if you read TWW you know lol), multiple orgasms, overstim, dumbification?

AN 1: This essentially came of two thoughts, me thinking hmmmm how to write raider!Joel in a new way? 2. I want to avenge Little One. Joel did her so dirty and is still doing her so dirty in the dark timeline addition, lowkey wanted someone to get revenge for her. Plus, subby Joel is always a win for Fen and Maura lol

AN 2: Shout outs to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @toxicanonymity for talking me through this idea, esp Toxi for letting me use the gun blowjob bit lololol if you like that concept, I encourage everyone to check out toxi's raider joel Or maybe Jake's part in the chasing series

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

Whoever it was, they had chosen to raid the wrong fucking house.

Yes, you were a single woman. Yes you lived alone. But no, you were not helpless, far from it, actually. Whoever it was is lucky they had made it past the set of boobytraps thus far. Actually, it sounded like a few of them had been taken out as it was.

Joel watched in relief as the arrow went through Nick’s skull. Relief it wasn’t him. He never liked Nick that much anyway, real creepy guy. In fact, he didn’t like any of the men that this house had gotten either. It was exhausting, trying to lead a group of dumbasses and whatever the fuck was in here it wasn’t worth it, so Joel attempted to make his exit. Thing was, leaving was proving just as hard as entering was. Whoever lived here didn’t want anyone living to tell the tail. Stepping over the dead bodies of a few of his men, Joel had narrowly dodged more arrows, spikes, darts; the whole lot, until some secret fucking door opened up like a goddamn scooby-doo house and there you were, gun to his forhead.

“Joel fucking Miller, I’ll be damned.”

Joel narrowed his eyes. He didn’t recognize you, but you knew him. That wasn’t surprising, he’d gained a bit of a reputation from raiders, fireflies and regular people. “Who the hell are you?”

You tell him your name, first name at least, and make quick work of taking out the gun in his hand. “Armed with anything else, Miller?” He said he wasn’t, but you knew that was a lie. “Don’t believe that for a second.”

“Then why the hell did you ask?” His texan drawl was prominent, especially when he was worked up.

“More fun to mess with you.” Keeping the gun pressed up to his temple, you press your body against his in turn as you pat him down for more weapons. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome.

“JESUS!” Joel jumped as you grabbed at his ass. “Watch your fucking hands.”

You can’t help but giggle; he thinks he's in charge. “You could be hiding weapons anywhere-” He tenses as you slip your hand between his buttcheeks as much as his jeans allow. “-Can’t be too careful.”

Joel was a brutal man, you heard stories of his rage and carelessness for human life, including women. There’d been many such stories of him forcing himself on women, kidnapping and trafficking… maybe he needed a taste of his own medicine? You take your time on his top half, feeling up every muscle, every bit of pudge, every dip on his broad body. Then, onto the lower. Without hindrance, you grope at his crotch and are very impressed by the size of him; and amused by the way he’s already semi-hard. Men are so easy, it’s funny sometimes.

“This make you excited, Miller? Or does it scare you to be at a woman’s mercy for once? Maybe a little bit of both?”

Joel didn’t look at you, lips pursed in a hard line.

You continue, moving the gun to his pants as you kneel before him to check lower. “I bet this is more your speed isn’t it? Having a pretty woman on her knees?”

The scoff above you doesn’t go unnoticed. “Mighty full of ourselves, aren’t we?”

After taking a knife and a gun that were strapped to his ankle, you stand up, satisfied with your work and the ever-growing bulge in his pants. “I own a mirror, Miller. I know what I got going on.” Degrading won’t work on you. With a nudge, you press him towards your room.

“Yuh gonna kill me?” There was no fear in his voice when he asked. This was a man prepared for death whenever it came.

“We’ll see. Gonna have a little fun with you first.”

Having Joel Miller on his knees for you was a goddamn treat. He looked so good like this, so submissive even if his bratty little face wanted to put on a show.

“It’s natural, you know.” With a glance down, you let him know that you are referencing his half-hard cock. “The adrenaline.” You squat in front of him. “How many girl came when you forced yourself on them? How many felt their bodies betray them? Did you laugh at them for getting wet?”

