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kentocidal · 10 months

Text

lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin.

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends.

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively.

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.”

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you.

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable.

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou.txt #kirishima.txt #ask to tag.txt

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starkwlkr · 3 months

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the hamilton girls | lewis hamilton

based on dave grohl’s interviews about his daughters <33 he’s my favorite girl dad i can always trust dave grohl

Lewis Hamilton was many things. A Formula 1 driver, a seven time world champion, an idol, an inspiration to many young kids, but most of all, he was a husband and father to three girls. His family was everything to him. He enjoyed being a dad to his three precious girls.

Maeve was his oldest. She was born on a sunny day in 2013. Then came his second, Violet, born in 2017. Violet instantly became Maeve’s best friend. Lewis and Y/n were thankful that Maeve didn’t go through a jealous phase. Lastly, came their third girl, Gracie, born in early 2020.

The Hamilton girls would join their father in the paddock when they didn’t have school. Dressed in Mercedes merch, they walked hand in hand with their mother to the Mercedes garage. The entire team loved them, it was impossible not to.

“Dad! I really want lemonade!” Violet poked Lewis’ side until he payed attention to her.

“There’s no lemonade here. Have some water.” Lewis suggested, but Violet frowned. Lewis didn’t want his daughter to be upset so he directed the girls to Mercedes hospitality in hopes that someone could make the girls a lemonade. In the end, his three daughters ended up with their lemonade.

At one point, they even because Twitter famous whenever they were at the races. Violet had a habit of sleeping even before the race ended so when the camera showed Lewis celebrating his win, the camera panned over to Lewis’ family showing little Violet asleep with her mouth slightly open in her mom’s arms.

Maeve was half asleep, but she still made a heart with her hands. Gracie was with her grandma, but you were pretty sure she was asleep as well.

But when they weren’t attending races, the Hamilton girls were back in school. Whenever Lewis had time off, he would pick up the girls from school, giving you some time to yourself. He knew how the school pickup process was, what he didn’t know was how long it would take. When it was finally his time to park in front of the school, a teacher walked up making Lewis roll down the window.

The teacher was taken by surprise when she saw Lewis. “Um . . Who are you here to pick up, sir?”

“Maeve and Violet Hamilton.” He replied. Then the teacher nodded and walked back to the school. Seconds later, his two girls walked patiently towards their dad’s black Mercedes. Lewis could feel the other parents staring at him. It wasn’t everyday that Lewis Hamilton came to a children’s school.

Maeve opened the backseat door and climbed in along with Violet. They looked exhausted, probably from all the running they did during recess.

“How was school?” Lewis asked as he drove away.

“We went to the library today and I got a book. It’s about sports and your face is in it.” Violet said as she got the book out from her backpack.

“Really? What does it say?” Lewis questioned, curious as to what the book said. The girls weren’t really interested in formula 1, so he was confused as to why Violet even checked out the book.

“It says you won seven titles and then i stopped reading because I was bored. I only got it because I wanted to show you and mom that uncle Nico was in the book too.”

His girls always made him laugh. They could brighten up his day even if he was at his lowest. He was such a proud dad too, often bringing up his daughters during interviews and posting pictures of them on instagram. During his Jimmy Kimmel interview, he took any chance he got to talk about his family.

“And do your daughters understand that their dad is a seven time world champion?” Jimmy asked.

Lewis chuckled. “They don’t really care.” He said then the audience, along with Jimmy, laughed. “No, they know what I do for work, but when they were younger they thought I sold cars.”

“You sold cars? How did they come up with that?” Jimmy laughed.

“Their mum explained that I work with cars, that was all, so they assumed I sold cars because at home I have several. Then I think it was the Monaco Grand Prix where they finally got an understanding of what exactly I do. They watched the race and when it was over, I asked them what they thought of it and all I got was ‘I don’t know’ and that’s when my wife said that halfway through the race they asked her for her phone so they could watch their cartoons.” Lewis explained.

He remembers that day clearly. The girls weren’t interested in cars, they rather watch reruns of Gravity Falls. He wasn’t mad either, he was glad that they didn’t get frustrated and start causing chaos around the paddock.

Him mentioning his girls because a regular thing. During press conferences, he was often asked about his girls, more specifically if they would follow his footsteps into the world of F1.

“They don’t even care about the races.” Lewis said as the other drivers bursted out laughing. “My oldest, Maeve, she did have a phase where she liked cars, but she’s transitioned into learning about dinosaurs. She says she wants to be an paleontologist so I don’t have to worry about her.”

“Her birthday is coming up, no?” Max asked. “I’ll buy her one of those fossil kits. I think she’ll love it.”

“And what about your other daughter?”

“She falls asleep every time, I don’t think we will see her racing anytime soon. I’m telling you, they don’t care.” Lewis laughed.

“They don’t care about your world titles?” Charles asked smiling.

“They don’t care! To them, I’m just their dad. They’re like ‘daddy, I need my lemonade now’ it’s kinda funny actually. But I love my girls.”

The Hamilton girls loved their dad to death, it was clear, even if they didn’t care about his world titles or his reputation in F1. He was the best dad to them and that was all they cared about.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lh44 #dad!lewis hamilton

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blue-jisungs · 4 days

Text

soft-hearted jealousy

#author's note ... i love wonwoo so fucking much did i ever guys tell u that. anywho this one is for zanzan bc i got inspired when we watched the kode ep <//3 and big big biiiig shout out to my beloved @l3visbby for proofreading <3 love u mother

#summary ... you're a little jealous of wonwoo n kerias frienship<//3

#word count ... 986

pssst the fic is referencing this cute vid:( wonwoo looked so good in it btw like what the actual fuck. also keria is my height and i fainted when i saw them hug bye

the door opened with a soft click and then all you could hear was soft patting of wonwoo’s footsteps against the wooden floor.

sighing, you switched youtube to instagram and tried to act unbothered. but how could you? a reel of a new video featuring your fiancé popped out. a video you have just watched and it made you… a little jealous.

“bedroom?” wonwoo called, trying to locate you.

“yea” you hummed back, loudly enough for him to hear you. scrolling down, you noticed another reel.

the love of your life with a cute, gamer boy.

puffing your cheeks, you decided to exit instagram as well and check if you had any mails or texts.

wonwoo entered the room, a small crease between his brows.

“is everything alright, darling?” he asked, voice smooth as honey. which pissed you off even more. how dares he sound so attractive when you’re mad at him?

“yes” you grunted a little too sulkily, drawing his attention.

“oh really? because you didn’t run up to me once i entered the house” wonwoo teased and walked up to the bed, stretching his arms. you lost the battle with yourself and watched him, biting the inside of your cheek. how could one look so good in a plain white t-shirt and jeans?

“yeah, im fine. how was your day?” you sighed and looked away once you saw he noticed your gaze. with a small smirk, he laid down next to you. the mattress dipped under his weight but that restored the balance – it somehow felt empty when he wasn’t there before.

“it was good. me and mingyu did a live… i talked to my new friend… we might play a bit today” he answered, eyes tracing your face “oh, the video is out! did you see it?”

you hated how excited he was. and how much you liked it. keria is…

“cute. i liked it” you mumbled and turned his back to him, fighting a smile. this is ridiculous.

but it’s just not fair that wonwoo looked so handsome in that video and threw some flirty comments. he was so cocky in it too…

“cute? yeah, keria is so adorable” wonwoo chuckled and you looked at him through your arm, shooting him a glare “what? what is it?”

“nothing” you grunted. wonwoo’s lips broke into a grin, finally figuring you out.

“something is clearly wrong. come on, talk to me” he purred, his hand sneaking its way under your t-shirt.

“you looked good in the vid” grunting, you tried to surpass a smile. the warmth of his skin on yours sent shivers down your spine but your tried to remain calm. and not fold.

“really? thank you, darling. keria said he liked my jacket” your fiancé hummed and leaned a bit closer, fingers tapping gently against your ribs.

you couldn’t control the huff that left your lips.

“we got along really well, i like his company. he’s so sweet” wonwoo continued to tease you and apparently that did the trick.

“if he’s so sweet why don’t you date him, hm?” murmuring, you tried to hide your face in the pillow. wonwoo’s fingers ghosting over your skin in a circular motion made you melt, making it impossible not to crack.

“oh?”

“forget it. go play your stupid games” you scoffed and wanted to move further away from him but wonwoo was quicker. he pulled you closer, calloused hands resting on your hips.

“are you, perhaps… and i might be wrong here… jealous?” wonwoo’s cat-like adorned his features and you turned around, finally facing him. ebony eyes looking at you with amusement but also love, so much love, in them.

“yes, you’re wrong” you finally broke and cracked a smile, poking his buff chest. wonwoo tenderly grabbed your hand, placing it flat against his chest. his heartbeat softly drummed beneath your palm, making heat rise to your cheeks.

“come on, you know i would never…” he started and you shook your head.

“it’s stupid and not that serious” you whined, covering your face with your other hand “it’s not the way you were… so flirty… and charming…”

“oh, pretty” wonwoo laughed wholeheartedly, the warm sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom.

you leaned closer and hid your face in his chest, the smell of cologne filling your nostrils. his tender hands moved to the back of your neck, massaging it gently.

“i made my angel jealous… by talking to my friend?” wonwoo sighed dramatically and you could hear the smile blooming on his lips.

“it wasn’t just talking! you were so flirty…” your voice was a bit muffled by the material of his t-shirt “or i just… don’t know. you were really something that day, you know? so what if i’m a little jealous, i just don’t want to share you with the world… that much”

wonwoo’s heart skipped a beat and he observed how you raised your head up. eyes meeting his, cheeks dusted with pink. you were so cute like that… cuter than keria.

“can i make it up to you?” he hummed, hands trailing to cup your face.

“a kiss. and no flirting with others, even if it’s a cute guy” you pouted and wonwoo leaned, capturing your soft lips in a sweet kiss.

before you had a chance to deepen the kiss, he leaned away with a small frown.

“but you do admit he’s cute, right?” your fiancé asked and you smacked his chest lightly.

“i wish we could adopt him” you laughed, and a grin formed on wonwoo’s face.

“i’m afraid he’s a little too old for that…'' hiding his face in your hair, you decided to wrap your arms around his waist.

