#they continue to make me So fucking emotional <3
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biting is a love language biting is a love language Biting Is A Love Language-
#gee... how come barnaby gets to bite His best friend but i cant bite MY besties... so unfair...#obsessed with the mental image of wally latching on like a bulldog#and just. Not Letting Go.#he is Reciprocating. he is Expressing His Affection Barnaby Style. what do you mean hes Holding On Too Tight#idk i think id compliment barn's new earring. its a handsome little thing#the sillies....#they continue to make me So fucking emotional <3#scribble salad#welcome home#welcome home puppet show#name a better pair of best friends you caaaaaanttttttttt you simply Cannot!!!!#wailing sobbing eating glass etc
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[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]
saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi riptide#gillion tidestrider#GONNA START FORMATTING MY COMICS BETTER. W THE PROPER 'PREV' 'NEXT' LINKS#REALLY DIDNT EXPECT TO CONTINUE THIS SERIES BUT AAAUUUHH MY BRRAAAIN MY BRAIN IS SO IDEASSS. I HAVE 3 OTHER PAGES SKETCHED OUT#NO PROMISES ILL FINISH EM ANY TIME SOON OR EVER. MY WHIMS ARE THEIR OWN BEAST AND I ONLY DRAW ON MY WHIMS#THAT BEING SAID IF U COMMISSIONED ME ILL GEEETT TO YOUUU IM SORRYYYY. ART IS AN EMOTIONAL RELEASE FOR ME N BABY I HAVE EMOTIONS.#ESPECIALLY ABOUT GILLION TIDESTRIDER CHAMPION OF THE UNDERSEA HERO OF THE DEEP.for the desc here i put smth that i typed up in the tags of#another thing i made. i gotta make a proper Baby Gillion tag or smth. eventually.. eventually...I LOVE DRAWIN THIS LIL BABY GUY..#i also LOVE depicting the teachers as just being so fuckin mean. ofc theres variation in that. just like in all things.like the teacher her#idk if itll be mentioned but the octo lady is named Ms Octburn.an octopus pun based off the name of an actual councilor i had#when i was in elementary school i got bullied alot but teachers never did anything. i hated adults and didnt trust them.#but this councilor o mine was so genuinely sweet. i remember spending alot of time w her. she doesnt work there anymore.#but that one school adult that actually earns ur trust and is there for you when they can be.its SO important for a child i think#i hope she knows how much she helped me.youll see in the next page that ms octburn isnt perfect either.but she tries. they all try.somehow.#ALL these comics are gonna be inspired by somesorta experience o mine in the school system. school is so fucked up u ever thing abt that#AND GILLIOOOOONNN IN THE MOST FUCKED UP LITTLE SCHOOL OF ALL. MAINTAINED BY A CULT. CENTERED AROUND HIM. OUR CHOSEN ONE#I IMAGINE ALOT BANKS ON HIS SUCCESS. THIS IS THE WORLD. THE WHOLE WORLD. THE PROPHECY IS GOING TO COME TRUE N UR TELLIN ME#THAT ITS THIS LITTLE IDIOT THATS GONNA BE SAVING US? WHAT IF HE FAILS. IF HE CANT GET THIS RIGHT THEN HE WILL FAIL AND WE WILL DIE#WE NEED TO TRAIN HIM. WE NEED HIM TO LEARN. AND TO SUCCEED. OR ELSE WE'RE DEAD. WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE STRESSFUL#in other news i hope ppl actually giggle when they read these. they ARE intended to be comical. dark humor or whatever. like its also sad#this is intended to be a sad comic series. but a funny one too. does that make sense? god i hope so.saw some1 say they had flashbacks-#-reading this. like YES!! THE INTENDED EFFECT!! YOU GET ME!! i love seeing ppl get upset on this lil baby boys behalf. i LOVE seeing ppl-#-wail n weep n cry in the comments. i LOOOVE seeing ppl RELATE to baby gillion. and i love letting u all know that this wont be a happycomi#gillion gets his happiness arc in the actual show. this series is one of unfortunate events. teehehehe. do u guys remember that show#i keep listening to the lil songs from A Series of Unfortunate Events for inspiration. GOOD STUFF!!#anyway uuhh uhh thats all i got in my brain. for now. feed me ur comments give me ur input i NNEEEEEDD THHEEEMMMM
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i love ryomina
no but seriously. even when i’m thinking about other things that captivate my interest, i find myself coming back to them and feeling like i fell down three whole flights of staircases every time i do. they are one of my favorite pairs in media and are very special to me.
it’s the way that ryoji and minato’s lives are inevitably intertwined with each other due to the circumstances 10 years ago on the moonlight bridge. without no minato, there is no ryoji. minato as he is today is because of ryoji. they have irreparably affected each other’s lives that you cannot discuss one without bringing up the other one.
ryoji mochizuki, who is death, pharos, thanatos, nyx avatar, the man of many names and identities, is the perfect summation of p3′s messages and themes.
minato arisato, the wildcard and protagonist, who has boundless kindness in his actions despite the unfortunate cards handed to him.
the two of them complement each other and tell a beautiful story from start to finish.
minato’s personas capture this perfectly. he awakens to orpheus, who’s flames burns bright, is snuffed out by thanatos during the encounter against the arcana magician. a visual precursor of the idea that ryoji stole from the life that minato could have had.
it’s the way that over the course of the game as minato interacts with pharos, talking throughout the dark hour, forging a bond that cannot be broken, that allows ryoji to exist. minato humanizes death.
november. the bells toll, calling the appriser. and yet, it’s peaceful... quiet, and full of life. ryoji, who breaks free from death’s chains, refusing his role, is given the chance to live for a month. to make the most of the humanity that minato has given him over those ten years. and what a life he lived. ryoji’s life is a reflection of what minato’s life could have been like in another universe.
it is the way the two of them are reflections of each other. ryoji with his hair down is just like minato. they are both stubbornly committed to choosing to be kind, to love life, yet are chained down by the cards the narrative dealt them with. they finish each other’s sentences, knowing each other intimately in a way no one else does.
how is that, a boy who lived for only one month, profoundly changes the course of the narrative? he is simultaneously relevant and irrelevant. blink, and you miss it, the beautiful life that he led.
ryoji is horrified at the revelations of being the appriser. he who so desperately wished to forget that his existence was meant to bring the end to all life, was unable to escape the inevitability of death. in a non-human way, of course. he becomes remorseful. a shadow of his brief time as a human who was enamored by the small beautiful things that life had to offer.
he is swallowed by grief. grief knowing that his very existence will take away not only minato’s life, but everyone else’s. the very thing that ryoji loved- life, fundamentally went against the role he was born for- to be the harbinger of death. and unable to grapple with this sadness he believes that the best thing for minato to do is to kill him, so that SEES can live in bliss not knowing about their inevitable end.