“I didn’t-”

“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” Your gun was still out, knowing physically he could probably overpower you still. You weren’t weak by any means, but you also were aware he had far more upper body strength, muscles bulging through the seem of his shirt sleeves. The cool end of the gun prodded at his face as he tried to keep calm; the bob of his adam's apple and subtle rise of his chest was giving away his nerves. It was exhilarating, having a man that many feared, the cause of death of so many men, someone of damn-near legendary status and his knees for you… You couldn’t help the reaction the thrill had in pooling in your stomach. It was natural, wasn’t it? That’s what you told Joel.

Using the gun, you move his face around a bit to really take in his features. Strong nose, curly salt and pepper hair, soft brown eyes and lips you just really wanted to make whimper.

“Your quite handsome, you know that?”

An ironic chuckle. “I have a mirror too, sweetheart.”

You can’t help smiling at him as you straighten back up. “Take off your shirt.”

He rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

“Obedient thing, aren’t you? Bet I could train you, bet that’s what you need, isn’t it?” You slip your hand in your pants, feeling up your own wet cunt as the thrill of power elevates things. “Tired of having to decide, having to lead…” Maybe the adrenaline was getting to you, but you suddenly wish you had a dick to make him suck. You don’t, so you settle for the next best thing. You tap his lips witht he barrel of the gun. “Open.”

Joel hesitates, a slight spark of fear in his pretty eyes as he keeps his lips tightly closed, and that just won't do. You slap his cheek with the gun, and as grunts in pain the seal of his lips pops open.

“Ah-mph” His cry of pain was quickly muffled by the gun being shoved in his mouth.

“Suck on it, cowboy. Act like you fucking enjoy it.”

You don’t think he needs to act. Joel sucks on your gun like he would a dick and you furiously finger yourself to his rhythm. As he closes his eyes, you can hear a low groan emitting from his throat and his hands twitching at his side.

“Touch yourself, go ahead.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, his right hand flying to the seam of his pants and palming at his full erection.

“Good boy, good fucking boy” You praise. “Just an obedient little dog pretending to be a lone wolf. Is that it? You just want someone to tell you what to do, huh?” You release the gun from his mouth and can’t help but grin as his lips chase it.

“Y-yes.” Joel admits, face strained in tension as he kept touching himself. Must hurt, being constrained like that.

“Take it out. Eyes on me.” You guide his face to look up at you with the tip of your gun. “Look in my eyes as you do it.”

As he released himself, Joel did indeed look up at you; he looked up at you as if you made the stars in the sky.

Once his cock was out, all 9 or so inches, you take off your sleep shorts and straddle over him but not yet putting it in. “I don’t think I need this gun anymore… but I think you like it.” When you sink down on him, gun pressed to his ribs as a firm reminder of who was in charge, you hold your breath in order to hear the simple whimpers and guttural groans that Joel tried so hard to hide.

“This is where you belong, isn’t it?” You goad him, eliciting a quiet ‘yes’ from his lips. “Under me, belong to me.”

You are speared on him, his dick spreading you open and stretching you unlike anything you had felt before and you loved it. Every chance you had, you felt his muscles, reveling in the fact such a physically strong man was so mental weak for you and only you.

“Can I cum? Please?” Joel begged for you, pleaded ever, lips quivering even as you kissed him.

“Almost there, baby, almost- mmmm- almost there. You can cum after me, okay?”

Joel nodded quick, tiny nods and hesitantly moved a hand to your hips. He looked up at you bouncing on his cock for permission, and when you nod back he goes to thumb at your clit.

“OH GOD!” You shout, breathless, slick all over your thighs and his pants, his touch sending you over the edge. You cum hard, walls pulsing all around him and he doesn’t ask again before spilling his seed inside you, filling you to the brim.

Your body relaxes, but then Joel throws you to the ground causing you to drop your gun and for a moment you thought he bested you, got you distracted; until he dove right into your cunt with no regard for the lost gun. He didn’t care about beating you, he cared about tasting you. As he desperately licked his cum out of your dripping hole, you tugging at his curls, Joel humped the floor as if he hadn’t just gotten released. You pull him close, riding out another orgasm on his face. When you cum a third time, you have to push him back, the overstimulation from the desperate man’s tongue, lips and beard being too much. When you do, he looks up at you with wide eyes as if he had done something wrong, but you pull up and into a kiss before laying him down on the floor to kiss him some more.