“he’s 21… still a baby…” you huffed and shortly after, the sound of your laughs mixed in harmony. you guessed you might forgive him, it wasn’t really serious in the first place.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,,@mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee

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lnfours · 7 months

Text

number one boy | l.n

summary: racing is difficult, especially this weekend in qatar. but luckily for lando. he has you as his number one supporter.

warnings: a little bit of angsty/sad!lando, fluff, language, his radio after he crossed the line in qualifying makes me sob.

masterlist | ask box

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

you made your way through the halls, trying to ignore how the sadness and anger in the air of the mclaren garage made your emotions ten times worse. your feet carried you to the familiar area, knocking on the door before peeking your head in.

lando was sat on the couch, head in his hands. he groaned soflty, clearly annoyed, “i said i was fine-“

his head snapped up and met your gaze. you wanted to cry looking at him, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks. you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness, but with the way today had gone, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a mix of both.

he swallowed the lump in his throat, “sorry, thought you were someone else.”

you joined him on the couch, shaking your head, “‘s okay,” you grabbed his hands, “would i be right if i assumed that ‘sorry’ was the last word you wanted to hear right now?”

he nodded back at you, letting out a soft sniffle, “yeah, you’d be right.”

he knew you felt bad for him with the look in your eyes. the way they tried to read his, searching for which emotion he was feeling in that moment. and to be honest, you couldn’t put a finger on it because of how much of a whirlwind he felt. a mix of sadness and anger, with a little bit of disappointment and embarrassment within himself.

overall, he just felt like shit.

you reached over, wiping the stray tear from the stubble on his jaw. the stubble you had grown to be a fan of over the last couple weeks. he let out a sigh, “i just am shit. like i’m honestly so shit sometimes. what the fuck is wrong with me?”

his head fell back into his hands. you poked at his ribs gently, “hey, that’s my man you’re talking about.”

he snorted, “yeah, your man sucks,”

“i think your almost seven million instagram followers and i will have to disagree,” you smiled softly, “plus, you’re sexy. so, you’ve got that going for you, too.”

he let out a laugh, a smile breaking out onto your face as you laughed too, cupping his cheek, “there he is! i got him back!”

he looked over at you and you continued, “you’re my number one boy, on and off the track, y’know? podium or not, you’re still my favorite.”

he pressed a gentle kiss to your palm as he nodded, “i know,”

you smiled, “good,”

he reached over and grabbed at you, pulling you to sit on his lap. you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs straddling his as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck.

“thank you,” he mumbled softly, pressing a kiss to the skin underneath your ear.

“you never have to thank me,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “i’ll always be here to remind you.”

he hummed contently, thanking his stars that he met you and grew the guts to ask for your number that night in monaco, “i love you.”

“i love you most,” he was used to you saying ‘most’ or ‘more’ every time, but right now it made his heart clench as he pulled you closer, “always.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #fluff

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

Text

😈Track 4 - I Did Something Bad

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Alex was standing by the iconic bright blue garage. It was almost time for the rest of the grid to arrive for testing, but he didn’t care about that. All he cared about was George’s post from three days ago. The paddle game and its players were still a mystery to him.

Who has George playing with? And why hadn’t he told him?

Weren’t they supposed to be best friends?

The Thai rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the numerous comments about how the two other players must have been Logan Sargeant and Y/n L/n. And if they were the players then that must mean that they will be the new Lamborghini drivers.

He scoffed out loud. “As if.”

“As if what?” a French voice sounded. Alex turned to look at his new rookie teammate. He tried to give the twenty-year-old a smile. He held up his phone, but the screen had gone dark Theo didn’t need to know that Alex was trying to find gossip like a middle-schooler.

“Just fan theories,” he muttered, opening his phone back up and exiting out of Instagram and back to his messages. His eyes widened as he read through the chat.

Theo’s eyebrow arched. “What’s wrong?”

“George wants us over by the media pen. We got to go.”

The two Williams drivers both started to quickly walk. Alex weaved through the crowds, turning back once every so often to see if Theo was still with him. For half a second, he remembered how he would just leave Logan to fend for himself. The American was often late getting to places because he didn’t know where anything was. At the time, Alex had said that he wasn’t responsible for his teammate.

But now as he was navigating the big crowds at Bahrain, he wished he had spent a little more time with Logan, making sure that he was ok.

However, that was in the past and Alex couldn’t waste time on it. Theo was his teammate now and Logan was off doing who-knows-what. On the inside, he was hoping to never run into the blond again. The American was just another sign of his mistakes.

He always believed that he was the superior of the two, often questioning James as to why Logan hadn’t been replaced farther into the season like Nyck had been.

The team principal always rolled his eyes at Alex.

“It’s because we aren’t Red Bull. We don’t want to drop Logan like Red Bull dropped you.”

That had stung, but Alex always internally laughed. Logan was inevitably dropped by Williams, just like he had been with Red Bull. The only difference is that Alex stayed and extended his contract. Was this how Max Verstappen felt?

Alex was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the back of someone and rammed into them.

“Oh, hey mate.”

Speak of the devil.

“Hi Max,” he greeted back, rubbing his chest. “Did your back get bigger or have you always been this broad.”

Max winced at the inuendo. Wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be a string bean like Alex or George could be.

“Ah, Albono, no need to be jealous that Max can probably bench press more than you.”

The Dutchman internally smiled at the familiar Monegasque voice. Charles had made his way over the moment that Alex ran into Max.

Theo was right next to Alex still, reminding Charles of a lost puppy. He didn’t understand why Alex hadn’t let Logan do that last year if the Thai was fine with it this year. The Monegasque didn’t have time to ask before Lando and Oscar joined the bunch. His green eyes flitted over to George and Lewis who were whispering to each other.

Lando had a grin on his face as he greeted the four drivers.

“Hello mate.” The Briton clasped Max’s hand before going around. Oscar followed in suit.

Theo, a little nervous around the older drivers, tried to make conversation.

“How are the cars looking?”

Suddenly he had five pairs of eyes on him, which maybe would have made others shrink away, but the Frenchman didn’t want to appear weak.

Oscar’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They look good. Maybe someone will win a race this year.” He poked Lando’s side, making the brunet squawk.

“I’ll win if Max decides to DNF.”

The group laughed a bit. Max responded with an huff.

“For the last time Lando, you need to be faster to beat me. I won’t let you pass and if I’m behind you, I’ll just pass you again.”

He had a cheeky grin making Lando pout.

Charles turned back to Theo and Alex.

“How are you two feeling about the cars?”

The two Williams drivers perked up. They had been working hard all winter break to make upgrades. Alex would never admit, but most of the ideas had come from what Logan had said during 2023. They didn’t have a championship contending car, but they would be able to bring in some decent points.

Theo took the opportunity to answer.

“It looks all right. Hoping to make it into Q2 at least. We have good 1-lap pace.”

Lando snorted. “You’ll definitely make it into Q2. I’m forecasting no crashes in Free Practice.”

Theo’s head tilted. “How come?”

“Because there’s not a certain driver on the grid this year. Now maybe I can win a race without having to go around his debris. ”

“Lando you’re such a narcissist,” Max murmured, looking around hoping no one heard him. The last thing the Briton needed was another cancel culture on him.

Lando’s green eyes widened. “What? I’m only saying the truth. Even Oscar was saying something about it this morning. Right mate? Logan will probably never put a foot in the paddock again.”

Oscar looked down, semi-embarrassed, but also, again, he shouldn’t be worrying about Logan anymore. The Aussie looked back up.

“Yeah, I mean, he crashed out a lot and it was all his own faults. It’d probably be better if he stayed away for a bit.”

Max and Charles didn’t seem too certain that Oscar truly believed it. But the look in Oscar’s eyes did tell them that there was some truth. Max wanted to bring up the fact that Charles last year did crash out a few times, but he still had a seat. Charles’s hand on his back made him wait.

It was silent for a moment before George walked up to the group.

“The new drivers are about to walk in. Do you want to go with me to meet them?”

Charles and Max looked at him and eagerly nodded. Oscar and Lando shrugged, but agreed to walk with George. Alex said nothing but still tagged along, which made Theo follow the older drivers.

Time to go see who copped Logan’s driver number.

Alex truly didn’t want to see another car with the number 2 on it that wouldn’t be Logan. It wouldn’t feel great. But Alex guessed that’s what the past was, an emotion that just gnawed on your insides until it went away with time.

He once again ran into someone, but this time it was Lando.

“Lando, why’d you…”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as his eyes were now glued to the turnstiles.

There was no way.

Logan grinned when his eyes landed on the small group. George, Max, and Charles were still walking toward him and you, but the other four stopped dead in their tracks.

“Nice and sunny today?” Logan jokingly questioned as he hugged George first. You made yourself busy with greeting Max and Charles.

You and Logan had decided to show up in the Lamborghini merchandise. Logan was in a black t-shirt but you were dressed in a Lamborghini issued pantsuit. But for the race next week, the two of you would show up in sponsor clothes. The yellow decals looks great against his black shirt.

Charles smiled as he leaned back from the hug. “Looking a bit bee-ish today.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked down your own suit that had bits of yellow intricately designed.

“Charles,” you whined, “now I won’t be able to see anything else. Even our car is black and yellow.”

You let out a huff, but the smile on your face contradicted how you were acting. Logan walked up next to you and greeted the other two, which gave you and George time to talk as well.

“They’re still staring,” Logan murmured as he leaned in to side hug Max.

“Let them.”

The now group of five walked farther into the paddock. Logan had wanted to say something, or even look at the other four, but the look on their faces deterred him. With your arm linked in his, you pulled him along, also not giving him a chance to stop.

“You don’t need them.”

Logan nodded.

Charles leaned closer. “They were so sure that Logan wasn’t going to come back this season. I think Lando was betting that Mick would be in the seat.”

Your smirk grew. “Played them like a violin Logan. Making it look so easy for the rest of us.”

Logan barely glanced back at the still stuck drivers, who turned around to watch them walk away.

“They’re looking at me like I did something bad. But, why does it feel good?” the American male asked. His heart wanted to hurt because of how they treated him last year, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at their jaws on the floor.

Max snorted. “Because they fucked you up last year mate.”

George let out a gasp and put his hands over your ears. “No bad words around the children Max.”

You quickly batted his hands away. “I’m twenty-two George. Also, why aren’t your hands over Charles ‘vanilla is the best ice cream flavor’ Leclerc’s ears instead?”

The Ferrari-driver glared at you. “Says the woman who thinks chocolate is somehow superior.”

The two of you started to bicker as you walked. George, Max, and Logan laughed from behind. Logan pulled out his phone and took a quick picture before opening his schedule to see who he was with for media. He quietly cursed as he looked at the names.

George winced at the photo. “I can’t believe that they’re putting you with Lando, Oscar, and Alex.”

A quick buzz from Max’s phone made him take it out quickly. He smiled as he showed Logan.

“I guess they changed mine. I’m now with you and the wolves.”

Logan tried to feel a bit better about it, but he was visibly deflating. He just hoped that he could sit next to the Dutchman without having to sit next to anyone else.

Thankfully, when it was time, Max had saved him an end seat. It was Logan on the left, then Max, then Alex, then Lando, then Oscar. Logan hadn’t greeted any of them as he walked in, only giving Max a quick smile before they got started. He ran a hand through his hair quickly and his eyes looked over at John, his new PR manager. The older man gave him an encouraging nod as a journalist started to ask Max a question.

To Logan’s delight, most of the questions were for Max about the RB20 and if it would be as fast as the RB19. Max went through the motions to give his most mundane answer he could muster. Logan started to pick at his fingernails as he waited for the next question, which was for him. His head rose to look at the small crowd.

“James McHone, with News 5, question for Logan. Why did you come back to race for Lamborghini after a very unsuccessful rookie year with Williams?”

He wanted to wince, but kept his face neutral. He raised the mic to his lips.

“Well, uh, I thought I wasn’t done and hadn’t been able to show people what I could do. During 2023 season, I had multiple people telling me that Williams was the best I could ever get and to not throw away a good thing. But in the end, to people it seems that I did throw it away. However, now with Lamborghini and Michael, I think I can finally show that they made the wrong decision.”

Whispers went through the crowd at his last statement, but the genuine smile on John’s face made him feel better.