SEES is left rattled, calling into question what the meaning of life is and what they do when faced against the inevitability of death.
and!!! minato chooses!! for ryoji to live!! even in spite of what ryoji is MEANT to embody, minato still stubbornly chooses to defy death itself! and if that’s not cool i don’t know what is!! minato wants everyone to have the chance to live!!
so he climbs. he ascends tartarus, to meet ryoji, again, who is now the nyx avatar. and i just think there’s something so so beautiful about being able to use messiah, minato’s ultimate persona, against nyx avatar.
messiah, being the fusion of orpheus and thanatos is peak ryomina to me. because ryoji and minato have established an unbreakable bond from having been entwined for 10 years, minato still has a piece of death with him, and by proxy!! ryoji is able to defy and rebel against nyx trying to bring the fall! and i think that’s fucking cool shit if you ask me!
even when all of the arcanas have been gone through, it’s still not enough to stop the fall. and yet. minato knows. in the way that ryoji was sealed in minato 10 years ago by aigis... minato becomes the great seal so that everyone can live. it comes full circle.
march rolls around. he fulfills his promise to SEES on graduation day. minato dies from exhaustion. but goddamn does his sacrifice make me weep- he’s had such, such a tiring journey. he’s been through so many things because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. but at the end of it all, he’s reunited with ryoji in death.
and i think this is why ryomina continues to evoke so much emotions for me, to this day. the relationship that they have embodies so much of persona 3′s messages and themes that it makes me feel like a microwave with nothing running in it.
p3′s message is very hopeful, for me. my favorite takeaway from it is that even if death is inevitable, appreciating the life that we were given and choosing to live as best as we can with kindness (even if we can’t feasibly do everything), is just? really nice? and you see this manifest in both ryoji and minato’s personalities and what they do for the other characters.
ryomina just feels so distinct to me, the flavor that their relationship ties back to my favorite takeaways from this game and im just!! god!! i love you minato arisato! i love you ryoji mochizuki! im so glad that i could meet them! i’m happy that they changed my life! they made me want to appreciate the connections in life even if they were fleeting! they made me!! want to pay attention to the good moments in life and cherish them!
i love ryomina so much!!! i’m so glad that these two could bring so much joy into my life! and i hope that others can have this joy too! 💛💙
#lizzy speaks#persona 3#ryomina#ryoji mochizuki#minato arisato#meta#long post#(literally)#HI SO UM YESTERDAY I COULDN'T FUCKING SLEEP so to cope i was like 'i will talk out loud about anything and everything'#and somehow that turned into me talking about ryomina out loud and something about verbalizing my thoughts made me feel crazy about these-#two again. i mean for the record i continue to love them always very dearly but like my p3 braincells sometimes go into hibernation bc-#ive been on a really huge splatoon kick. but anyway my voice was like cracking at 3am because i was tearing up#i was like 'THE!! IM! SO NORMAL ABT WHAT ORPHEUS AND THANATOS AND MESSIAH SYMBOLIZE' etc etc etc#so i kinda just went to sleep like 'ok well you GOTTA type it out. everyone needs to know about this.'#and um i didnt mean to make 1069 words! sorry! not really! but i love them!!! even if im very quiet these days!#ohhh how lucky i am to have had the chance to experience ryomina they are such a gem. they make me so goddamn emotional#they really mean a lot to me because of well. (gestures at the entire post) but also they came at a really good point of my life and FUCK!!#im so so grateful to them!!! i love them!!!! the themes that their relationship and characters convey just !! IM SO NORMAL ABOUT IT!!!#they've affected me so profoundly and deeply and i wish i could make better art to get this across. but its ok. one day i can. one day#they make me so fucking talkative like actually but um. i had a lot of fun writing this! i dont think ive had like. a proper appreciation-#post for them that articulates why i like them so much (unless you count the essays i write in my art tags) so it was nice to make this.#admittedly theres a lot abt p3 that im rusty on since its been a goodwhile since ive interacted with the source material#and in a way you could say that like. i need to renew my p3 license LMAOOO but god some parts of p3 still have such a huge death grip on me#and what i mean by that is that the big Fucking Events have such!! clarity!! in my mind!! i recall them and i wilt on the spot!!#oh god i cant fucking shut up. the tags are probably 500 words long. enjoy my ramble. i wish every ryomina enjoyer a Good Life <3#actually no. i hope that EVERYONE on the dash today has something that sparks joy for them the way ryomina does for me.#everyone deserves 2 have something that makes their brain do a little excited dance that makes them blow up and explode. its good for u!#BYE FOR REAL this is why i have to post my thoughts very spread out otherwise yall would have so many WORDS on ur dash pls help i have so#many emotions and i am so tiny i cannot possibly fit all the feelings i have about ryomina and other things inside my tiny little body
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every time i talk w my parents i have to remind myself not to get swayed by their doting affectionate act.
#i mean see#becoming older has made me recognize and appreciate them for a lot of what they did#but to say that i am doing anything except lip service to them rn would be an exaggeration#our relationship has improved but i have made it clear that i never intend to live with them ever again#that the honeymoon period will last 2 days max#they'll cry their crocodile tears#and the emotional abuse will restart like it never stopped#that the physical abuse would have continued if i didn't threaten them by throwing chairs and a knife#like....these past few months have given me such fucking WHIPLASH#it almost makes me forget just how dysfunctional our dynamic has been#how i got away relatively well adjusted because i psychologied myself through clinical and counselling psych classes#how they refuse to take the blame absolutely for my brother's issues surfacing now in his adulthood#ever so often something so viscerally twisted will happen on a call or on the group chat which makes me want to hurt myself#and that serves as a wake up call abt how bad shit used to be#and how glad i am to be away from it all#but every few weeks i will be lulled back into thinking that maybe things weren't so bad#i'm also swayed so much by the people around me rn who hesitate so much to talk about anything that isn't small talk#either that or they're people who really love their parents and enjoy spending time with them#and i'm like....respectfully i cannot relate and neither can the bamboo rod that once broke in two bcs of how hard my parents wielded it <3#and ofc when families come up in conversation everyone acts like it's a normal thing for there to be ups and downs#w so much unsaid and implied about how i'm actually an ungrateful POS who can't appreciate their parents sacrificing so much for me#hehe. no thanks. keep ur judgement to urself
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i don’t think my mum appreciates my bargain hunting
#JUNE IS ACTUALLY COMING TOGETHER IM BITING MY FUCKIGN FIST#like not to deep it but seeing the hours and hours u clocked from ur MINIMUM WAGE waitressing job finally pay off#is actually so emotional like i suffered more than jesus working the holiday season#and I’ll have to work reading week and easter despite exams again#but it’s actually starting to be WORTH IT#like america on its own is the first big thing I’ve ever saved for#but doing newcastle AND london in the DAYS leading up to it? to say sam fender and harry styles in concert?#*see#like that is so spenny I don’t DO shit like this but i AM bc I worked hard and will continue to do so#v proud and excited <3#also if u don’t know the context of these texts#when me boom and hannah went to london together we got a dirt cheap Airbnb by CROYDEN#and the police got called on someone else staying there 😭 we literally locked our door and were trying not to make any noise lmfaoo#and my londoner dad was just like ‘wahey that’s the big smoke for you 💪🏼🍺🏴’ when I told him like ZERO fucks given#rwbt 2.0#<- not rlly but oh well#more like the pres for rwbt 2.0
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i don’t know what else to say except that AI art is no longer simply a source of creativity or a wonder of human creation. it has become actively hostile and destructive toward the very thing it pretends to uplift and celebrate. it is void of any human element, any soul or ounce of emotion or self-expression. continuing to use AI art knowing that it comes from theft and robbing artists of their livelihood is disgusting. they need your support now more than ever. stop giving these thieves your money and admiration.
[Image descriptions courtesy of @cryptid-deity: a series of screenshots from Deb JJ Lee’s twitter, @ jdebbiel.
Image 1 is a tweet that reads, “this... this is fucking sad. I don’t know what to do.” Included with the tweet are two images; one is a screenshot from a private text message conversation, the other is a collage of AI generated art that was sent to Lee in the text conversation.
Image 2 is a screenshot of only the text conversation, which shows multiple messages that were sent to Lee. There is a collage of AI art, then a text message that reads, “Sorry to bother you. It looks like someone on an AI subreddit is making a custom model and it reminds me a lot of your work. He isn’t telling anyone where the images are being sourced from.” Following is another collage of AI art, followed by the message, “Here’s another one.” The last message is a link to the subreddit.
Image 3 is another tweet that reads, “Oh so it *was* me,” with the word ‘was’ between asterisks for emphasis. The tweet includes two screenshots from the subreddit.
Image 4 is one of the subreddit screenshots. It is a post that reads, “Dreambooth model release! Say hello to kurzgesagtish!” Under these lines is a Reddit message that reads, “Sorry, this post was deleted by the person who originally posted it.”
Image 5 is the other subreddit screenshot. This post reads, “Results I got with a custom dreambooth model.” This post has the same deletion message as the former.