“Not sure if I wanna let go of you, cowboy…” You tease, playing with his hair but keeping him firmly pressed to the ground. “Might have to keep you around, but my little guard dog, how about that?”

Joel’s eyes were glossy, his face so fucked out you weren’t sure he was fully cognizant. “Baby boy too tired to speak? That’s okay, I’ll take care of you too. You be the arms; I’ll be the brains. You won’t have to have a single thought outside me again, okay?”

***********

Part 2 here

LOWKEY NERVOUS BC THIS IS SUCH A DIFFERENT JOEL AND HE DOESNT DO A LOT OF TALKING?!?!?!?!?!??! UNSURE HOW I FEEL

Anyway I do hope to write more maybe? so if you wanna be tagged comment below! I liek the idea of having a joel I can kinda just write stuff about whenever instead of a story and an arch and characters to balance. This is just more casual. and i dont gotta go nuts keepingup with posting like my other stories. Im think a v joel tess kinda vibe where she's clearly leading him

I was supossed to be working on the next part to my Javi P x reader x Santi AU buuuutttttttttttt I couldnt get this idea out of my head. So. here you all go! I'll try and work on that, the dark! TF boys, TWW, and the Will Miller story lol its kinda a lot rn

Please consider reblogging and commenting to support your fav writers <3

@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @morallyinept @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @the-fox-den @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @k-ra

If you'd like to join the dark! taglist, click here! this is different from my regular taglist on my main account

If you'd like to join only on this tag list, comment below

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kindestofkings · 5 months

Text

sunshine baby [1]

robert keating x reader (she/her)

faceclaim: gracie abrams (ofc hahah)

authors note: hello hello! this is a really random one, I am a broken record but I am self projecting in these hence why the reader is always home friends with the boys. also theres so many time skips lol

I really home you enjoy, would really appreciate any feedback or comments yee might have <33

2020

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername 2 months into lockdown we are playing, we are hot girl walking and most importantly we are hot girl drinking 💅

view all 20 comments

bobbyskeetz thanks for choosing the most flattering photos luv x

yourusername any time baby any time :))

yourbestfriend i miss you and your impromptu sing songs <3

yourusername no I miss you so much !! boys are really smelly sometimes 😀 yourbestfriend thats what you get for dating bobby SKEETZ bobbyskeetz heyy yourusername I know right?? bobbyskeetz HEYYYY

elijahhewson there is very little going on behind those eyes

yourusername the bulmers was very warm... and we just lost a zoom quiz

joshjenkinson_ keep our boy sane !

yourusername and whos gonna keep me sane?? whos gonna keep me alive? ryanmcmahon_15 did you put yourself on the line?

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend and others

yourusername as y'all know I dabble with playing some piano andddd my very cool, talented boyfriend and his friends asked me to play on a few tunes for their DEBUT ALBUM. thank you for briefly employing me :))

view all 30 comments

joshjenkinson_ no thank YOU

ryanmcmahon_15 we owe you forever, this is so exciting !

bobbyskeetz as your boss can you make me a cuppa?

yourusername and your legs stopped working when?? also you're closer to the kitchen than I am rn!

bobbyskeetz they just cant take the weight of being such a musical success 😔 friend1 @bobbyskeetz how does she put up with you? bobbyskeetz shh dont make her reflect on her decisions

yourmam so proud of you chicken!!

yourbestfriend and the start of your music career is when?

yourusername oh hush you heheh elijahhewson she asks the important questions yourusername why be a musician when you can be a broke college student right 😀

yourusername posted to their story!

if the boys have zero fans, i am dead.

bobbyskeetz so extreme but I love you <3

bobbyskeetz

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

bobbyskeetz EVEN BIGGER NEWS !!! Our greatest hits debut album is coming out on July 16th for all you beautiful people to hear. We poured our hearts and souls into this and can’t wait for you to listen . Couldn’t have done it without @theantski @thedrewmanshow @johncatlin @andrea.cozzaglio and all the other talented people who helped get this record finished.