“Melany Lancy, with Circuit Noise, follow up question for Logan. Some drivers have mentioned that a possible return for you hadn’t been something that was believable and that Logan Sargeant should have never gotten into Formula 1. Thoughts?”

Logan took a deep breath before answering. He smirked and rolled his shoulders a bit.

“I know I’m a good driver with the right car, and Williams just didn’t have that for me. I believe that Lamborghini has everything that I require. The team has really listened to me and Y/n, my teammate, during the break. The car was designed for us. I hadn’t really heard any rumors regarding drivers saying I should have never been in Formula 1. But all I can really say is if they drop my name, I don’t own them anything. I’m just here to do my job and do it well.”

Logan wasn’t asked any more question after that, but he could see the embarrassed red start to fill in Oscar’s, Lando’s, and Alex’s faces. He hadn’t heard rumors, but he had heard them say that first hand back in Brazil.

He was quick to stand up and leave once they got the go ahead. He had a big smile as he made his way back to the garage with Max in tow. Somehow, the Lamborghini garage was placed next to Red Bull. On the other side of the navy garage was Ferrari.

The American could only laugh at the thought of them trying to put both Italian teams garages next to each other. Enzo Ferrari would roll in his grave and Tonino would have a fit. He glanced over to Max before lifting his hand in a wave.

“Y/n! Lo sai che a Tonino verrebbe un infarto vedendoti nel garage rosso?” (You know that Tonino would have a heart attack seeing you in the red garage?)

Max’s head whipped at the fluent sounding Italian that left Logan’s mouth. Logan chose to ignore and kept smiling. Even in the Ferrari garage, Charles’s eyes went wide at the sound. The Monegasque’s head turned to you waiting for an answer.

You waved a hand down like being in the Ferrari garage wasn’t a big deal.

“E piu come se Enzo si stesse rotolando nella tomba. Charles aveva fatto una prova del gelato per il suo negozio e ne volevo un po’” (More like Enzo is rolling in his grave. Charles had test ice cream for his shop and I wanted some.”

Logan rolled his eyes. Max just stood there in an utter look of confusion and bewilderment.

“Charles, hai altro da condividere?” (Charles, do you have more to share?”

The Ferrari driver was still frozen as he listened to you converse with one of his engineers in fluent Italian. It scared him even more when he truly realized that Logan was fluent as well. He quickly shut his eyes and shook his head before answering.

“Questi ragazzo. Sono io quello che finira presto nella tomba. Si, ne ho di piu.” (These kids. I’m the one that’s going to be in an early grave. Yes, I have more.)

Charles beckoned them over. Logan took the lead, letting a still very confused Max follow him. He finally found his voice once he stepped into the garage.

“Ok, but what the actual fu-”

“Language!” you yelled, licking the spoon that was currently being used to eat more ice cream. “Charles, I think the tiramisu could use some more espresso. It’s still a bit too sweet.”

Charles muttered something, but wrote some words down in a separate yellow notebook that had “LEC” on the front.

Logan had found a cup of some strawberry and started to eat it. Max stood still but was handed a cup of a familiar green ice cream. He looked up at Charles with wide eyes.

“I thought you said that this was an abomination to the ice cream society Charlie,” the Dutchman said with a smirk on his face.

Charles went a bit red.

“Well, you like it so…” he didn’t finish and just let the words die off. Max just hummed contently as he ate the peppermint flavored ice cream. After Charles finished writing something, he took a deep breath.

“So, when did the two of you learn Italian?”

Your mouth was full of ice cream so you nudged Logan. He put the spoon back in the little cup before answering.

“Y/n and I always thought it’d be funny to learn a language so that we could talk about stuff together and not everyone would know. I wanted to learn Russian but someone couldn’t tell the difference between the vowels.”

You let out a whine at his confession.

“Russian also doesn’t sound as sexy as Italian.”

Without realizing, Max hummed in agreement. Charles went bright red at that as well.

“Anyway, so when we were in F3 together for a little bit, we started to buckle down and learn it. Took about a year and a half to master it but we did.”

The Ferrari driver looked a bit pained as he looked down at his cup. If Logan knew Italian, what had he overheard when Charles wasn’t aware. Logan could only guess what he was feeling like right now.

“Charles, I never overheard anything bad from you. And if I did, it was only constructive criticism. I actually listened to it a lot and it helped with COTA.”

Logan put a hand on Charles’s shoulder to try to convey that he really didn’t care. The Monegasque was never mean or rude toward him, like some orange drivers were. And Logan thinks that’s why it hurts more. The people who were supposed to be his good friends were mean to him. And the people who he wasn’t even that close with were nicer. It made his brain hurt.

You took this as a moment to also confess something.

“Logan also knows Dutch.”

The American went bright red under Max’s eyes. The Dutchman had a big smirk.

“Weet je?” (Do you now?)

Logan didn’t reply in the language.

“Yes, I know some. I’m not as fluent as you are.”

“He wanted to learn it so he could understand most of your other interviews where you talked more about the car.”

“Y/n!” Logan whipped around and yelled. You only shrugged.

“It’s the truth.”

Logan then suddenly remembered something. He turned toward Charles.

“Y/n knows French!”

A spoon hit his head, but the American didn’t even flinch. This time, it was your turn to turn as red as the Ferrari car behind you.

Charles cooed at, surprisingly, the both of them.

“Aw, multi-lingual babies.”

Your head was in your hands. “I am never talking to you ever again.”

“Well that’s not helpful,” a male voice sounded at the front of the garage. Michael and Marissa were both smiling at the group of four. You slid off the table that you were currently sitting on.

“I guess that’s our cue to go. Remember Charles, more espresso, less depresso.”

You led Logan out of the garage as you followed the siblings.

“Je te verrai plus tard petite abeille!” (I’ll see you later little bee!)

You groaned once more after hearing Charles call after you. You glared up at Logan.

“You better be thankful that I love you.”

Logan put a hand on his heart. “Aww, love you too.”

“I still won’t hesitate to run you off the track though.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it tesoro.”

lamborghini_racing has posted

lamborghini_racing didn't throw away a good thing

liked by phoenix95, lamborghini, sargeant4ever, and 3,205,859 others

lambo_f1duo ok, but the caption slays 💅

swift_on_track truly is a reputations era, the black fits are fitting

charles_leclerc look, you even came in your little bee car 🐝

phoenix95 I will run you off the track with said bee car, it comes with a stinger

charles_leclerc ok, no more ice cream for you

phoenix95 I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT DO THAT

f1_gridgang man, this team is going to be top of the grid

lambof1 your honor, I fear they slayed too much

venus2 has posted

venus2 i'd do it over and over and over again if I could

liked by maxverstappen1, sargeantgirlie, oscarpiastri, and 5,305,104 others

lambovsferrari glad to see you back in the paddock bro, wouldn't be the same without you 💪

loscar_no_more BAHAHAHA NOT OSCAR HIDING IN THE LIKES

my_goat_logan you're going to come back even better than before!

phoenix95 picture creds would be preferable 🤨

venus2 oh sorry, thanks max for taking the pictures

maxverstappen1 you're welcome!

phoenix95 I still have Charles in my garage

maxverstappen1 you give him BACK

phoenix95 no.

charles_leclerc THAT'S IT - NO MORE ICE CREAM FOR THE TWO OF YOU (Logan let me out)

venus2 on it

ferrari&lambo_crew by I know that Enzo is rolling in his grave rn and Tonino is on the verge of an aneurism

tswizzlexf1 the I Did Something Bad lyrics >>>>>>

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 it just felt so good

liked by venus2, barnes&noble, dior, lewishamilton, and 5,305,201 others

booktok she's a racer AND A BOOKWORM?? she's just my type

venusxphoenix and Logan's too apparently

y/n.nation I'm digging the new layout and profile

venus2 you're welcome for the books

phoenix95 could have gotten them myself (ily and thank you)

charles_leclerc you're being...too nice 🤨

venus2 she loves me

phoenix95 gag (affectionately) 🫶

charles_leclerc SEE

maxverstappen1 it's her love language

venus2 it's the same as you and max talking about each other to everyone else

charles_leclerc low blow man, low blow 👊😔

rari_lambo_quartet I love them your honor

bee_lamborghini so ready for the first race

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notmyneighbor · 28 days

Text

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Word Count ~ 5.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ doppelgänger sex, body horror

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl

Francis Mosses’ route is almost done for the day.

He normally started with the farthest destinations first and then worked his way backwards, finishing close to his home in the DDD sanctioned apartments.

But there had been a last minute add on, sending him back out again, further from the city and into the suburbs. He’s tired, as always, the early start to each shift, the thin walls of the building that do nothing to suppress the activities of his neighbors taking their toll. He rubs at the drowsy lids that keep insisting on shutting. Almost finished. Just this last one. Humming to keep awake. He should stop on the way home, pick up something for dinner. But that would mean delaying his return. Did he have the energy to even cook?

He’s thinking about you, the pretty young woman that guards the entrance now. The best part of his day. He should get you flowers. Say something, anything, instead of just polite formalities. Maybe today would be the day he found enough courage to express his feelings.

A little more alert now. His eyes flick to the paper on his clipboard. Yes, nearly there. He’s not familiar with this road. The houses are not as well kept. Some even look abandoned. Overgrown lawns. Broken windows. A tendril of misgiving curling around him. Something felt wrong. Maybe he should just say he couldn’t find the address. Offer up this part of the route to someone else working for the company.

But what if the person really needed it? It wasn’t fair to discriminate, was it? That sense of duty keeps his right foot pressed on the pedal. He’s going to finish the job.

He’s reached his destination. It’s difficult to see the numbers, half hidden by the weeds threatening to overtake the mailbox. At least the window panes are intact in this dwelling. Curtains cover the interior completely. The entire home is encased in shadow, darkness that seems to sap the sunlight from above.

The milkman shuts off the engine, easing out of his seat. He’s a little stiff from the long drive, the lateness of his shift. He touches one ear to a shoulder, repeating the process for the opposite side. A satisfying series of cracks. The rear compartment slides open and he lifts the wire rack from storage. The sun is strong against his back, a little perspiration making the white material of his workshirt cling to his skin. He’s suddenly craving something cold to drink. Maybe he should just invite you out. There would be enough time before curfew. Sodas at the local diner. He imagines you blushing that pretty pink shade, your hand covering your mouth. Shyly accepting his proposal.

Francis isn’t really paying attention to the cement walkway he’s traveling on that leads to the front door, ignoring the crab grass poking through the seams of each concrete slab. He doesn’t spare a glance for the peeling paint of the clapboards, the tarnish of the metal doorbell. The door creaks open and he’s got a smile on his face, his customary greeting for customers combined with thoughts of you. Just a heartbeat shy of reacting in time to who—what— waits for him in that dim interior, the hand reaching for the handle of the basket changing course at the last moment, latching onto his wrist and dragging him inside, the basket falling from his fingers, the glass shattering, spilling dairy product over the entryway.

He’s pulled off balance, thrust to one side, barely managing to keep his head from cracking against the wooden floor. Subflooring, not even a proper finished layer. No furniture inside. The home was stripped bare, except for the heavy drapes over the windows, the last illumination from outdoors disappearing from view as the door slams shut. The air is stale, musty. He feels the dust beneath his fingertips. No one has been inside here for a long time.