Image 6 is another tweet by Lee, which reads, “For comparison, here’s my art vs artist. I’m gonna cry.” Included is a collage of 8 works by Lee, which frame a photo of them. They follow up this tweet with another tweet, which reads, “If I see anyone I know using AI Art, they are dead to me.” The tweet includes multiple comparisons between Lee’s original art and an AI generated art piece based on it, judging by the subjects, colors, and lines.
Images 7, 8, and 9 are the examples from Lee’s tweet.
end description.]
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hihi!! idk if ur requests are open so ignore this if they aren't!
reader was cheated on so she goes to simons house for comfort. one thing leads to another and hes saying "i bet he couldn't fuck you like this" while absolutely destroying her
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” Simon grunted as he placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “He’s such a damn fool for what he did.”
You honestly don’t know how you ended up here. One minute you found out your boyfriend of 3 years was cheating on you, and the next you were laying underneath your best friend of 10 years as he completely worshipped you.
You should’ve known better, your boyfriend (well ex-boyfriend now) had so many red flags you’d lost count, but you always tried to see the best in people, never truly realizing just how hurt you could end up because of it.
Simon Riley was the one person in your life who was always your rock, always was there for you, always cared for you when nobody else bothered to. He was the only person you wanted to comfort you tonight.
He welcomed you with open arms like he always did, his hugs able to cure any emotion or ailment you may have. You’d cried your eyes out to him, let out all your frustrations into his chest as he held you close.
You never, never expected to end up kissing him, let alone finding yourself in his bed, being utterly ruined by him later that night. It was everything you never knew you hoped for. After the many years you’d been friends with him, you finally realized that he was the one you’d always wanted to be with.
“I don’t deserve you, Simon. You’re too good for me.” You cried out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix after a particular rough jut of his hips. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize.”
“You’ve got that backwards, love.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he slotted them against yours. His kiss was gentle, but so full of emotion it had your heart swelling. “I’ve wanted you to be mine since the day I laid eyes on you. I’m a patient man, sweet girl.”
You’d never been fucked like this before, never been worshipped like this. Your body felt weightless, a warm heat spreading throughout your body as Simon’s cock rubbed against your slick walls.
A guttural moan escaped your lips as he increased his pace, the sound of slapping skin filling the room. You felt your high rapidly approaching, as your toes started to curl, and your eyes fluttered shut. He was so fucking good at this.
“Did he make you feel this good, sweetheart?” Simon groaned, his breath fanning over your ear. “I bet he couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?”
You weakly shook your head, your mouth falling open slightly as Simon nipped at your earlobe, his thick length sliding against your walls at a frenzied pace. You’d never felt this full before, this stuffed. It felt like his cock was made just for you.
“That’s what I thought.” He purred, moving to capture your lips in his once more. His tongue darted out, exploring each and every inch of your mouth, committing your taste to memory. “Being so good for me. Can’t believe this is what I’ve been fuckin’ missing out on.”
“Simon.” You chanted, your nails digging crescents into the toned skin of his back. Soft moans and sounds of slapping skin deliciously filling the air as both of you lost yourselves in one another.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Say my name. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.” Simon cooed, his hands lacing with your own above your head as his cock continued to slide in and out of you at a brutal pace. “You are so incredible, love. I should’ve made you mine a long fuckin’ time ago.”
Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, every emotion you were feeling bubbling to the surface. You let your eyes flutter open, your heart skipping a beat as you found Simon looking down at you with complete and utter adoration.
Any self consciousness or self loathing thoughts you may have had before being in your best friend’s arms suddenly vanished, and were now left feeling completely and utterly cherished.
You slipped your hands from Simon’s, and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him impossibly close to you. You never wanted this moment to end. “I’m yours, Simon.”
“That’s right, love. All fuckin’ mine now. I am going to ruin you for any other man, love. Gonna treat you like the princess you are.”
And he fucking did.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley imagine#cod imagine#mw2 imagine#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#female reader
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you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3
THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️
You Were Never What I Wanted, (LN4)
Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?
Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts
Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho UPDATE: PART 2 POSTED!
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.
Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”
He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”
He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”
Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”
“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.
She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”
Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”
“I was standing up for myself!”
“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”
“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”
“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”
“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”
“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.
“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.
Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.
Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”
Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”
Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”
The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.
“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.
Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”
Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.
Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”
She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”
—
“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”
“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.
Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”
Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”
Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”
“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.
Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”
The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”
Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.
There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.
Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.
It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.
He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.
“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.
She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.
“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.
He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.
Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”
His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.
Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.
“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”
Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?
Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”
He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.
He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.
These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.
Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.
She can’t get feelings.
She won’t get feelings.
And that was that, she decided.
“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”
She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.
Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”
He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”
She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”
As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.
“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.
She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.
He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”
He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.
For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.
What a dangerous game.
—
Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.
She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.
He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.
He’s worried about her.
A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.
The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.
Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.
That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.
The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.
He wouldn’t risk that now.
Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.
“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.
He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.
Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.
“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.
“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.
“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.
She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.
Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.
“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.
“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.
Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”
“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.
“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”
Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.
Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.
Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”
Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”
She nods, “Yeah.”
They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.
“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.
She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”
Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.
“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.
If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.
Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.
Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.
When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”
“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.
He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.
Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.
It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.
His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.
“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.
She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.
Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.
Lando’s drink that’s completely full.
🏎️
Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.
His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.
All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.
The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.
His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.
Fuck it, he thinks.
He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.
No cameras, no fans, no press.
Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.
All I need is your love tonight.
—
“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.
Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”
He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”
She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”
He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”
She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.
When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”
She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”
He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”
Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”
He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.
A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”
Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.
“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.
His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.
He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.
“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.
The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.
He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.
After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.
He loves this. He loves he-
“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.
He can’t be feeling that way.
He isn’t.
Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”
The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”
Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.
He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”
You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.
The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.
She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.
She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.
By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”
He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”
He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.
Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.
Had he always meant everything?
—
Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”
There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.
Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.
“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.
Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”
Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”
Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”
Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.
Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.
“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.
Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.
Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”
He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”
His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.
“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.
It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.
Y/n’s car.
Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”
Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”
Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.
Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.
“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.
He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”
The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”
“How much help?”
Silence.
Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”
“She’s not moving.”
Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.
Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”
Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”
Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”
Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.
When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.
He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.
There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.
There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.
When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.
Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”
She nods, “Will be.”
“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.
They really were selling this.
Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”
He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”
Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.
“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”
The truth hangs in the air painfully.
They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.
All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.
Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.
And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.
—
“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.
He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.
“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.
Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.
With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.
The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.
With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.
Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”
She nods, “Always.”
A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.
In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.
At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.
Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.
How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.
🏎️
Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.
He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.
They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.
“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.
Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”
Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”
He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”
She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”
Of fucking course, he thinks.
“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.
Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.
“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.
“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.
Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”
Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.
They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”
Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.
“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”
His response, easy and light, crushes her.
Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”
Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.
He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”
Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”
Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”
He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.
Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”
Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.
A look of intense love.
She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”
He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.
🏎️
Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.
She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”
As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.
Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”
He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”
“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.
Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”
Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”
Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”
Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”
Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”
His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”
I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.
Those things go unsaid.
Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”
She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”
“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.
The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?
Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”
She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.
“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.
He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.
She isn’t. How could he say that?
How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?
How could he let her get away?
UPDATE: i posted part 2! Find it here.