IT WONT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS !

view all 100 comments

bobbyskeetz ALSO @yourusername for the pretty piano playing

yourusername hushhh rn CONGRATS ON THE SUPERB album

inhalerfan1 i'm seriously so proud of you guys 💙

inhalerfan2 finallyyyy

yourmam well done boys!! huge achievement

bobbyskeetz thank you :))

yourusername

liked by yourmam and others

yourusername it is very cool and a lil strange seeing my fella on posters while im on my daily hot girl walk....

it always be wont this like is out today woooo!

view all 15 comments

elijahhewson I dont remember that photo being taken 😑

yourusername you just release your debut album you gotta celebrate! yourfriend shes just too nice, you were locked.

yourmam lovely photo, why are yee outdoors though? 😂

bobbyskeetz sure we're following covid restrictions! you're looking at four v responsible boys!! yourmam hmmm I don't know about that one now!

yourbestfriend no cause robert and sir hewson would wanna stop looking into my soul..

elijahhewson 😐😐 bobbyskeetz 😐😐 bobbyskeetz what about josh huh he's also throwin some looks yourbestfriend josh can do whatever he wants 🫶🏼 (liked by joshjenkson_ and yourusername)

yourusername oh also everyone compliment ryan on his GORGEOUS hair

yourbestfriend such a power move I adore x yourfriend ryan how does it feel being coolest member of dublin's coolest band?? joshjenkson_ so fit, is he single...?

bobbyskeetz not sure if you got the album name exactly right there..

yourusername huh I dont see anything wrong 🤔

2021

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername the trio is back and just in time to see the boys killing it at fairview park 🔥

view all 15 comments

yourbestfriend forget about them WE are killing it

yourfriend mmhmm we slay 😤

yourbestfriend posted to their story!

when the base player with a staring problem is away, the girlies can steal his girlfriend 🤘🏼

bobbyskeetz oi oi get your feet of my dining table 😤

bobbyskeetz

liked by yourusername and others

bobbyskeetz happy birthday beautiful.

view all 50 comments

inhaler1 this is my thirteenth reason 💔

yourusername miss you rockstar!

inhaler1 miss girl who are you? and can you please accept my follow request

inhaler2 nooooooo you're taken ?!?

ryanmcmahon_15 hundreds of girls heartsbroken with the softest of soft launches haha

lewevans the spooky powers of mr skeetz

yourbestfriend FINALLY you're letting him show you off

yourusername haha this is too much please stop 🥺 🥰

inhalerfanupdates

liked by inhalerfan1 and others

inhalerfanupdates I hope its real cause I need a gun after seeing bobbys soft launch

view all 10 comments

inhalerfan1 im so sad I cant

inhalerfan2 im afraid to ask but how long do you think they've been together

inhalerfan3 i 😭 cant 😭😭 think 😭😭😭 about 😭😭😭😭 it

part 2

#bobby skeetz #robert keating #robert keating x reader #robert keating imagine #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler fanfic #inhaler imagine #smau

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bbrissonn · 7 months

Text

𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐮 - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐳𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬 (𝟏)

╰┈➤kinda nervous lol, making this on sept 22 at 11:51 pm. i came up with this idea for an au after seeing this post from @edwardslvrr like 2 hours ago

╰┈➤ october 8th bri bri here, decided to post this cause why not, it's all i've been thinking about since i started this au in my draft and i really want to make it public so yeah :))) hope you enjoy !!

╰┈➤ pairing: trevor zegras x ex!singer!reader

╰┈➤ masterlist

༊*·˚

-SEPTEMBER 1ST, 2023-

༊*·˚

: ̗̀➛ alannaoregon has posted on instagram for the first time in a while

alannaoregon

liked by jamie.drysdale and 1.8M others

alannaoregon so excited to announce that my sophomore album Tired of U comes out on October 13th !! this has been a work for almost 6 months and i cant wait for all of you to hear it. starting off with “i regret you everyday” coming out September 22th

much love, lana 🩵

view all 5,042 comments

becky.rivera GO BEST FRIEND

alannaoregon @/becky.rivera I LOVE YOU BEST FRIEND

user83 NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC

jamie.drysdale so proud

alannaoregon @/jamie.drysdale love you little one

user920 soooo we all agree on who all of these are gonna be about right…?