He’s barely started to struggle to his feet before the creature is upon him. Doppelgänger, he thinks with panic. It has to be. Hands pin his wrists down to either side of his face, his body shoved down beneath the heavy weight of the invader.

It’s not the first time he’s encountered one directly.

Once, when he was younger, he’d gotten separated from his mother at the supermarket. Not paying attention, distracted by the array of goods on the shelves, lost in whatever daydream had overtaken him, until he’d felt the hand on his wrist, the hand that didn’t belong to his parent or a concerned employee or fellow customer, but a doppel. The feeling of claws digging in. Seeking to break the skin, to draw out some blood, just the smallest amount needed to copy his appearance. The pain before an off duty DDD member had thankfully intervened had been sharp, hot, an intensity he’s still never forgotten years later.

This was not that feeling. This is like being submerged into a warm bath, but the water was sticky, cloying. It hurt, but there was something pleasurable about it as well. A kind of numbing tranquility. Pressing against becoming pressing into.

Hold still.

The command said aloud, or in the depths of his mind, he can no longer tell. One last burst of adrenaline making him struggle. The quick, disdainful flick of a claw, the alien’s true appendage, dragging across his skin. He feels the flecks of blood spattering near his collar, hears the wet collisions with the starched fabric.

“God help me…”

The only part of a plea or prayer he can muster. There was no escaping this. He can feel the thing burrowing inside of him. How was it even possible? The doppels only cloned or consumed humans. This merging was something new.

He can feel it digging around in his brain. Sifting through his thoughts.

A DDD establishment resident? Challenging.

Your face. He focuses on it in his mind, recreating each detail of every feature. The scent of you. Summer flowers.

Who’s this?

Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare—

The numbness has worn off. It is no longer a soothing feeling. He is burning from the inside.

I won’t let you harm anyone. If you’re going to be me, then be me. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.

Let me in. Let me in, stop resisting.

Forgive me.

What’s happening? Changing me, I’m not…

Not one or the other. Combining.

Something new.

***

“Francis, wake up.” The doppel’s eyes fly open. A moment of disorientation and panic visible on his features until his eyes find yours in the wan morning light spilling in through the farmhouse window. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Your hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. What would an invader dream about that would make them so afraid? Being discovered? Destroyed?

He reaches a hand to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m here, love. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face slightly and captures your lips again. Hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip. He’s turning, rolling you beneath him.

“My love. Mine.” Tasting your neck. His palm warm and heavy as it dips beneath the scooped neckline of your nightgown. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly, bringing them into stiff peaks. You squirm, writhing beneath his touch, the mouth of your sex watering for him. Always so ravenous. You can never get enough.

You’re not wearing panties. It’s easy for a pair of fingers to slide right into that warm, wet tunnel. Your breath hisses. He steals the next one, his mouth covering yours. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as he begins sliding the probing digits in and out.

“I want to devour you.”

“Yes, Francis, please…”

“Eat you and then fuck you,” the copycat’s voice continues low beside your ear. “You’re mine.” A growl. His tone coarser. A little more of the doppel side of him showing. Possessive. Aggressive. Acting in retaliation to something in the dream he’d felt threatened by.

“I’m yours.” Your pelvis rocks up against his hand. “It’s you that I love, that my heart belongs to.”

“What’s inside…”

“Yes, what’s inside.”

“Mine forever.”

“Forever.”

He moans against your neck. A broken, human sound. Lips trembling. Pressed gently in a line down your body, the fingers still thrusting in and out, tongue darting out to taste between the petals of your flesh, nose digging into your mound as he grinds his mouth against your clit, sucking. Your hand is now buried in his hair, your eyes watching the way the rising sun filters through the lace curtains, dappled light and shadows painting your torso, lighting threads of gold and chocolate in his hair, on the fine hairs that cover his forearms. A haze blooms around him, a shining halo, a precursor to the pink tinged eyelids, the exploring fingers now withdrawn, claws just peeking out, hinting at what lies beneath, his tongue replacing that vacancy, no longer the short one belonging to the man whose body he inhabits but something serpentine teasing inside, unfurling, squirming, reaching deep, fangs teasing the pink flesh outside, the reddened invader’s eyes asking, begging for permission.

You’re terrified, exhilarated, he’s never been there before, not when he’s like this, he’d been so careful to not let the beast out and you haven’t pushed him, it’s only been a week but it feels like so much longer and you want it, gasping an affirmation, fingers tightening in his tresses. The sensation of being so thoroughly tasted, explored, consumed as the intruder’s teeth sink, pierce, lost in that pad of fat above the start of your sex, his tongue buried inside while he sucks, drawing your bundle of nerves taut against the roof of his mouth drives you right over the precipice, the back of your skull digging into the pillows as you keen, whine, whimper, he drags every desperate sound of pleasure he can from you until you can no longer stand it, overly sensitive, overwhelmed, quaking as you see the rising face of Francis Mosses, no longer giving way to the monster inside.

His next kisses on your mouth are gentle, allowing you to recover, stroking your shoulder, carding through your hair.

“Where did you go,” you murmur, suddenly feeling languid, relaxed, your extremities tingling pleasantly in your post orgasmic state.

“You’re not afraid at all?”

“A little. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.”

“It’s difficult to stop it.”

“So don’t,” you challenge.

“Oh, love, we’ve talked about this. I can’t…”

“Kiss me with that mouth. Your real one…”

“You want that?”

“I want you. I love you.”

“Sweetheart…” His tongue spears your mouth. Still human, still holding back.

You reach down, caressing his hardened cock. “What were you dreaming about? Tell me, I’ll chase them away. Won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“Hnggh…” He moans, his breath quickening. His body shifts, his erection nudging your entrance, your splayed legs tightening around him as he penetrates you, his mouth close to yours. “I was dreaming about the past. The day it happened, when I took Francis. He changed me when I went inside him. Weak body but strong mind. Faith. His feelings for you. I was terrified of being lost in that union. Sharing, merging…unmaking and rebuilding my identity. The way that feels, coming apart like that…”

You gasp and he settles his hips against yours, resting his weight there for a moment, buried inside of you. “He made me want to be him. I couldn’t resist. I’d never wanted anything so badly. Until I met you. The want I have for you, love. The sheer ache of it. I would do anything for you. Risk anything, give anything. You have become my entire world, my universe. The thought of losing you, because of a momentary slip of the reins, because of something I’ve done…I can’t bear it.”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You’d asked him about Francis’ end so many times, halting after he’d stated it would be the end of your reason for he, the doppelgänger, to be with you. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Because you’d fallen in love with him. And you felt the same way. You’d risk anything, give anything to be with him. And now you know the truth of it. Why this doppelgänger was so different from the others. Different, because the human whose body he’d taken had irrevocably changed him. Altering his goals, his desires. Tempering the craving for annhilation. Seeking a more peaceful integration. A life with you. The milkman’s final gift.

“I know why you’re scared. I won’t try to push you. I just love you so, so much. I want you to know that.”

“Sweet girl,” he sighs. He’s blocking most of the sunlight now, his face looming above yours. “Just a little. I’ll try…”

You nod. “Let me feel you, love.”

His hips lift. Creeping out of you inch by inch. His eyes changing again. Jaw shifting, mouth evolving. A ripple across the surface of his stretched lips. Teeth parting. He’s entering you again, his cock mirroring the violation of the alien tongue now probing yours. Still gentle, cautious. Your flavor there. Closing your lips over this new shape and texture. Still muscular, smoother, thicker until it tapers at the end, coiling around yours.

Your body is on fire, your earlier release already forgotten as you roll your hips against his. A rough groan. The hand cupping the side of your waist tightens, thumb digging into your flesh. Every time his body collides with yours, the pressure against the bite he’s inflicting sends waves of pleasure through you, your swollen cunt throbbing around his prick.

You’re whining again, a needy, pitiful sound hummed around that foreign tongue invading your mouth, curling and stroking, sharp teeth dripping saliva down onto your lips, sliding over your chin and down your neck.

Then it is Francis’ mouth hovering over yours again, his soft brown eyes gazing into yours as he sheaths and withdraws over and over, a little crooked grin of triumph, pleased he’s done it, he’s maintained control.

“My bride to be, my future wife…” The words becoming temporarily incomprehensible, his face burrowing against your neck. “Forever…eternal…I am yours…” He’s looking into your eyes as he cums, filling you with hot spurts of seed, everything in that gaze begging, pleading, that this will be the time, the future he wants to conceive inside of you coming to fruition at last.

***

You’re watching Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger in the mirror.

Hair tidy, side parted, slicked into place. Dressed in a button front shirt and slacks. Freshly shaved. You love watching him get ready. The care and attention he gives the process. Wanting everything to be proper. Perfect.

“I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” He turns to face you.

“Very dapper. I’m sure everyone will be very envious when they see you leading me inside the theater.”

“I think it will be more the other way around. Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring your dress, your lips and nails painted to match, a deep, dark shade of red. “And what is underneath this loveliness, I wonder?” His fingers tuck beneath the neckline of your dress, trying to sneak a peak at your lingerie.

“If you start that, we’re never going to make it out the door.”

“Would that really be so terrible?”

“After, Francis,” you reprimand gently. You’re not used to rejecting him. But you think it will be good for both of you to get outside, have a date together. You want him to enjoy every element of the human experience. So much of what he knows is based on war, on violence. Sometimes you yourself get so caught up in your work you forget what it is you’re struggling so hard to protect. Not just lives, but the quality of those lives. You want the best for those residents you guard.

You want the best for your fiancé, too.

***

You’re screened at the entrance of the theater.

It’s nowhere near the level of scrutiny you provide working for the DDD; the likelihood of doppels wanting to infiltrate an old movie house was very unlikely. The bored looking attendant barely glances at your ID’s before waving you through.

“That man is terrible at his job,” your beau murmurs as you enter the theater, heading towards a pair of seats near the back row. There aren’t many people present; perhaps lured by the nice weather outdoors. Enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Maybe we should have started the invasion here.”

“Francis!” He’s not speaking loudly, but you look around hurriedly. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m only teasing, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. “No one’s listening, anyway. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste,” he apologizes, seeing your persistent scowl. “Forgive me?”

You tuck your dress beneath you before taking your seat. “I’m not cross with you, I’m just worried.” You didn’t want to draw any attention. As much as you like being out in public like this with the invader, you had to keep reminding yourself that you’re still at war. He’s still seen as the enemy, and no amount of declarations of affection for you would ever convince the DDD of his innocence. It was dangerous for both of you.

“Stop worrying. You’re meant to be having fun. Relax and enjoy this,” he whispers beside your ear. “No one knows. We’re okay.”

You try to comply, willing your furrowed brow to straighten. This had been your idea, after all. He was right. No one was paying any attention to you. Everyone present was seated in front of you, all facing the curtain shrouded film screen. Your doppel’s arm curls around your shoulders and you let yourself melt against him, the tension easing. Trying to recapture some of that feeling you have when you’re together at the farmhouse, away from the city, away from prying eyes. Your own little safe haven.

At last the heavy drapes shift aside, revealing the screen beneath. The sound of murmured conversation is extinguished, the only noise the occasional rattle of a straw in a cup, fingers digging into a box of candy or bag of popcorn. You have some chocolate in your purse. You withdraw it now, thumb dragging along the paper wrapper, trying to be quiet as the film begins.