A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagines#mclaren formula 1#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris fic#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris x you#lando norris edit
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how is this season of the mandalorian so bad and boring
#sorry to post hate on main but#holy fucking shit#ep 3 especially was a fucking drag#almost an hour of an episode and then fuckall happened#who wrote the dialogue and why cant they write dialogue#there was more emotion in my toast this morning than in this whole episode#also the fact that they set up some cool ass shenanigans at the end of the last ep w the fella in the pool#and then. bo: was that fucked up or what? din: was what?? bo: wait u see anything in the water? din: no?? bo: oh okay moving on then#???bro???#i wouldnt mind if the episode didnt continue w the most boring goddamn space fight ever#god the fights this season have been so damn boring holy fuck#the whole season tbh#where is that article that said the writer or director or whom was like ''yea haha we are not moving towards any ending here''#yea babe it fucking shows#these past eps have been like my worst and least prepped dnd sessions where i had no clue where shit was going#i still have hope esp cuz first season was a blast and the second was fine too#but man they really dont have any direction is this one at all.#makes no damn sense. doesnt fucking compell me either
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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. rich boy aventurine wants to tear up the new lingerie he's bought you // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ cw. prone bone, he rips a hole in your tights <3, fem! reader ♡
"fuuck, it looks so good on you," aventurine's gruff voice chimes against your mouth as he shapes his lips into yours, subtle and blurred and tasting of fresh peppermint— and there's a subtle hint of hunger to it, one that elicits a whimper from you, the low imposing of his voice making your stomach twist.
one sentence of your boyfriend was all it took for your thighs to press together and clench hard, and with him having you lavishly dressed up in the finest, most extravagant pieces of lingerie, it felt all the more heart thundering.
in fact, you will never get tired of listening to his voice, yet, something tonight was quite divergent of your previous days of intimacy— because there was a sense of urgency, of lust and his inability to take his eyes off you.
aside from his face signalizing pain and ache, he easily towers above you before smoothly sliding a hand through his blonde hair, "when i saw it in the store, i just knew it would fit you flawlessly, but doll..." he whispers, and his digits go straight down to grab at your ass and roughly squeeze it, his mind wandering in uncharted lust.
a tasteful gasp spills from the tip of your tongue as aventurine flips you on your stomach at last, attentively waiting for you to perk your butt up a little, as you always did for your boyfriend, walking him to his demise, "fuck, i need you so much," he tenderly brands your ass with his rough palms as you feel a nuance of power in his lustful traces.
you bite down on your bottom lip, "i need you too.." and whine blissfully as he grinds down against your plush ass, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear and playing with the lace trim, your swollen cunt peaking from under the thin material as he tauntingly tugs at the hem, only for the elastic to smack back against your skin.
"hey! be careful with the new pieces you got me," you feign a pout as you feel his cock bulge through his boxers, "you will rip them, baby," you continue to retort as your voice suddenly crumbles from within and a deep surge of emotions cascades through your frame the moment aventurine breaks a hole through your tights.
even the ripping effect of the fine material breaking into multiple pieces sounded expensive to your ears— in fact, you made sure to put up a mental sticker of getting him back for this later.
a low chuckle of amusement echoes over him as he draws his cock out before taking it in his palm, stroking lightly and slowly smearing his glossy pre from the tip to his shaft, "you can pick out the next one, okay?"
you roll your eyes at him as aventurine carefully draws his body on top of yours, "we can buy an entire collection," he whispers with a smile as you attempt to swallow the saliva in your throat.
you moan lowly, getting turned on by the constant presence of his wet tip pressing but failing to enter your hole, ah well— it's effective enough to make your pussy throb around nothing, strings of your arousal connecting the two of you as your trembling frame yields against his body.
your mouth opens before his words could register in your mind as you lean into his touch, hips wiggling so he could easily slip inside. you're so dizzying— it makes aventurine want to conquer every inch of your walls, every single spot of your thoughts and memories until you're fucked out of your mind.
the hard plane of his palm flexes against your skin as he leisurely grinds himself inside, your walls engulfing him in a heated, much-needed embrace of your warmth. "more— please..." you grab back to tangle your hand into his messy hair as he moves his hips into you with sultry drags, the cloying noises of your wet cunt undeniably elating the entire scene.
aventurine sighs out, "you're always so— tight, when we..." he pauses before placing a subtle kiss on your neck, "when you let me feel you," as he readjusts his hips a little, so he could feel you up deeper.
your stomach contorts at his rough, yet at the same time, passionate rocks of hips as you felt your slick arousal slide between your legs and mess up the soused panties and broken tights, as if, that would somehow even matter anymore.
it feels a little dirty, you can't lie, and you really loved the way you looked in this precise set of lingerie, but it also feels so good, when aventurine made you lose yourself from the torridity of being spread apart, his twitching shaft and his balls repeatedly smacking against your skin, so eager to be consumed by your wet walls.
©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr smut#honkai star rail smut#aventurine x reader#aventurine smut#hsr x you#honkai star rail x you#aventurine x you
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౨ৎ. CHOCOLATE LIPSTICK ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt
tags fem reader. enemies to ( ? ). mike is mean + angry. 2-3 year age difference. sexual tension. oral fixation. semi-brat taming + 1k words.
mike was staring at you funny, it made you feel weird — annoyed, actually.
“what?” your voice was harsh, muffled by the sweet frozen yogurt coating your mouth.
he raised a brow at your tone, a little vexed from your sudden attitude. it reminded him of the bratty kid he happened to escort out of a toy store just an hour ago. he’s in a bad mood already, but there was no reason to get mad right now.
“don’t talk with your mouth full.” mike tiredly mumbled. an honest suggestion, but half of what he really wanted to say.
you rolled your eyes at his critiquing words. he always seemed to lecture you about the littlest things. how you’re not as productive during your usual security checks or even that one time he was finding the mall keys during your shared nightly protocols — making sure to make a sly comment and sprinkle in an unneeded suggestion about how untidy your bag was. exactly how an obnoxious parent would.
it was annoying. being treated like a child and especially by someone like mike. so what if he was a few years older? slightly more mature than you, much more responsible, and definitely not hot. just a little bit tho, but you’ll never admit that.
but ninety-percent of the time he pisses you off, and this is one of those times.
you swallowed down the yogurt that melted from your seething irritation, brows furrowed at the snarky comment he had to make about your dining etiquette. it’s a fucking mall food court, not a fine dining restaurant.
“do you always have to be a dick to me?” your words were laced with venom, all the suppressed anger managed to bubble out your throat.
his calloused fingers suddenly stopped twisting on the volume of the two-way radio, usual soft hazel eyes darken to a muted brown, stubbled jaw clenched. mike swallowed back the urge to say a few fighting words at your childish retort.
your tone wasn’t a big deal. well, until now.
his day has already been ruined. parents weren’t so attentive when it came to their bratty children, that meant he had to parent them himself — awkwardly standing until their tantrums fall silent or escorting dozens of children that happen to run off for some ridiculous toy. he didn’t need anymore whining from you, especially about something he’s done without the intention of malice — you were childish, immature.
“i don’t need to hear this right now.” mike was too tired to argue. a heavy sigh escaping his lips, his rough hands brushing away the tired feeling in his eyes. “you’re acting like a kid right now, you know that?”
you swore your blood pressure just went up.
“see that’s what i’m talking about! you treat me like a kid and you have to be a total asshole about it. why?”
passing families and teens curiously looked towards your table, the sudden blast of your agitated voice drawing unneeded attention. just what mike needed.
he turns away from their prying eyes, flustered that he was a victim of your grownup tantrum. mike continues the silent treatment as he listens to your incoherent babbling, colorful words like “old man” and “asshole” passed through his eardrums like a sour tune. the grip of his arm was deadly tight. yet, your pouting made his heart skip a bit. it was adorable, it always has been. but not when it’s accommodated with your high-pitched whines, your brows knitted with all these negative emotions, cheeks redden from breathless insults. the angry look in your face looked so familiar — it was the same look everybody seemed to give him.
all this over a smudge of frozen yogurt on your mouth. he would laugh if he wasn’t at his breaking point.
“fuck, i hate yo – !“ with sudden force, mike grabs you by your chin, the pouring insults latched shut with a firm grip.
the reddish hue on your face that was once from your vexation became brighter from mike’s unusual forcefulness — he has never been this angry with you before. weirdly enough, you don’t hate it.
the chocolate remnants blotched over your cheeks, dribbling from your unwiped mouth, was he pointing this out the whole time?