user726 trevor went from having 12 love songs written about him, to 14 breakup song 🫢

user02 @/user726 from obsessed with you to tired of u..

sabrinacarpenter so happy to be by ur side and see u grow, cant wait for everyone these masterpieces 🩷

alannaoregon @/sabrinacarpenter love you so much 🩷

user53 the way lana always uses a blue or white heart, but always a pink one for sabrina 🥹

user836 @/user53 glad im not the only one who noticed

user637 BAHAHAHA LIKE 10 OF TREVORS FRIEND LIKED THIS

༊*·˚

: ̗̀➛ alanna oregon posted a new youtube video

“Becky bring your butt over here.” Alanna called out, placing her camera on the counter of her bathroom. Her skincare products in front of her as Becca made her way into the room, waving at the camera once she was in frame.

"I'm here, I'm here." The Rivera girl said as Alanna grabbed her first product and started applying it to her face.

"Hi cuties, it's me, Lana." The singer said in a weird voice, one she used in every intro. Becca snorted a bit, making her best friend giggle a bit. "I am back with my girl Becky."

"That's me."

"And today, we're gonna take for a lake day with us. And through out the day, I am gonna explaining every single song from my next album, Tired of u, that comes out on October 14th." Alanna explained as she moved onto her second product. Next to her, Becca was nodding along to what she way saying, a proud smile on her face.

"Go pre-save it, guys!"

"And we're gonna be starting with a single, I regret you everyday, coming out on September 20th."

"Not gonna lie, I think that's one of my fav." Becky said as Alanna moved onto her third product. The singer had already made her best friend listen to the whole album, but the girl was there for the writing and producing process so she already had a good idea of what the song were like.

"So, I regret you everyday is a pretty self explanatory title for the song. It's pretty much about regretting ever getting into a relationship with someone, let alone even meeting them even if it's something you can't control." The girl started as she applied her sunscreen gently to her skin. "I think it was the second song I finished writing, maybe like a week after my break-up."

"Wasn't it two weeks?"

"I dunno know, doesn't matter. I was just crying on Becky's couch one day and just came up with it, she helped me write some of the lines."

"You can call me Shakespeare now." The Rivera girl joked, causing her best friend to giggle once again.

"Any who, I picked that song to be a single because I think it really gives off the vibe of what the album is gonna be. Also, because Becky said she'd hit me if I didn't put-"

"Lies!"

"If I didn't put out as a single. So, yeah, now you know!" Alanna continued, ignoring the look her best friend was giving her. She quickly cut the camera after that, laughing at Becca's expression that still hadn't changed.

༊*·˚

The next clip was of the two girls in the kitchen, preparing their breakfast for the day.

"I don't know if we said it before, but we're at Becky's family cottage for the weekend, so we're gonna go swimming this afternoon." Was the first thing said in the clip, Becky in the frame as she broke the eggs. Alanna was in the back, doors of the fridge opened as the looked for the milk.

"Then I am taking her out a date to the porch for dinner with the sunset."

"Fun fact for y'all, the photo on the back of the album was taken by the neighbors of me and Becky. So, thanks to them for their contribution to the album."

"And to my dock for being the front of it." Becca added as she now left the frame and Alanna was now the main focus.

"The next song we're gonna talk about is sunset chasing. Now that song was... very emotional to make, because as some of you might know, I am a whore for sunsets, and sunset chasing was something I did a lot with my ex." The girl started explaining.

"Big big whore for them!"

"In the song, the sunset represents like my relationship with said ex, and how I was like chasing after him and his attention even though we were together for years already. And I guess you could say there's like a double meaning I think, like how sunset chasing turned into me chasing him." She added, smiling slightly had Becca's words.

"I was once again present for the writing of this song and contributed." Becca said, walking back into the frame for a slight second, a proud smile on her face.

༊*·˚

"The birds are trying to eat my food!" Becca yelled out, a loud laughing coming from Alanna as she filmed her best friend shoo away the birds. The two girls were now outside, their breakfast in front of them as they sat on the porch, from which they had a nice view of the lake.

"Becca, don't hurt them!" Alanna said from being the camera, making the girl in question look at her like she was crazy.