The Warner Brothers logo appears. Then there is a map overlaid with the opening credits before the focus shifts to a rotating globe. You glance at your companion. His eyes are fixed on the screen. There was the invader’s original goal, so tantalizingly out of reach, that objective shifting to a very normal life with you, pretending to be human.

You squirm a little restlessly in your seat. The copycat’s thumb strokes your shoulder. “Easy, love. It’s okay.” His breath hot by your ear. “I love you.”

The words instantly soothe you. You manage to tear the foil and extract a piece of chocolate, already starting to melt. It was warm inside the theater. You offer it to your companion, watching his features as he takes the rectangular sweet between his teeth, breaking off a section and chewing, considering. “Good. Not as good as the jam. Not as good as you, but nothing is,” he whispers, mouth pressed close to your ear again. He accepts the remainder and his tongue darts out to taste your fingers, reminding you of the previous morning, when he’d invaded you with his real one, your pussy and your mouth teased with it, the familiar warm pulse between your legs asking for more.

You struggle to return your attention to the screen, absently slotting the next piece of candy into your own mouth.

It’s different watching the film again now that you’re older, in a serious relationship. The sheer ache of the tragedy of it all. The woman thinking her husband was dead, killed trying to escape a concentration camp. Falling in love with another man. Leaving abruptly to nurse her spouse back to health after learning he’d survived. The bitter conflict of the backdrop of the world war. Meeting again. Forced to choose between both men she loved. The nightclub owner insisting she leave, promising she’d regret it if she didn’t, a famous line of dialogue that was so often quoted.

It’s impossible not to see some parallels with your own romance. Choosing between Francis and the doppelgänger. A war that encompassed the world, this one not with other nations within that globe but alien invaders. What was the greater sin, betraying your heart or betraying the human race?

You’re quiet as you leave the theater, squinting against the dazzling sun outside. Francis’ doppel offers to drive your car and you let him, staring out the passenger window, watching the brick and mortar surrender to the trees and fields you’ve been missing already.

“This melancholy concerns me.”

You turn to find the milkman’s copy staring at you, eyes darting occasionally to check the road ahead. Empty, as it so often was.

“I’m sorry. I meant to ask if you enjoyed the film.”

“I enjoyed being with you. I always do.” He focuses once more on the path, steering around a deep dip in the ground. “That’s the hole the truck struggled with,” he murmurs. You’re so accustomed to it your body runs on autopilot, maneuvering around it without even thinking. “You’re worried about us being discovered.”

You chew on your bottom lip, silently cursing yourself. “I didn’t want to ruin the experience for you.”

“You didn’t, love.” One hand leaves the steering wheel to cup your cheek.

“I don’t want to get caught. It would kill me to lose you. Absolutely destroy me. I can’t, Francis. I can’t lose you twice.”

You’re jostled as the car abruptly leaves the road, pulling into one of the fields near your house. The doppel hurriedly shifts the gears into park, cutting the engine with a rough turn of the key. He turns to you, one arm resting on the back of the bench seating. “Listen to me. You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”

“You don’t know that, though. Sooner or later someone is bound to find out.”

“Leave the DDD.”

“Francis, we’ve talked about this.”

“Leave the DDD and move in with me. Here. At the farm. Or wherever you want. Just get away from all this.”

“Francis…”

“Be with me. Please, love.” His fingers curl around the side of your neck, his lips brushing yours. “I couldn’t do it. I could never give you up like Rick did with Ilsa in the movie. You’d be safer without me, but how could I ever want that, how…”

“I love you. I’d never leave you. Never.” You kiss him, your mouth rough against his. His tongue strokes yours and the heat you’d experienced in your core earlier returns. Your fingers break through the carefully coiffed stiff strands of hair, returning them to their natural, untidy form. His fingers work on the buttons of your dress, his mouth now laving at that exposed patch of skin below your throat.

You’re so close to home, but it’s impossible to wait just those few more minutes, exiting the car, allowing your body to be pressed down into the fragrant grass. He strokes up your thigh, nudging aside the fabric draped over you, a little hum of appreciation escaping when he feels the new satin that covers you.

You’ve never owned so many pairs of lingerie, so different from the standard fare you’d worn before. You like the feel of it clinging to those intimate places, like the reaction of the doppel every time he reveals them, like unwrapping a gift, fingers shifting each piece, palming your breasts, your sex. He makes love to you under that open blue sky, in that clear air that’s just starting to turn a little cooler as the afternoon bows to evening.

Back at the house, you’re assisted in preparing dinner, steak and baked potatoes and green beans while Perry Como croons in the background.

Till the end of time

Long as stars are in the blue

Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing

I'll go on loving you

“Move in with me,” the pretender says again, drying his hands on a dish towel, then slotting his hands on your waist after you’ve finished sliding the potatoes into the oven. “I want this every night.”

Till the end of time

Long as roses bloom in May

My love for you will grow deeper

With every passing day

“After you meet my parents. Then we’ll move in together. One more week.”

Till the wells run dry

And each mountain disappears

I'll be there for you, to care for you

Through laughter and through tears

The smell of the meat sizzling in the fry pan on the stove makes your stomach growl. You’re starving. Always so ravenous, now. Working up such an appetite.

“Dance with me after dinner.”

“Yes.”

So take my heart in sweet surrender

And tenderly say that I'm

The one you love and live for

Till the end of time

After dinner, in his arms as promised, he steers you in a neat circle.

“I had a wonderful weekend with you.”

“It’s not over yet.” He kisses your neck, his hands sliding over your abdomen. “I hope…”

“I know. We’ll keep trying, love.” You want to give him a child. That fear still there. Discovery. You were never as devout as Francis had been. Would it be blasphemous to pray? To ask for help, protection, mercy for a creature that was so reviled?

He switches off the record player and the final lamp in the living room. There is now nothing but moonlight to guide you.

He settles onto the couch. You sit beside him. The ticking of the grandfather clock is loud in the sudden stillness. Your mouths collide. A different kind of hunger afflicting you now.

“You’re still hiding from me,” you chide gently, sliding a hand over one thigh, moving to the front of the fly of his pants, where the bulge fits neatly into the curve of your palm and fingers.

“About that,” he murmurs. “Partly it’s for fear of losing control.”

“You won’t,” you reassure him, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Partly because I wanted to fill you with human seed. Our best chance to make a baby.”

“And the other part?” You prompt, sensing there is still something left unsaid.

“I’m not sure if you’d like it.”

“You mean find it appealing?”

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“I love every part of you.” Your hand squeezes and he sucks in his breath sharply.

“You really do, don’t you?” This said with a kind of wonder and disbelief.

“Is it really so strange? You find me attractive, and I obviously don’t look like your kind.”

“You are beyond attractive. You are gorgeous. The softness of you. That texture. The flavor…” He kisses your jaw. “I can never get enough.”

“So you can relate to that feeling of being addicted.” You’ve slowly begun to unfasten his belt, now working on the button and zipper.

“I wonder how much of that isn’t a result of the bites.”

“I think that contributes to it.”

“I didn’t know they’d have that effect.”

“It’s all new. Uncharted territory, didn’t you call it?”

He hums in agreement, the sound changing to a moan when your fingers dip beneath his briefs. “I’m tempted.”

“Do it.”

“What if you don’t like it? It would ruin things…”

“No. I want it feel it. In my hand. In my mouth. Inside of me.” He shudders against you. “I love you, my doppelgänger.”

A growl. The leash slipping. He nips at your ear lobe. “Sweetheart, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. It’s all for you…”

Heat against your hand, not the customary warmth of that reproductive organ but something else, a scalding kind of sensation. The flesh morphing, rearranging beneath your fingertips. Growing slicker. Reminiscent of his true tongue, the structure thicker at the base, narrowing at the end. Root, tentacle, something else, no word for that pulsing member you hold in the near darkness.

He’s sweating with the effort of restraining himself, tasted every time your mouth touches his, salted kisses accompanied by your hand cautiously sliding along the length, exploring, forced to stretch your arm as you caress the alien’s cock, finding the head at last not so unlike the human one, ending in a kind of domed, mushroom shaped tip. Fat, thick, it would definitely stretch you. The thought of it makes you shiver, your body drooling arousal.

“Does it feel good? I don’t know if I’m doing it right…”

“It is…” He says a word you don’t recognize, something in his native tongue. You can’t replicate it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you my name. You could never say it. Even what I just uttered isn’t quite…fuck. Right there. Oh sweet girl, you’re always so perfect for me. Sit on it, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”

Your heart is pounding as you stand long enough to pull your dress off overhead and remove your panties, climbing over the doppel’s thighs, that foreign prick tapping impatiently against your bare stomach. His hands clutch your buttocks as you raise yourself, guiding his dick into position. Your breath saws in and out roughly. Almost panicked. But so aroused. It’s too late to stop now. You’d asked for this. You asked for this and now…oh. Inside of you. A burning stretch, like having your maidenhood taken again for the first time. A whimper escapes you. Somewhere between pleasure and pain. Blurring from one to the other. Filling you. So warm inside. You can’t possibly fit all of it in there. A sob of frustration.

“My love,” he croons soothingly. “Our bodies weren’t meant to fit together, the anatomy, you can’t…”

“I want all of it,” you say stubbornly, disappointed. Feeling like you’ve failed him somehow.

“Look at how well you’ve done, sweet girl, letting me inside…” His hand strokes over your abdomen and you mirror his movements, feeling the bulge there. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”

Your hands grasp his shoulders as you lift yourself up, supported by his hands, some supernatural strength from the invader providing assistance. Back down again. Up and down. A rhythm building. You’re getting used to it, slowly but surely. That tender ache within you starting to evolve into something else. A coil of pleasure knots your insides.

“Tell me your name. Even if I can’t say it…to hear it…” A foreign word. “No. From your tongue. That mouth…”

“Risky, love. Can’t…” The hands holding you are shaking. “Even this is…”

“What…what is it? Tell me.” You’re properly riding his cock now, grinding yourself down as far as you’re able.

“It’s dangerous. The desire to be let out…tear free…love, it’s…I can’t stop it…”

The coil inside of you snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. There is something else, something searing hot spilling into you, the stream of it running out as he lifts your body clear of his, then cradles you against him.

“You didn’t warn me,” you chide softly when you’ve recovered, your fingers gliding curiously across the trail of slick cum streaking your thighs. “There’s so much of it.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise.”

You slap his arm playfully, then rest your forehead against his. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Are you sore?”

“A little. It’s okay.”

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“I wanted it. I don’t regret it. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“My love, what am I going to do with you?” He says in mock exasperation.

“Hopefully marry me.”

“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Speaking of which. We need to plan that out. The details of where and when.” He makes a little disgruntled sound. “Can we go take a bath? This is getting rather…unpleasant.”

You can’t disagree, the feeling of being so damp and sticky, the decreasing temperature and congealing nature of the ejaculate getting more and more uncomfortable to be lingering in. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs. We can plan things out while we wash up. Then it’s bed time. We both have work in the morning.”

“I love you,” he says softly. “I’m so grateful you love me. The real me. I like being called your doppelgänger,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss before you scoot off his lap, allowing him to stand. You manage to find your discarded clothing.