“watch your mouth.” you didn’t know if he meant the mess you made or your little tantrum session that set him off.
maybe both, you can’t tell anymore.
you both stare at each other for a second, the tension so thick in the air — the invasive looks felt like a blur in the background, or rather, seemingly drawn away by this peculiar exchange. hazy eyes slowly peered down at your mouth, deliciously glazed with chocolate yogurt. it was tooth aching, he could imagine the taste on his tongue. if only he was a little closer, he never had to daydream about this ungodly sight for weeks.
his thumb slowly drags over your pinkish flesh, gathering the sweet residue that coated your quivering lips. he reached over the corners of your mouth, studying every hitch of your breath and the way you nervously fiddle with the plastic spoon. someone so loud, bratty, could be silenced with a single touch.
pushing past your pursed lips and clenched teeth with ease, his sweetened touch swirled all over your taste buds — the subtle hints of sweat somehow tasted sweeter than the chocolate goodness. mike watches you closely, his slacks suddenly feeling tight. you’re letting him do this to you, without a protest or your usual dirty look.
for another second, his fleeting touch brushed against your wet muscle, mesmerized by its softness. the darkness that loomed in his irises vaporized into a soft green, lured by the sight of an obedient mouth. he finally draws away, a string of saliva connecting his cleaned off thumb and your glossy lips. the rigid grip on your chin loosens as mike huffs in mild irritation, mostly out of astonishment from this predicament.
mike stands from his seat, hiding his hard-on with his bunched up security jacket — hand still soaked from your dribbling saliva. awkwardly, he picks up the trash splayed over the table, making sure his car keys were stuffed deep in his pocket.
“i’ll see you tomorrow.” he steadily spoke, seemingly unbothered.
you nodded, mouth still slightly agape.
mike walks off, leaving you with your own muddled thoughts.
out of complete horror, you hover your nimble fingers over your mouth — the taste of his skin still permeates on your tongue. even with how intimate that whole situation was, mike made sure to clean the remnants of frozen yogurt off your face.
the gall to leave you utterly confused, edged by this new side of your usual grumpy coworker. there was a line between guilty attraction and burning hatred towards mike, you were stuck in the middle of it. but your racing mind seemed to linger towards the shadows casting his tired eyes, the focused look on your compiling mouth, the demand in his voice animating your body like a toy. fuck, yeah okay, he was hot.
the ache between your legs seeped arousal through your pants, you thanked your employers that your uniform was black. gosh, it’s been so long since anybody has touched you like that.
you nearly break your skull when your head falls defeatedly on the table — a heavy groan vibrating in your chest.
you don’t know if you could come to work tomorrow.
© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.
#.୨୧ ina writes#.purple mark#( ? )#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt#fnaf movie x reader#fnaf movie#fnaf x reader#josh hutcherson
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play fake | part four
series play fake
— ( masterlist )
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.
content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole
zya's notes thank u for all your lovely comments and reblogs, i love reading them sm! this one is going to be a long one too, so please enjoy <3
dedication also, this chapter is for @rivaiken iykyk ;)
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚
The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.
It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.
Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.
But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.
Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.
The only problem is he doesn't give it back.
Asshole.
You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.
"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.
You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.
Only to realize it was Rafe.
Your smile drops.
"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.
"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."
"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"
"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."
"Business?"
"No, at my house."
Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."
"You don't even know what it is about."
"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"
His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.
"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."
You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."
"I haven't told you the day yet."
"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.
"I'll pay you."
"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."
Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?
"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"
You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.
You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.
Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.
"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"
You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."
His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"
Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."
He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.
"I remember you were begging for it."
You slap him.
It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.
Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."
His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.
You were going to drive each other insane.
And some sick part of you liked it.
"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."
"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."
"We never said that in our relationship."
"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."
You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.
"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."
He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.
"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."
For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"
"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"
To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.
He remains silent.
You continue.
"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."
You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.
Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.
"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.
"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."
He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.
—
As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.
About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.
About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.
Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.
Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.
"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."
You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.
A notification flashes at the top of your screen.
topperthornton: hey
Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?
you: hello?
He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.
you: why?
topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn
you: so i heard
topperthornton: well, you should come
you: i don't think so, white boy
topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u
Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.
you: ?? for what
You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.
You hate it.
topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u
You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.
topperthornton: u need to come immediately
Fucking hell.
You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy.
You have to go.
There's no other way around it.
Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.
It's Pope.
"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"
"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.
"Everything okay?"
"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."
Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."
"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"
He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."
You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.
When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.
Topper spots you at the porch.
"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."
You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.
"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"
"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."
You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."
Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.
You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.
You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.
Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.
When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.
You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach.
The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.
He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.
"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."
"I thought you said you had a double shift."
He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.
"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.
Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.
His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"
You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.
You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.
"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."
His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"
"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."
Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.
"I thought you needed help."
Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."
You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.
"Come here."
You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.
"I know something that would make me feel better."
You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"
"Sit on my lap."
You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.
Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.
"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.
"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."
You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.
"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."
You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."
"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."
You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.
You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.
The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.
"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"
He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."
His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.
You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.
"Don't do that."
"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."
"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."
"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."
He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.
"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."
You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.
This is done in complete silence.
Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."
You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.
"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."
He still doesn't get it.
You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."
His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.
"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."
You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.
"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."
"Easier said than done, darling."
Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.
He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.
You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"
"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."
You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.
When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.
It was easiest to talk to you.
It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.
Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.
And he used that to his advantage.
You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.
You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.
"God, your dad is a dick."
Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.
"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"
"I know what you mean."
That came out with an edge.
You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.
"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.
Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.
"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."
Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."
The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.
"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."
"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."
He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.
"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."
You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.
"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."
Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"
He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.
"Turn around."
Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.
"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.
"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."
Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.
You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.
Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.
"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.
"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."
His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"
"I look at you as I do."
A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.
You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.
And he's watching.
"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.
"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."
Fuck, Rafe thought.
With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.
"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.
You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.
"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."
When he truly means to stop torturing him.
You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.
A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.
And he's fucking hard.
Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it.
"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"
"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."
Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.
"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him.
"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."
He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.
You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.
Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"
You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"
He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.
It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.
He has enough.
"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."
He's bargaining, goddammit.
A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.
Rafe growls out your name.
You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.
"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."
You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"
He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."
"My pleasure, right, baby?"
"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."
You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.
"You can touch me."
Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.
"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.
"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."
"It doesn't feel good, does it?"
Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."
You provoke further. "You love it."
He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.
"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.
"Feels good?"
"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."
Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"
He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.
"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."
Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.
"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.
"I'm not going anywhere, baby."
Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm.
"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."
You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.
"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."
"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."
You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber.
— read part five —
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What’s your problem?
rough dom!matt x fem!reader
notes: this is my first smut so please lmk your thoughts!! send any requests ☁️
warnings: obv smut, degrading, pet names, fem receiving, p in v, cover it before you smother it,chocking, slapping, arguing, angst to smut to fluff, i think that’s all
enjoy 😊
word count: 2,460
*y/n’s pov*
*beep beep beep*
the loud sound coming from beside me causes me to jolt up and widen my eyes. i check the time.
3:46 a.m.
i stormed back into matt’s room after an argument we had. nick and i went out for dinner at boa and i came home to a cranky boyfriend that decided to his take anger out on me. instead of fixing the issue, we both agreed to ignore eachother for the rest of the night.
i go on my phone for about 20 minutes before my stomach growled at me. i decided to head over to the kitchen and fix up some cereal.
“look who decided to show their face to world! everyone welcome y/n to earth” matt snarks sitting at the dining table, paralleling the kitchen. i roll my eyes at the comment he made considering chris and nick went to sleepover at madi’s house leaving the house to just us.
“don’t be a brat just because you exhausted yourself in my bedroom.”
again. what is up with these rude comments?
“seriously matthew, can you act normal for 5 fucking seconds? you turned twenty months ago, act like it and quit being immature” i snap. my stomach gurgling louder as i pour cinnamon toast crunch in a bowl. i reach for the milk in the refrigerator and pour it into the bowl as i join matt across the dining room chair he’s sitting in.
silence
i bring my knees up to my chest as i eat the cereal looking up at the light flashing from my hand as i scroll endlessly on my phone. matt continues journaling and i can’t help but notice his veins appearing through his arm as he wrote quickly. his black tank top and gray sweats don’t help my imaginations, but i quickly snap out of them considering he’s being an asshole.