"They're going for my food, Lana." There was a cut after that, and then the two girls were sitting around a round table as they slowly ate their food.

"Can I introduce this song?"

"Even if I say no, you'll do it anyways, Becky."

"Damn right I will. Anyways, guys, the next song is called 11 feet behind!" Becca announced to the camera giggling a bit after saying the title of the song. "What's that song about, Lana?" She asked with wiggling eyebrows.

"That song is about always feeling like you're always behind in your relationship. Like people know more what's going on in your relationship than you do, which, fucked up for one, and two really sucks, because it makes you feel like you mean nothing to your partner."

"Guys, let me tell, my girl did not hold back with this one." Becca giggled while talking to the camera. When Alanna had told her best friend she'd be using Trevor's number in one of her song titles, the girl gasped, calling her crazy because of it.

"I am speaking the truth."

"I'm so proud of you, lanny." Becca said randomly, looking over at her best friend. Alanna laughed a bit before giving the girl a big hug, laughing a little.

༊*·˚

"We're getting Starbucks!" Becca yelled out as the next clip started, Alanna's laugh being heard once again. The two of them were now in the car, Becca driving as the other girl sat in the passenger seat, holding the camera so they were both in frame.

"Which is like totally crazy 'cause the next song was written in a Starbucks."

"What a coincidence."

"Right!" The two girl joked, their chuckles echoing in the car before Alanna focused back on the task at hand. "Anyways, it's called Friend Stealer. Long story short, it's about getting dumped by a guy so he can go date one of your friend, that he met through you."

"Snakes." Becky could be heard whispering in the back.

"And the reason why it was written in a Starbucks is because I just wanted to leave my house, get some caffein, and as I was just sitting there thinking about the whole thing, the lyrics just came to me. So, I wrote them down in my notes, typing like a crazy lady on my phone."

"She was gone for like three hours, I was so worried!" Becca said, making Alanna roll her eyes slightly.

"Okay, that's a bit dramatic, I was gone for like, forty-five minutes maybe."

"Still scared me."

"Moving on, that song was probably what helped me really get over my break-up, well more like started the whole moving on process. I was really just writing what I was feeling and yeah, that song was born. It was the first one that I found the melody for, but I think it was like, the forth I wrote, and that's when I decided I was making an album." The singer explained with a shy smile, recalling the happiness she had felt after finally writing out all her anger.

༊*·˚

"We're back in the car! Becky, what'd you get, girl?"

"I got a grande iced coffee with a splash of cream, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut." The girl explained her order, shaking her drinks around. "How about you, m'lady?"

"I got the same as always, my sir. A venti brown sugar oatmilk shaken expresso, only three pumps of brown sugar, three pumps of white mocha and no cinnamon."

"For all of you who didn't know, Lana's my sugar mommy, and she paid for my drink." Becca spoke, grabbing the camera for it was focusing on her. Her best friend scoffed a bit before bringing back to camera on her as Becky started to drive.

"Killing us softly is the name of the next song we're gonna be talking about. The title pretty much says it all, it just talks about how someone in a relationship just doesn't care enough and it's slowly killing their relationship." The clip cut right after the girl was done talking, and the next clip was of her sitting in her bed, filming on her phone with her headphones on.

"Guys, my camera died, oops. And at first Becky and I were gonna go to Target, well we still did, and film the next song in the car. Obviously, we couldn't do that, and my dumb ass forgot to like, go to the song we were gonna do in the car. So, here it is!

It's called mascara stained cheeks, once again, title says it all. But, it goes more into details about how toxic my relationship with my ex got, and how much he made me cry. Small reminder, that crying often in a relationship because of your partner, is not a healthy relationship, never has been and never will be. With that being said, next clip! Wait no, disclaimer, I got a little lazy with these, oops again, so the clips are pretty short. Okay, now, next clip!"

༊*·˚

The two girls were now laying on their chests on sun bathing chairs. The camera was set up on a small table in front of them as they both pushed themselves up on their chairs.

"30 seconds. Wanna do the honor's of explaining this one, Becky?"

"Yes please. This song is about how much of an asshole mister tiny dick was."

"Becca!"