“Well, it’s the truth. You are mine.”

He hastily buttons the front of his pants to keep them from sliding down as he rises, reaching out to take your hand, leading you to the foot of the staircase.

“Do you have a last name?”

The doppel chuckles. “Get upstairs, you.”

“I think I’m entitled to know, seeing as how I’m going to be your wife.”

“I’ll tell you my real name. Soon.”

Another kiss in the dark, the promise of a shared secret.

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor

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moviestarmartini · 4 months

Text

la playa - jude bellingham x reader

" yo te lo hice a ti en la playa / justo al frente de la orilla / ella y yo no somo' nada pero solo entre comilla "

pairing: jude bellingham x latina!reader

summary: situationship!jude asked to spend the summer vacations with you. he's been looking at you with something other than his hungry eyes for some time now.

wc: 2.0k

warnings: really short instagram aus at both the beginning and the end, situationship where they both clearly fell for each other but won't discuss it, pet names in spanish, NSFW, semi-public sex, soft dom!jude if you squint, teasing, p in v, praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all), creampie, cockwarming, fluff (aka two big goofs in love).

A/N: i haven't written a fic in more than a year but i'm on break from uni and this man has been plaguing my every thought UGHH i'm also tired of january, it should be spring break already so i'm manifesting that energy into both this fic and the new year !! reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :>

now playing... la playa by myke towers

yourusername verano contigo 🤍

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, settling your phone down after the content had been uploaded.

You met Jude by spare chance. You’d been living in Madrid for a bit more than a year, occupied with your studies by the time the star boy reached the promised land. Jogging in Valdebebas at six thirty in the morning and having a black car pull up next to you was the way you were sure you were leaving this earth, instead finding a footballer asking for directions at the other side of the rolled-down window.

You easily discover the real reason later on. He was not lost, but had seen you around the residential complex; he’d only gotten the courage to talk to you after taking a big jug of coffee that morning, or so he claimed.

You’d noticed he had been staring at your glistening skin as you tanned your backside, but decided against commenting until the cheeky smile started to blossom. “Nothin’ “ He shook his head, but a tiny smile was half hidden behind his plush lips, giving away other intentions. The sun was so bright it was dazing, you’d sat under it for a while now hoping to darken your skin. The heat felt funny inside your tummy, similar to how Jude made your guts churn whenever he hooked your legs over his shoulders. “You’re sitting too far. C’mere.”

“Jude, mi rey, we’ve been holding hands the whole time I’ve been tanning.” You replied shortly, looking at him from behind your shades.

“Not close enough.” He practically whined, tugging at your arm with need, coercing you to get up and sit on his lap under the shade.

“Better?” You asked from your newfound place in his crotch, warm bodies coming in contact as you settled. You noticed him nod, his arm wrapping your waist in a way his forearm rested against your bare abdomen covering your belly button.

“Why won’t you post me?” His lower lip puckered out, eliciting a laugh out of you as you turned to face him briefly before turning towards the vast ocean in front of you. A small groan left his lips at the innocent movement.

After analyzing the vivid memory of his face, and thinking through your words, you spoke up. “Didn’t know if you wanted me to.” Once again, got comfortable in his lap. A sigh followed, coming from the man behind you.

“Have I ever told you how much I like that bikini on you?” Jude spoke after a minute or so of comfortable silence. You felt him toying with the drawstring of the bottoms. You could also feel something poking at your bare ass. “But not as much as I like you…”

“I think you’ve mentioned how you wanted to take it off.” Your voice barely came out; a mumble almost, ignoring the last sentence. Your heart thud against your chest, louder than it had done before when he questioned his presence— or lack thereof— in your vacation post. You peered around the area, only to find the waves crashing close to your beach beds’ location, and pearl-ish white sand spread for miles on end— just the two of you.

You felt him nod again, his chin brushing against your shoulder. Though he confirmed your suspicions of his true intentions, Jude’s hand didn’t undo the strap that held together the skimpy bikini. Instead, his fingers trailed the hem of the swimsuit, barely touching the warm skin. “Can I?”

The tone of his voice was low, the manner only brought goosebumps down your spine. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being eager, or at least the stupor of the hot day didn’t allow you to nod fast enough for you to look desperate. “You don’t know how happy I am to get you like this…” His hand sneaked under the piece at a painfully slow pace. Even though you knew what was going to happen, your breath got stuck in your throat.

“You always get me like this whenever you please.” It could be a complaint coming from anyone else, but it was just the reality of the situation. The relationship between you and Jude was… unclear. Feelings had been owned up to, but a title hadn’t been discussed. In fact, this was the first trip you tagged along; he asked you personally to do so. But you still decided against reading too much into it.

“You were saying, love?” Jude chuckled with malice, smirking at the way your skin prickled up at his touch applied to the bundle of nerves between your legs— which also spread involuntarily to give him better access. The way your words morphed with the moans and delirious sighs brought only further satisfaction to the British national.

“Don’t get all sassy with me.” You complained through a breathy laugh, eyes falling shut. His other hand trailed upwards your torso, to rest against your breasts and get straight into the task of cupping the left one first. The circles to your clit were steady, too steady for your liking. But still good enough to enjoy, and your moans let him know he was doing a stellar job. As per usual.

“What do you want, amor?” You managed to ask. Jude could’ve internally cursed, you knew him too well. A little too well for his liking. Instead of providing an answer, he pressed harder against your clit, the pressure catching you off guard, doubling down the attitude too.

“You,” Jude replied after what seemed years after he couldn’t take any more of your squirming. “Just you, all for me.” You could feel his stubble brushing against your shoulder before his lips pressed onto the length of your neck. It was all too much for you; the heat, the bright sun, the dryness settling in your tongue, his hands touching your body, his hard, clothed cock pressing against your backside, and the coil tightening in your lower stomach.

But he stopped.

Almost bewildered, you gasped, at the same time he undid the bunny ears that kept your swimsuit together. A smile crept onto your face as you turned to face him, thighs on either side of his hips. “You’re looking at me like that again.” You noted humbly, undoing the string of your bra. He couldn’t even formulate a response at the sight of your bare body, eyes scanning every inch, adoring the fresh tan lines.

“How could I not? You’re perfect.” Jude breathed out, leaning forward to catch his lips in yours. It was slow, but oozing with need and passion. You felt a pressure built up in your stomach, sparks, but you hesitated if he ever felt those around you.

“My perfect girl.” He breathed against your lips, hands holding onto your hips as he watched you undo the string that held his swimsuit tighter to his waist. He helped you pull the item down, barely resting at his upper thighs.

He leaned forward once again to catch your lips on his, letting out a tiny groan as you leaned further, just to tease him. “Kiss me,” Jude whined, stomach tightening at the firm grip around his shaft.

“Tranquilo, mi rey.” You cooed, working him up by rubbing his swollen tip on the warm and wet hole before finally sinking down his length. A pair of harmonious groans left both of your lips once you sat in his lap again, hips circling to get accustomed to the stretch.

“I can’t calm down when I’m obsessed with you.” Jude breathed out, large hands helping you steady the pace of your hips. He watched hypnotized by the way his cock disappeared in and out of your warm walls. His eyes were set, as though he wanted to train them to imprint the image in the back of his mind.

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. “Eyes up here, big boy.” The friendly banter defined your relationship; you often wondered if putting a label on things would make that disappear. But it was all just a wall to hide behind the adoration you felt for him, using it to dodge every compliment, in fear that none of his words were sincere. You could tell he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest when meeting your eyes, and the look you couldn’t pinpoint for the whole afternoon reappeared as he tangled his fingers in your hair and drew you right in for a kiss.

A kiss fierce enough to make you weak in the knees.

It was the perfect opportunity for Jude to accommodate his stance to start thrusting upwards, the sweetest noise he managed to squeeze out from the back of your throat was worth the tension in his core. Instantly, your back arched to give him the perfect angle. “I want you like this all the time…” He moaned into your mouth, hands on your hips to pin you down.

“Jude…” You mewled, the sound of skin coming into contact filling the empty air, harmonizing with the waves crashing near the beach spot you both occupied. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, and Jude wasn’t foreign to the squeezing that built-up with every frantic thrust.

“C’mere doll, you’re doing so good f’me. Cum all over my cock, c’mon.” His voice was soft, the encouragement overlapping with his own groans of pleasure. He drew you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. Jude resisted the usual drawn-out teasing and mocking, now finding satisfaction in babying you as he slammed deep into you.

The string of incoherent babbles left your mouth shortly after his praises reached your ears. Jude closed his eyes to both contain himself from releasing at the way your pulsating walls were milking him so deliciously, but to also cherish the way your moans turned up the octave, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his bicep. Yet again, the heat you’ve been withstanding for the entirety of that morning hazed you, making a fantastic team with the warmth of Jude’s strong arms and the faded smell of his cologne mixed in with the salty air.

But all it took to push you right off the edge was a kiss. A single kiss pressed to your shoulder.

Your release consisted of a cocktail of your orgasm and a wave of realization crashing over you. You were head over heels with the man who was currently squishing your face against his buff chest, strong arms wrapped around your waist as he held you down. Groans and chants of your name replaced your meek moans and sighs, his cum filling you up. You allowed him the luxury of doing so every once in a while, and the dream-like stupor that enveloped your mind currently created the desire for him to do so.

The sounds of waves crashing filled the air once more, overshadowing the heavy breathing you shared. You stayed put, even cuddling closer to him as soon as the tremor left your legs. Time seemed to slow down, and you wondered how difficult the task of pulling away from him would soon be.

“Can I post you?”

Jude broke the silence, he’d been busy brushing your hair strands back into place upon the comfortable silence you’d set on. There was an arm still wrapped along the width of your waist. You pulled back to look him in the eyes, expecting to see playfulness in them, but finding a completely serious stare in return. “Since a certain someone won’t post me…”

“Oh, stop it!” You laughed, cheeks flushed at the idea. “If you think it's that great on an idea…” You puckered your lips while replicating his tone, cupping his face and planting a peck on his lips.

Jude smirked, licking his lips to chase the taste of you. But his eyes were soft, full of adoration. That look. It would blossom by just admiring your presence, or during one of his favorite activities– making you happy. “All I have are great ideas. Amazing, even.” He stole a peck off from you. You giggled, and a smile subconsciously peaked from behind his lips.

His heart flipped in his chest for the hundredth time that trip.

Jude, lost for words, just shook his head and reached for his phone. He started to wonder how a person could compete so easily with the grandiose, warmth and shine of the sun above.

But one peek down at you, snuggled up against him, answered all his questions.

judebellingham summer with you 🤍

A/N: used @ keilanilizbeth on instagram as the fc

and that pic on the left has me wishing i could match sambas with jude 😞😞

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #football smut #football fic #𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !

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evie-sturns · 1 day

Text

Phone call - Matt Sturniolo

summary: in the middle of you and your boyfriend matt's hookup, you receive a call. instead of declining it matt makes you pick up the phone, little did you know it would be a lot harder to string together sentences than you thought.

contains: smut, teasing, dumbification, overstimulation, fluff.

----------------------------------------------------------

♫- you're buried in the pillow yeah you're so loud-♫

i stay seated on matts lap as i mindlessly scroll through instagram, matt wraps his tattooed arms around my chest.