“hmm, so you have an attitude and staring a problem y/n?”
that’s was my final straw. i quickly slam the now empty cereal bowl into the sink and practically sprint upstairs to nicks bedroom and slam the door. i wasn’t going to spend another second with him until he sorted himself out.
i crawled into nicks silk sheets and bring the blanket up to my chest. i stayed in the bedroom with my back turned from the door. i wasn’t crying. i was frustrated. but that’s the thing with matt. he never admits he’s wrong.
*matts pov*
*slam*
she was being such a brat and i don’t even know why. it was like y/n wanted to get me worked up. i had already gotten into a shitty argument with laura and the managing team about the “lack of effort” i put into videos and her attitude made the situation way worse. i gave her a bit of time before i start to head upstairs. i knock on the door, no answer.
i slowly open the door to see y/n on her phone with her airpods in. she glances at me with an expression i cannot read.
did i seriously mess up that bad? i couldn’t have.
“cmon y/n let’s go to my room and sort this out.”
she takes her airpods out and returns them to the case. “okay.” i walk over to the side of the bed and take her forearm as i guide her downstairs, her following my steps. as i open the door to the room she enters, closing the door behind her and locking it.
*y/n’s pov*
we sit on matt’s bed, facing eachother. i could see his angry expression through his face, but he was trying to hide it.
“look y/n i don’t know what’s up with you, but you need to sort it out, okay? i’ve had a bad day already and your nitpicking isn’t making it any better.”
he’s got to be serious.
“my nitpicking?!” i say raising my voice. “from the second i walked into the door you have shown me nothing but disrespect. you’re being ignorant and selfish matt” my eyes burning from the emotions.
“im not the one who locked themselves in my room to avoid the situation now did i, y/n. now you’re going to get rid of that fucking attitude and quit raising your voice or el-“
“or else what?” i snap, raising my voice even higher.
matt lets out a sigh, almost like an “i told you so” breath. “you asked for it.”
before i could process what he meant, his tattooed covered arm reached to my throat and neck, giving it a squeeze. “you want to act like a fucking slut, then you’re going to take me like a fucking slut.” he growls pinning me to the headboard. his eyes were coated black with a small ring of blue. the hunger on his face growing by the second.
*slap*
“answer me slut, how are you going to take it?”
i was so shocked i didn’t know what to say, but i had to admit, i kinda liked it.
another slap.
“like a slut” i whimpered from the stinging on my left cheek.
“good, you’re going to listen to everything i say and don’t even think about cumming with asking me.”
i nod vigorously.
before i can speak, matt’s lip attach to mine quickly. his tounge explores my mouth as he quickly dominates me. he bites on my bottom lip as he slowly moves to my cheek. then my jaw.
soft moans are leaving my mouth as i tug on his brown locks. “fuck matt just like that” i say squeezing my eyes shut. “yea? you like it when i mark you whore?”
i nod quickly. “use your words or i’ll stop” matt growls between kissing my neck. “yes matt i love it”
i was a moaning mess. matt continued to suck, bite, and lick my neck. he left marks that were going to stay for weeks, maybe even longer.
matt quickly disregards his top and not long after comes to rip mine off. “hm, no bra tonight?” matt smirks before taking my right tit to his mouth. he swirls his tounge around and lightly nibbles it while taking the left and pinching my nipple with his long fingers.
“nnngh it feels so good but i need more matt” i whine underneath him. he pauses his movements and look back at me. “such a needy slut y/n” he replies.
before i could say anything else, he pulls me towards him using while hooking his arms underneath my thighs. matt rips my wide legged sweats off leaving me in just my panties. his face was so close to my throbbing pussy that is could feel his warm breaths on my puffy clit.
“you’re soaked y/n” matt growls.
*slap*
his hand slapped my folds. i let out a pornographic moan from the impact. “who does this pussy belong to?” “you matt, all you”
he chuckled through the whimpers i let out and finally takes my panties off. wasting no time, matt comes in contact with my clit and sucks on it so harshly. his hands came up to my tits, pinching and kneading them.
“mm-matt oh MY GOD” i screech. if he kept this up i would orgasm in no time.
matt stops sucking and lets go of my tits only to use one hand to spread my folds out more and the other hand vigorously rubs my clit.
i started to scream. it felt so good. “MATT UMPH SO GOOD” the knot in my stomach begging to release. “please let me cum” i plead getting hungrier by the second.
“go ahead let it out angel” matt says. with that i quickly release all over the sheets, but this doesn’t stop matt from continuing. “too much matt, i can’t tak-“
“whether you like it or not, you’re going to take it slut. you want to keep arguing with me, this is what you get. shouldn’t have got me so worked up y/n” matt argues. i couldn’t say anything as my swollen clit was getting thrown everywhere.
he finally lets go and i quickly close my legs together. my legs were shaking and i had tears rolling down my cheek. suddenly, i feel matt’s arms separate my legs. “did i fucking say i was done?” i nod my head no, slowly but enough to answer his question. “answer my question y/n”
“n-no you did not” i plead, my eyes and face swollen from the tears due to the overstimulation i was receiving. “yea that’s what i thought”
matt sticks his middle and ring finger into my cunt and wastes no time pumping in and out of me. he lowers his head more as he returns to my clit, nibbling and kissing it. “mmph matt” my hands tug at his messy curls. his eye brows were brushed in every direction and his cheeks were painted with a light pink. he continues pumping into me as my back arches. i was on the verge of passing out due to his movements. i felt his fingers curl up and find my sweet spot.
matt continued to hit my g-spot and i felt the familiar knot return. “C-CLOSE” i whisper being worn out. “hold it.” matt snaps. the blue in his eyes completely disappeared. i couldn’t take it anymore, but i didn’t want it to stop.
matt continues to thrust his fingers into my pussy and rub harshly on my clit as i scream. not taking it anymore, i release all over his fingers.
“didn’t i tell you that you couldn’t cum yet?” matt mumbled. “ c-can’t hold any l-longer” i say as my body is worn out. i feel my body go limp as matt removes his fingers out of my pussy. he gets up and shifts so he’s sitting on the bed. i couldn’t open my eyes but i felt his move up again, this time lifting me up. he places me on his desk chair and throws my legs over each arm chair.
“since you can’t follow simple rules like a good girl, you’re going to take it one more time, and if you don’t hold it, well… i can go all fucking night.” matt snarks. i quickly shoot my eyes open in fear. the thought of going all night sounded intriguing, but i couldn’t even handle two orgasms.
i nod slowly at matt’s remarks and feel his swollen lips come in contact with my neck. his kisses were soft, but passionate. i moan softly at the sudden sensation and my hands reach for his hair one more time. matt begins to slide is gray sweatpants off along with his dark blue boxers. his dick is swollen and his tip was a harsh pink shade, leaking with precum.
with one quick touch, matt slips right into me, considering how wet i was. without letting me adjust matt begins to pound into me. one of his hands crept to my throat giving it a light squeeze while the other hand went to my clit once again rubbing and pinching harshly. “AH i’m t-too sensitive!” i scream my hand quickly trailing to matt’s wrist in attempt to move it away from my lower half. i quickly regret the action when matt’s hand squeezes my throat tighter.
“don’t even think about doing that again” matt says as he continues to push in and out of me. “s-sorry i just can’t take a-anymore” i cry. my face was red and the tears were everywhere. “yes you can. you will.” matt says. after a couple minutes of matt’s actions he lets out a groan. “fuck y/n, i’m close” matt says. both his hands come on either side of the desk chair as he pounds into me. the brown haired boys eyes were screwed shut and his eyebrows furrowed. “m-me too” i manage to say using every last bit of energy in me. “can i please cum matt?” i beg. i’ve been holding it since he began thrusting into me. “do you think you deserve it” matt mumbles. i nod my head quickly before he says “go ahead, cum you whore.”
without waiting any further, i release for the third time that night. matt rails me through my high before he finally reaches his climax. he releases long white strings into my as he removes his cock from inside of me.
finally catching my breath, i feel matt’s present leave the room before he comes back in.