"What? He was. Mister tiny dick broke up with my goddess of a best friend over a phone call, that lasted a solid 30 seconds." The Rivera girl explained, as Alanna gave her stern look.

"Becky, I'm gonna get demonetized because of you."

"Not my fault he had a tiny dick."

"Becca!"

༊*·˚

"Guys, it's editing Lana here again." The girl said, once again sitting in her bed. " So, apparently, none of my footage for the next three songs saved, yay. So, I am gonna have to do this little explanation segment again.

Okay, crushed mind. My baby, the second song I wrote, uhm, I pretty much got emotionally cheated on, so, my mind crushed. Oh my, God, I suck at explaining when I am alone. I feel so awkward just talking to my phone. Ugh, anyways, yeah, I don't know what else to say for that one.

Moving on, i miss u, this one I'm gonna explain so good, just watch, well listen... and watch. It's about missing the person your partner used to be, feeling like they've just become this whole new different person than the one you feel in love with. Which hurts, a lot. But, you know, people change, you can't get mad at people because of that... but you can write songs about it." The girl said, giggling slightly at the end.

"Last song that vanished, spinning circle, talks about conversations with my ex, would just be a spinning circle, I know the saying is like cycle or whatever, but the circle part is explained in the song. I can't tell you right now though, 'cause then I'm... I'm spoiling the like plot twist in the lyrics. Anyways, my camera figured itself out after that clip, so yeah. Back to Lanny and Becky from a week ago."

༊*·˚

The two young adults were sitting on the paddle board, which was tied to the dock so they didn't float away. The sun was beaming on them as their wet skin reflected the light slightly.

"I felt a fish touch me!" Becca gasped just as Alanna was about to speak.

"It's a fish, it's not gonna kill you."

"No, but you know what will, forgiving." Becca said, winking at the girl, clearly proud of herself for the word play. "Get it? 'Cause the next song is... forgive."

"Go you, girly. Forgive, is about forgiving myself for the pain I caused myself during the end of my relationship. Like, I knew it wasn't healthy and all, I knew I should've broken up with him, but I didn't. And it ended up hurting me a lot, and I wrote that song last, kinda like a letter to my past self, forgiving her for making me hurt."

"If any of you though it was about her forgiving mister tiny dick, you weren't alone. I though so too, and I almost wacked her when she told me." Becca said, using the nickname she had for Trevor once again. "Don't look at me like that, you're not gonna get demonetized!"

༊*·˚

"Okay, friends, it's now bedtime for us. We decided not to film after dinner, because we ended having a little heart to heart in the car after, and we just didn't really feel like it. So, we're gonna speed run the last three."

"Heist!" Becca called out. The two best friends were once again in the bathroom, now doing their nightly skincare.

"Going on a heist to get the smallest bit of attention from your partner." Alanna answered.

"heart n soul."

"How hurt my heart and soul were after my break up."

"Last one, tired of u!"

"Tired of... them. Yeah! No, uhm, I am gonna take a little more time on this one since it's also the name of the album. Tired of u, is just about how tired I was of how my old boyfriend was treating me and acting around me. And the reason I picked that name for the album, is because it really describes how I feel towards him still, and our relationship, even now. Overall, just tired of everything related to my old relationship, the media, the comments, just all of it."

"I got tired of him, too, Lanny." Becky said right before the clip cut, making the singer chuckle slightly.

༊*·˚

"Okay friends, we're now in our matching pjs, and we're gonna go to sleep now. So, thanks for hanging with us today."

"Don't forget to go pre-save the album!"

"And yeah, I'll see you guys soon. Bye bye!" Alanna said before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the lens, which Becca than repeated.

: ̗̀➛ comments

user80 the way every time she vlogs she always struggles with the camera- she's so me

user001 so excited to hear these songs, all of them sound so interesting !!!

user719 guys i think she's gonna release sunset chasing as a single before the album drops cause she did the whole album in order, expect for i regret you everyday and sunset chasing

user412 @/user719 OMG YOU'RE SO SMART alannaoregon @/user719 shhh bestie you're gonna ruin the surprise user719 @/alannaoregon OH MY GOD OH MY GOD HIIIII

#bri writes #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #tired of u au

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