"i like your shirt." matt whispers into my hair, "thank you! its new, do you like the color- i thought you'd like the baby pink" i yap,

matt laughs lightly, "i love the color." he smiles,

i readjust myself on matts lap, "dont- dont do that." matt groans out, my eyebrows knit together,

"what?" i say, shifting again on his lap experimentally

matt grips both my hips, "i said don't." matt demands, "why!" i whine with a slight attitude.

matt stands up, picking me up by my ass and carrying me down the hallway. he presses my thigh against his crotch, a hard poke against my leg makes my eyes shoot open

my cheeks flush red,

"thats why." he mutters, swinging open the door and throwing me down onto the matress

i let out a small squeal as i hit the bed, matts already tugging down his sweatpants before i can process whats going on.

"matt-" i start, he cuts me off

"take off your shorts"

i nod, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip as i lift my hips off of matt's silk sheets, i shimmy my shorts down my legs.

matts erection springs out, tapping his stomach lightly before he overs over me. his hair flops on his forehead slightly as he grabs my white lace panties

he pulls them to the side roughly, exposing my leaking entrance.

"soaked already?" matt tuts, i feel myself grow red with embarrasment.

matt cups my face and holds my hand with his other hand before lining himself up with me.

"you ready?" matt asks softly, "take it slow- its been a while." i whisper, squeezing matts hand.

matt gives me the tip, the stretch makes me wince. "pretty girl." matt coos,

he doesn't waste time to push further into me, "slow down matt!" i moan lightly, his tip brushes my cervix.

i arch my back off the bed, squeezing matt's ringed hand tighter.

"you can take it, you're taking me so well." matt repeats, my loud whimpers fill the silent room,

groans fall from matts rosy lips, "matt--" i whine

ring

my head snaps round to see my phone resting on the mattress,

incoming call from nick

i reach a hand over to decline, but matt grabs my wrist

"pick up the phone and talk to him" matt demands

"what- what?" i repeat, my eyebrows twisting.

"pick, it up." matt repeats himself, i hesitate before grabbing the phone and swiping to anwser.

matt stops his thrusts, allowing me to talk to nick .

"nick- hi how are you!" i say with a couple short breaths

suddenly, matt starts to thrust again, he almost pulls out then slams back into me.

"hey girl! no i was wondering- uh.. wait what was it" nick drones out his sentence,

i clasp a hand over my mouth as matt repeatedly slams into me, forcing me to take his whole length at once.

"oh yeah- do you want to come to the movies on sunday with madi, you can bring matt if you want" nick speaks, his voice blaring out the speakers.

matts thrusts grow faster, never slowing their intensity though, "i'm- i'll be able- fuck-, i can pro-probably- matt!" i finish my sentence with a loud yelp

"hey! you okay?" nicks voice is laced with concern.

matt nods at me, taking a hand off my hip and brushing my clit with his finger as his thrusts grow sloppy.

"i'm- i'm fine." i manage to string together the sentence

matt smiles cockily down at me, enjoying every second of this.

"oh god-" i mutter under my breath.

"anyways... so can you come, what time works for you?" nick asks with confusion in his tone.

"i can- probably." i slur out as i feel my orgasm grow closer

"you can come or not? whats wrong with you are you drunk?" nick scoffs through the phone,

"nick- bad.. bad time" i whimper out,

suddenly my orgasm crashes over me, i grab a pillow and smother my face with it, handing matt the phone as i finish with a muffled scream of his name

matt hangs up the phone for me now that ive finished, he pulls out of me and finishes

white streaks paint my panties which have been tugged to the side the whole time,

those were my favourite pair, but i cant think hard enough to care right now.

"fuck-" matt breathes out, flopping down next to me on the mattress and pulling me onto him.

"are you okay sweetheart, was that too mean?" matt laughs slightly

"i- i dont know?" i squeeze out with a giggle.

"oh god, lets get you cleaned up gorgeous girl." matt smiles softly

--------

15 minutes later

i've been laying in bed in my soft pyjamas with matt for about 10 minutes now, us both becoming exhausted and ready for bed

abruptly my phone lights up,

"nick texted me.." i whisper to matt with a nervous grin,

i open messages and read out the message

"he said.. 'hey, just wondering what the fuck was going on are you okay? lmk if you can make sunday and tell me what was going on with you.'"

matt bursts out laughing, i slap him playfully, "matt! thats your fault what do i say!" i scoff

"just say you can make it for sunday, you don't need to answer the other question." matt rubs his eyes.

"i can't believe youu matt." i laugh, rolling over and cuddling close to his side

the warmth of matt's arms wrap around me, holding me tight and pressing a small kiss to my forehead.

"you're cute when you can't string a sentence together." matt whispers teasingly

"you're stupid" i giggle back.

----------------------------------------------

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover r @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fluff #Spotify #matt sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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saeist · 1 year

Text

“teach me”

“no”

“why not?!”

“because i don’t want to”

sae stares blanky at your frustrated face (he thinks it’s cute but he’d rather be buried alive than to admit it out loud) through his phone screen. you were asking him to teach you some spanish just for funsies but sae being sae, he doesn’t want to cooperate

“then, let me at least hear you speak some sentences, please?” you try to bargain, pulling the puppy eyes on him. you’ve watched multiple clips of his interviews in the past where he spoke a little bit of spanish and you wanted to hear it when he’s talking to you.

to your surprise (not) sae just rolls his eyes as his response, earning a little huff from you

“you know what sae, nevermind” you say in defeat. putting your hands up in front of the camera to show that you’ve surrendered into trying to make sae say something in spanish. your attention is no longer at the stoic boy, but on twitter, tiktok, instagram, you name it, your attention was probably there. if he’s not gonna cooperate then fine. two can play this game

sae noticed that you suddenly went quiet on him. he calls out your name but you don’t budge. that only meant one thing. you were ignoring him.

you hear sae sigh at the other end. before you can ask him what his problem was, he clears his throat,

“te amo cada día más y te amare pase lo que pase”

you swear you felt like you just entered the gates of heaven with the way the words smoothly rolls out of his tongue like honey.

“happy now?” you can hear the bluntness in his voice. “and open your camera, tch” he clicks his tongue in annoyance. you hurriedly opened your camera once again to see sae’s face once again but with a faint blush on his cheeks. you instantly took a screenshot which sent a notification on sae’s end causing the latter to raise his brows in confusion.

“what’s with the big smile on your face?” sae asks, adjusting his pillow behind him, watching you smile like an idiot. (his idiot)

“because you spoke in spanish” you gush, smiling uncontrollably at your boyfriend. sae snickers before gazing at you lovingly.

“did you even understand what i just said?”

“nope, but i know it was probably something romantic” you wiggle your eyebrows at sae who only smiles at your reaction. you can see his whisker dimples poking through, a tell tale sign that he was genuinely smiling. a rare sight to see.

“so, are you gonna tell me what you just said?”

“no”

“sae!”

#blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #bllk scenarios #blue lock scenarios #sae imagines #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi imagines #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #probably my new fav sae fic i made #might as well change my url to saeitoshi with the amount of fics i have for him

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zeltqz · 1 month

Text

call me or not, it's up to you.

☰ — synopsis : you come back home after a night out and see you accidentally posted your private stories public, and received a drunk lengthy voicemail from your ex, ran.

☰ — pairing : haitani ran x fem!reader ☰ — length : 2.4k words ☰ — contents : nsfw and 18+ contents, mentions of violence (sanzu being sanzu), slight phone sex; they don't directly communicate, ran being mildly toxic and messing with your emotions, teeny itsy bitsy drops of gaslighting ☰ — notes : i literally suck at writing toxic characters so im SORRY if this is literal ass, (im trying my hardestttt) i just had a dream about this and had to execute it as best as i could lol

It was a regular Thursday night when you stumbled into your date’s house, struggling to walk with half a heel working.

“Let’s get you out of these.” He knelt before you and helped you unbuckle your heels and you sighed in relief when he slipped them both off.

“Remind me to never wear heels again,” you giggled, clutching onto him. He leaned down and kissed you. You hummed, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol earlier and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing him back. “I had fun tonight.”

He cupped both your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses, each of them making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “Me too.” There was a final lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s get you ready for bed, alright?” He traced your cheekbones with his finger, and you smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his hand.

“Okay.” He helped you up the stairs and you collapsed onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you laid there, clutching at his soft sheets.

“I’m gonna shower first, alright babe?” He said in the process of removing his shirt. “Wanna join me?”

You shook your head, eyes threatening to close shut as you nuzzled his pillow. “I’m alright. You go first.”

He bit his lip, admiring you splayed out on the sheets for a moment, his mind racing with all the things he could do you tonight if you’d join him in the shower. But of course his fantasies only stay in his head since you’ve been rejecting every single one of his advances for the last three months. It’s always the same excuses : you’re not in the mood, or you’re too tired.

He sighed. “You sure babe?”

You’re half asleep at this point, just barely conscious as you murmur, “‘m sure.” His tongue poked his cheek and he nodded, saying nothing else and heading inside the bathroom.

You vaguely hear the shower turn on and about to enter a deep sleep when your phone buzzes.

@/shibayuzuha : oh my god who is this man u’re with on ur story? He is CUTE!!

@/hina_tachibana : was this supposed to be posted on your main? 😢

“What story?” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. You click through your instagram story and rewatch the story you posted a few hours earlier when you were at the club. They were all videos of you and Masato dancing together, kissing, taking shots. Honestly you were buzzed the entire night and you thought you posted them on your private account, much less your close friends. “Oh fuck.”

You went to delete all the stories but the damage was already done, over 300 people already saw it. Oh well. That’s tomorrow’s problem.

You lay back down, eyelids blinking slowly as you fight back sleep and check your missed phone calls you accidentally ignored. That’s when you see it. A voicemail from Haitani Ran. Any ounce of sleep in your body vanished the moment you sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes checking if you saw correctly.

It was over five minutes long and part of you wanted to delete it, but at this moment, you couldn’t help but be curious. You pressed play and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hey. It’s me. Hope I’m not blocked or whatever, I know how petty you can get.” He chuckled to himself and the deep rumble of it took you back to all those months ago when you’d be laying beside him, head on his chest and just listen to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke on the phone.

There was a deep inhale and the familiar crackle of him smoking that always used to relax you. “Saw your story by the way. Is that your new boy toy? Two of you look good together.” He exhaled and his voice was kinda slurred. “Kinda glad you moved on though. Thought you’d never get over me to be honest.”

“Oh fuck off,” you mumbled. He was still as full of himself as he was when you both ended things almost a year ago. If this was a regular phone call you would’ve hung up or told him he’s not that special, but you looked down and still saw another six minutes left. What the fuck else could he possibly have to say to you?

He chuckled again, and it was so obvious he was drunk now, which surprised you as he was a heavy weight and in your three years of dating you saw him get drunk only twice.

“You looked so fucking sexy in that dress, baby.” His groan had you squeezing your thighs together. “I can tell by the way he was holding you in those fucking videos he can’t handle you the way I can. He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he? Bet he’s real gentle and sweet with you not knowing you like it deep, and rough. Fuck, man.” He exhaled, rubbing his palm on his face. “Wanna know what I’d do if I was there with you baby?”