*matts pov*
i return to the room with a towel and water for y/n. she was collapsed on the chair, her legs still spread as both our cums we’re seeping out of her. i walk over and clean her up gently. she winces at the touch and grabs my biceps for support. i smirk at her struggle to open her eyes. i smirk at her struggle to open her eyes. she mumbles something but it was almost inaudible. “speak up baby” i say as i begin to change the sheets. “can’t move” is all y/n can get out of her soft lips.
i quickly finish putting the new sheets on and throw the old ones in the wash. i walk over to my drawer and take out a pair of my boxers and a ransom t-shirt for y/n. picking her up gently, i place her on the bed and lift her legs up to skips the boxers on. i lift her back up and her head quickly fad on my chest and i attempt to put the t-shirt over her head. after i dress her up i walk over and change into a new pair of boxer and blue plaid pajama pants. i grab my hair brush and walk over to y/n.
“you’re hairs a mess baby let me brush it” i chuckle. y/n lets out a soft hum as i brush her beautiful hair . once im finished, i put the hairbrush on the nightstand and lift the covers as i pick y/n up and slips her underneath them. i plant a kiss on her forehead before walking onto the other side of the bed and getting in.
after a moment of silence y/n mumbles “does this mean your not mad at me anymore?” i let out a laugh before replying to her. “of course i’m not mad at you baby i couldn’t even if i tried.” with that, i grab y/n and she throws her legs and arms over me. her head was snuggled in the crook of my neck and i leaned my face at the top of her head as i plant a kiss there.
“my sweet girl, get some rest my love”
taglist: (comment here to be on it)
@mattsleftnipple03 @ilovemenwithlonghairr @mangoposts @guccifrog @lovingmattysposts @sturnioloenthusiast @lolasturniolo @sophssturn @sstvrnioloo @n00dl3zzz
#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets fluff#sturniolo edit#sturniolo triplets smut#matt sturniolo imagine
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Good In Bed
Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader
Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you're only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?
Warnings: brief mentions of smut but not smutty, jake kinda being an asshole, reader getting upset and yelling at him, fluff ending all the way baybay
Notes: u have no clue how much i love u @roleycoleyland for literally being the reason this got finished <;3 <;3 <3 title from Good In Bed by Dua Lipa <3
Masterlist
Jake pumps his hips hard into yours one final time, before he at last collapses beside you, chest sweaty and heaving, his eyes closed and his face raised to the ceiling. Your position had shifted from the pure force of your fucking, and somehow your head had fallen off the side of his bed, leaving you hanging slightly as you too try to catch your breath.
“Damn, I’ve missed this,” he says a short time later, shifting himself fully out from between your legs, and tucking his hands behind his head, the afterglow of a good lay lingering on him beautifully. Once upon a time his words might’ve sparked pride or even joy, but now they’re just one more cut that stings painfully before being swallowed up. You note sourly he doesn’t say he’s missed you, despite the fact he’s been gone ten weeks now, and against your better judgement you missed him.
You lay there on his bed in the late evening and regret every moment that led you to this point. You shouldn't have picked up when he called tonight, you shouldn't have come over for drinks, and you definitely shouldn't have had sex with him again.
It’s not that Jake isn't a nice guy, well, he isn’t always, but for the most part he was a mile more decent than most of the guys you’d actually dated in the past. From the start he was straightforward and blunt with you about what this thing between you would be, how much he was offering you, and to his credit, he rarely seemed to step outside of that. And like an idiot, you’d gone and gotten feelings for him anyway.
You should have stopped seeing him long before his most recent deployment, and you shouldn't have been there the night before he left for him to hit you with another straightforward and blunt assertion that you were only fuck buddies, nothing more.
The thing is, you and Jake got on well, so well in fact most people assumed that you were an item, and at this point maybe you were blinded by your feelings, but you couldn’t exactly see why you shouldn't be, aside form the fact that Jake didn’t seem to be interested in any sort of commitment, despite what that offered was basically what you had now, only he didn’t have to go out of his way to break your heart once a week.
After the last time, before he’d left for ten weeks, you’d sworn off him for good. You put his name in your phone as ‘DO NOT CALL’, you downloaded a few dating apps, you’d even been on a few dates… and then Jake had sauntered back into your life, invited you over for the night and just like none of your progress existed in the first place, you’d come at his beck and call.
You lay there feeling pathetic as it sinks in what you’ve done, but swallow back your emotions for now. You were an adult, you chose to do this with him tonight, you knew what it would do. Warm fingers make you jump as they wrap around your wrist, and you glance up to watch as Jake effortlessly tugs you back onto the bed, closer to him, never letting his hand leave your skin as he releases you to skim his fingers up and over your shoulder, drawing you even closer until you’re almost cuddling. You nearly pull away.
Jake wasn’t a post-sex cuddler, not really anyway. Aftercare? No problem, but this wasn’t exactly the sort of session that required aftercare, so you’re more than a little surprised by his continued affections, staying still as he curls himself onto his side to face you, hand dropping to grab at your thigh, which he hikes over his, as if this was something you normally did.
“You may need to give me a few before we go again,” you tell him, realising this position was probably just him gearing up for round two. Jake peeks an eye open at you, and lifts an eyebrow as though what you’ve said is very funny.
“I don’t think I’ve got more to give tonight,” he says, adjusting your leg around him again, pulling you in even more. You refrain from frowning, if only to avoid explaining to him why. Jake closes his eyes again and lets out a contented sigh. His hand stays curled around your leg, though he begins rhythmically smoothing his thumb back and forth over your skin after a few moments, and you begin to wonder at what point he’s going to withdraw from you like he usually does.
Luckily you’re saved from the dreaded wait, your phone buzzing loud and distractingly. You use it as the perfect excuse to extract yourself from him, instead moving to a sitting up cross-legged position as you reach for your phone, and draw the screen closer to your chest when you see who it’s from. Jake seems only a little disgruntled by your movement, though gets over it quickly, replacing his hand almost exactly where it once was around your thigh.
“What's going on?” he asks casually, eyes closed again as you tap out a reply. You spare him half a glance, but don’t feel much point in lying to him about things, seeing as he’d never done so with you.
“Just this guy I met on Tinder a while back.” you tell him lightly, completely missing how his eyes pop open immediately and he stares up at you with an unreadable expression.
“You’re on Tinder?” he asks, voice blank, finally making you look down at him properly. You blink and shrug, before going back to your phone.
“Sure, I mean, I don’t know how else to meet people these days, I kinda don’t get out much when Dagger’s not around,” you inform him, shifting in your place slightly as he withdraws his hand from your thigh to lay over his sternum instead.
Feeling the mood shift, but unsure as to why, you force out a laugh and shrug.
“It’s been sorta nice, trying to get back out there again properly, not just, you know, settling or whatever.” that makes Jake react clearly, frowning at you while pushing himself into an upright position.
“Settling?!” he repeats, though it’s not really a question. You stare at him in confusion.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m getting past the point in my life where I wanna be doing this,” you getsure between the two of you. “All the time.”
Jake blinks at you in clear offence, before quickly his entire demeanour seems to change all at once, and his expression falls into a somewhat familiar cocky grin.
“Alright, I get it,” he says, only further confusing you and you’re caught off guard enough that when he reaches out and plucks your phone from your hands, you don’t have time to react.
“Hey! Jake!” you protest, suddenly a little panicked as he very easily plays keep-away from you, using one of his hands to do something on your screen, while the other easily bats away you various attempts to swipe your phone back.
“You don’t need any of this shit, alright?” Jake tells you almost condescendingly.
“Jake!” you warn, your voice growing less calm by the moment.