“...yes,” you whispered weakly to yourself. It was pointless; he couldn’t hear you and yet you were responding like he could. Blame it on the alcohol but there was nothing you wanted more than Ran right now.

“Bet you do. I’ll humour you though. I’ll take you to the dance floor and run my hands all over that body of yours, force that pretty head of yours back so I can mark all over your neck. Get you so hot and bothered till you’re begging me to fuck you. That happened one time didn’t it? Remember that one night in the club? I had my hands all over you and you dared me to flip your skirt up and fuck you right there. Man, you were such a tease, and a fucking sadist too. Remember when you said you wanted to watch some schmuck clean up my cum from the floor?”

You giggled and bit your lip, teasing your hands down your stomach. You remembered that night perfectly. Ran changed you when you were dating. You don’t even recognise yourself right now because everything just felt right when you were with him. Those years with him were the best of your life, you were young and figuring shit out. You’re still young and figuring shit out, but without him you’re taking a little longer to come to the conclusion of certain things.

Ran had his ups and downs. He was far from the perfect boyfriend, and he knew that. That’s why he was so surprised when you stayed for all those years despite his flaws. He was emotionally unavailable and never spoke about anything concerning him. He was sometimes rude and blunt when pissed off, and the arguments you both would get into would end up in the two of you ignoring each other for weeks. At first you’d be the one to break the silence and show up to his house and just hug him. He’d always smell like cigarettes and it should’ve disgusted you yet you couldn’t help but feel comfort. The smell was strong and yet it never bothered you when you smelt it on him. You’d apologise, crying in his arms as he embraced you back, rubbing up and down your back as you vented it all out in his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. If he had people over he’d tell them to get the fuck out, hiding your face in his chest until the door closed.

That was the usual routine until the arguments got worst and your pride grew stronger and you’d refuse to talk to him until he broke it first. He didn’t believe you at first but after a month of no contact he finally broke it first. Since then, he was always the one apologising first, showing up to your house in the middle of the night at random hours to tell you he’s sorry and didn’t mean what he’d said.

The ups were better than the downs in the relationship. He’d teach you things, he always made you feel good, and simply being next to him was enough to make your entire week, even if it's for a few hours. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, like the most special girl to exist, and he helped boost your confidence by buying you nice things like clothes, accessories, lingerie, and tell you to look at yourself in the mirror and watch as he worships your body, taking his time to kiss his way down your stomach and thighs, and once he got to your pussy he swore he could eat you out for hours, just until your thighs were shaking around him.

The memory of his tongue between your legs had your back arching off the bed clutching the phone tighter to your ear as you squeezed a hand between your legs, playing with yourself as he talked you through it over the phone.

“Bet you’re touching yourself right now,” he exhaled shakily. “If you’re not, you better start. Want you to remember how well I fucked you every time. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Mmhmm.” Thankfully Masato takes decades in the shower so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in or hearing. Not like you would’ve cared honestly. He’s not Ran, and he won’t ever be.

“Miss you being my good girl. Fuck. He doesn’t deserve to have his hands all over you. Should send Sanzu over and fuck, get him to cut all his fucking fingers off for touching you like that. Man, I bet that idiot doesn’t know that I fucked you in that same dress you know? That’s what got me so damn bothered right now. Wearing the shit I bought you to go fuck around?”

“‘M sorry,” you whimper, parting your folds and slipping as many fingers as you could fit inside without hurting yourself. No matter whatever you shove inside there, it never feels as good as Ran’s fingers, or tongue, or cock. “Need you so bad Ran.”

“Man, wanna hear how you sound right now. Bet you sound so sweet, like usual. Could you do something for me?” You nodded and stopped your fingers movements, listening to his next words.

“Call me again. I miss you so much it’s crazy. Got so much to talk to you about. It’s been how long? Couple months since I last heard from you. And I know you don’t hate me. You never could. That’s something I love about you. Always there for me when I need you. We both took each other for granted, you know? Deny it all you want but you did. And that’s okay. But I wanted to let you know if you ever come back into my life, I’m not letting you go. For real, not making that mistake again. I dunno why I called you tonight honestly, just drank a lot and now I fucking miss you. Call me or not, it’s up to you.”

Then he said the words that made your heart nearly stop and freeze over in your chest. “I love you.”

Before you could even say it back the voicemail ended, leaving you conflicted.

#—tr </3 #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #haitani ran smut #ran smut #ran haitani smut

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nervoussagittarius · 28 days

Text

hey, let’s not be alone tonight

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt introduces his girlfriend to the world through a video on his personal channel, request

warnings: extreme fluff, maybe some swearing who knows lol

matt sat in the driver seat of his car looking down at his lap. his face displayed a slightly distraught look as he glanced up into the camera.

“hi guys welcome backs to my personal channel…god i hate filming by myself.” he said with a sigh.

his gloomy look soon brightened into a smile as he stated “luckily i’m alone tonight” and turned the camera hoping both of you were in frame. you simultaneously laughed at his little bit before realizing that the camera was in fact very much crooked.

“hey matt,” you said pointing to the lens.

“oh fuck, let me fix it. hang on guys” he said holding a hand up to the camera in a “wait” motion .

matt quickly got out of the car making his way around to the front. he conducted you on which way to move the camera so both of you were evenly in the frame.

you tried to concentrate at the task at hand, but everytime you looked at matt for direction he made a funny face back at you, making you laugh.

“is that good? i can’t tell” you said calling to matt. he sent you a thumbs up in response, and made his way back to his seat.

matt and you were in sync as you looked at each other, then to the camera, and then back to each other.

“you ready?” he questioned reaching down to hold your hand over the center console.

“absolutely” you replied.

“guys, you were all wrong…. i’m coming clean and telling you that i’m still as single as i’ve ever been” matt said with a very serious look on his face.

“what?” you exclaimed with a slight giggle, looking at matt. he tried not to break character, but didn’t last very long as you poked his cheek getting him to smile.

“i’m just kidding,” he said “this is my girlfriend y/n. all of you have been speculating so we thought it was time to announce it.”

”you can talk you know” he chuckled softly squeezing your hand.

“i know, i just didn’t want to cut you off” you whispered, looking into his blue eyes as they softened at your statement.

“hi guys, i’m y/n” you finally repeat waving at the camera.

matt couldn’t take his eyes off of you. you looked so perfect sitting under the lights of his car. he didn’t want to pressure you into having to succumb to parts of his lifestyle, but your willingness to participate in a video with him made him love you even more.

matt was very private with his personal business. he didn’t like people speculating or starting rumors. for the longest time he didn’t want to expose you to the hate that came from his job, but he wanted nothing more then to be able to show you off to the world. you were everything to him and he wanted to celebrate that.

“matt..” you said softly, grabbing his attention. “do you want to tell them what we’re doing today?”

“oh yeah, so i was gonna make an instagram story asking you guys to ask us questions, but i couldn’t figure out how to do it, and then i realized it would spoil the suprise. so nick and chris wrote us a couple questions that they figured you’d want us to answer.”

you released your hand from matt’s with a giggle at his statement, picking up your drink. this caught his attention as he quickly grabbed your drink from you, putting it in your other hand, and grasped the left one back in his.

this made you give him a “really?” look but he just responded with a shrug and a brief kiss to your cheek.

“alrighty” he said dragging out the y. “we’re gonna start out simple and take turns answering questions. y/n is going to go first with the question ‘how did we meet?’”

you laughed, “so matt and i actually have different views on how me met, but nick cleared it up for us because he has a better memory of the situation.” matt jokingly rolled his eyes and he looked at you intently.

“i know that we originally met at a vintage thrift store when i had complimented nick on his shirt. i was wearing this vintage leather jacket and he loved it, so he wanted to show matt and chris. that’s actually when we met, but matt claims he wasn’t there for that, so to him we met at a small gathering one of our mutual friends had for their birthday.”

“i promise i was not there when you first met nick and chris”

“how did they get to that vintage store then matt? you drive them everywhere.” you broke out in laughter at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“okay you may have a point, but i’m still sticking to my original story.” he said passing you the phone to ask the next question.

“okay baby, whatever you say.” you patted his cheek as he once again rolled his eyes at you lovingly.

“how long have we been together?” you asked.

he pretended to think for a second before saying “seven months. literally the best days of my fucking life.”

“really?” you said looking up at him with a small smile on your face.

“of course. i love being with you”

you guys stared at eachother for a few seconds before you cleared your throat looking away with a slight blush on your face.

“okay, next question.” you got out quickly, not being able to make eye contact with matt.

you and matt have been together for a decent amount of time, yet he still manages to suprise you and make you nervous daily. he thinks it’s cute, but you find it a little frustrating. he loves seeing how he can still make you blush just by looking at you. it boosts his ego and tells him he’s doing something right.

“how do you manage a healthy relationship? i feel like nick and chris are asking this questions for themselves because neither of them can stay in a relationship” matt laughed.

“i think it’s all about how you communicate and developing a flow that will bind both of your lives without disrupting the previous routine.” you said through giggles.

“it’s definitely important to make time for each other, but you also have to make time for yourself. especially with matt’s job being very time consuming. we’ve done a lot of trial and error to figure out what’s best for us and our relationship. matt and i also have a rule that we can’t go to sleep mad at each other so it kinda forces us to figure our shit out.”

“i agree.” matt says looking at the camera giving them a slight head tilt. he leaned his head back on his seat turning to look at you.

“okay last question for the night. would we ever start a channel together?”

“do you want to answer this together?” matt asks. you nod.

“on three” you reply.

three counts are made before you both answer. “fuck no” “absolutely not”

the serious faces you’re both making are soon broken as you fall into eachother laughing. a few seconds pass before matt lifts his head first placing a kiss to your hair.

“listen, we’re not saying that y/n will never appear in a video again, but neither of us want the hassle or the constant publication of our relationship on the internet”

“yeah, we’re definitely not one of those couples.” you say with a smile, still leaning your head on matt’s shoulder.

matt finally released your hand, grabbing the camera off the dash. you took this time to take a sip of your drink as matt placed the focus on you.

“any last words for the viewers?”

“we love you all and i hope you’re prepared for matt’s constant talk about me, because nick and chris complain about it all the time.”

you grabbed the camera pointing it at matt.

“and what are your last words mr. matthew sturniolo?”

he looked over the camera to you and then back to the lens.

“let’s kiss the camera, babe” he said.

you both leaned forward to place a short peck on the camera lens. pulling back, you both laughed at the fog and matt wiped the lens clean as he ended the video.

“do you think they’ll like it?” you asked softly.

“i think they’ll love it because you’re perfect, and funny, and beautiful, and i love you.” matt rambled.

“i love you too, matt,” you smiled.

you took his hand, once again, as he started the short drive back to his house.

comments:

i’ve never seen two people more perfect for eachother

the fact that matt wouldn’t let go of her hand the entire time did something to me

i don’t blame y/n. i too would get nervous if i was in the presence of matt sturniolo

nick and chris being the biggest supporters of their relationship and making them questions is so cute.

i can’t wait to see all of the posts matt makes about y/n now

crying at how adorable they are

an: i’m in love with this one and them. i hope y’all enjoyed it as well🤍🤍

#matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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