“There, gone. Deleted.” he says proudly, before at last turning your phone screen around to face you, and letting you take it back off him, which you do hurriedly, snatching it away and standing up from the bed.
“What the fuck?!” you demand, looking agape between your now tinder-less phone, and Jake. The blond looks more relaxed now, and all of a sudden any thought of keeping your brooding and your feelings to yourself goes out the window. Your eyes prickle.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you do that?!” you shout. Jake has the smarts to at least drop his smug grin, but now he stares up at you in even more annoying surprise.
“I was just–” he starts, but you don’t even care what he has to say anymore.
“You don’t get to leave for ten weeks after, especially after reminding me that you don’t want me, and then just show up again and ruin my chances at finding someone who actually does!” your raised voice wobbles, and you don’t bother trying to hide your sniffling as you continue to lay into him. “That’s not fair! You’re being unfair!” you cry. “How many girls did you take home while you were away, huh?”
Jake blinks at you, a shade of indignance colouring his features now.
“None.” he tells you, but you can only scoff.
“Right. And how many did you flirt with? How many did you buy drinks for?” he stays silent at those questions, either not wanting to answer or no longer seeing the point in the face of your tirade. You stare at him until your eyesight blurs completely before at last you reel back from him.
Gasping a little at the state you’ve worked yourself into, you turn half away from him and wipe desperately at your eyes.
“Baby–” Jake starts, his fingers brushing your wrist, but you jerk away this time, pulling your hand and your phone to your chest.
“I need to go. I shouldn’t have come,” you tell him, collecting your clothes quickly before escaping into his bathroom.
You can't help but feel a little pathetic as you cry harder once you’re in the relative privacy of his ensuite, a strange but familiar disappointment lancing through you when he doesn't come after you. However upon swinging the door back open once you’re dressed, you find Jake standing in front of his bed, sweatpants now fastened around his hips, and a determined expression on his features.
“I’m not letting you leave like this,” he tells you firmly, as if he has any say in what you do. You scoff at him, but don’t cover up your still dripping eyes. If anything, his resolve seems to strengthen.
“Look, be pissed at me, I deserve it, but I’m not letting you drive home when you’ve been drinking,” his voice leaves little room for argument, and even though in the back of your mind you know he’s actually being the decent version of himself right now, you can’t help but snarl at him in disgust.
“Fine! Then I’ll call an uber. I’m not staying here.'' You're aware you sound a little childish, and you feel a small pang of regret when Jake’s face flashes with hurt that is quickly covered up by sternness. Going against all the signs you’re putting out to him right now, Jake moves forward and stops your movements to find your shoes by laying both hands on your shoulders. When you look up at him, eyes still blinking away tears, he seems sincere and pleading.
“Just… just stay here, I’ll sleep in the lounge, alright? Just don’t go home like this.”
You want to snap at him that he has no right to ask that of you, but somehow you think he already knows that, and is still asking anyway. You realise dully, that just like you always wanted, Jake was chasing you now, though, you aren’t sure you really want it anymore.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you–” he cuts himself off, just as you shrug out of his hold.
“Please do not talk to me right now.” is all you can manage by way of agreeing to his terms.
You can barely bring yourself to look at him as he goes about collecting up his pillow and a spare blanket, and a part of you feels cruel, but the bigger part of you is proud that you’ve finally put your foot down. Maybe at some other time you’d let him talk, but right now all you can think about or hear is every moment prior to this night when he’s hurt you.
You’d hoped you’d at least be able to fall asleep somewhat fast, but the longer you lay there, the longer you go over and over every little detail of your night until you find yourself downstairs, wrapped up in the throw blanket from Jake’s bed, and standing a few feet away from him on the couch. He sits up immediately when he noticed you, chucking his phone down and focusing intently on you. You note he doesn’t open his mouth, or attempt to speak yet, and you almost regret telling him not to earlier.
You stare at one another hard, until you have to suppress a small hiccup, at which point you frustratedly wipe your face with the back of your hand and cross your arms in front of you.
“Why did you do that?” You ask, amazed your voice sounds as firm as it does. Jake stares up at you with a mixture of uncertainty and something you want to say is remorse but you can’t bring yourself to believe right now that he would be.
“I’m not good at this stu—”
“—No, tell me why you did it.” You cut him off, not willing to listen to his self-pity right now. Jake closes his mouth and blinks up at you, staring intently for a few moments before he shifts in his seat. “Did you miss me?” You prompt after he continues to stare, eyes somewhat pleading. You understand relationships and vulnerability are hard for him, you’re willing to give him this olive branch for now. To his credit, Jake immediately nods, his hands coming together across his spread thighs to wring anxiously.
“Yes. I’m sorry—”
“—If you ever try any of that shit again, I’m kicking your ass,” you tell him. Jake blinks, then straightens up, and nods again. Your lip wobbles and this time when he reaches a hand out for you, he doesn’t grab you, but waits for you to shuffle forward toward him before pulling you in.
He tugs you forward to come stand between his legs, and bows his forehead to rest against your abdomen, his hands anchored at your hips.
“I don’t want you to think I don’t want you,” Jake mumbles, loud enough for you to hear, and you know this is a big admission for him.
“I know it probably doesn’t feel like it, but you can just, you know, tell me that…” you reply, letting your hands fall into his hair where you begin to smooth down some of the mess you made of it earlier. “I want you,” you say, realising while he may subconsciously know that, you’ve also never told him before. “I would never have let you mess me around if I didn’t,” you add with a short laugh, and flick his ear gently. Jake huffs, and lifts his head so he’s looking up at you now, chin resting on your belly.
“I don’t want you to date anyone else. I should have told you that back when I realised it…” he says softly, looking for the first time since you’ve known him like holding your eye contact is uncomfortable for him. “Is that okay?” He asks even quieter.
“Only if you don’t half ass it,” you peer down at him with playful scepticism.
Jake’s fingers at your hips tighten and his eyes narrow.
“I don’t half-ass anything,” he tells you sourly, before making a face. “Tonight notwithstanding.” he adds after a moment. You can’t help it then, you chortle, and hold the sides of his face. Jake smiles, seemingly proud of himself for making you laugh, and he adjusts his hold on you, moving his hands down to tug you into him, so your knees buckle and you’re forced to catch yourself on his shoulders just as he manoeuvres you to sit on his thigh.
“I’m sorry,” he says, far more seriously, leaning his forehead against yours now that you’re face to face. You cup his cheeks again, and dip forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.
“You will be out on the curb so fast if you fuck me around again,” you tell him cheerfully, making him laugh this time.
“Noted,” he says, before he steals another kiss, longer this time.
When he pulls back at last, you feel yourself relax fully against him, and move to rest your head in the crook of his neck.
“Can we go to bed now?” he asks after a few seconds. You nod, stifling a suspiciously timed yawn, and yelp a little when he scoops your legs under his arm and stands, grinning smugly all the way back upstairs.
#jake seresin x reader#jake 'hangman' seresin#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader#jake seresin#hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic#jake hangman seresin#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick
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♡ Hook, line, and sinker (2) (sub!abby // follower req)
Basketball!abby X nerdy reader
Read pt.1 here
♡ ♡
Summary: Abby gets eager to get another study seshion in within days of seeing her last
Warnings: smut, MDNI, sub!abby, top!reader, abby is a whiny sub, orgasming from being untouched, lots of tongue???, my digital footprint is assfucked, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader
A/N: sorry I left yall on a cliffhanger but pt.3(finale) will undoubtedly be my favorite, I’ve had it planned from the beginning so hehe. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. Love you like always, enjoy muah!
♡ ♡
She couldn’t even fucking look at you. Not a single glance. It’s as if her every pathetic whimper and plea would broadcast to the general public if she so much as looked your way.
It was pathetic, and a little comical to say the least. The power you held over her was obvious, and she knew it. It made her sick, the way she gave up so easily, broke down every wall, gave into you. But for fuck’s sake was it riveting, she couldn’t stop thinking of the intensity…how powerful yet slow you made it. How you worked your way into completing dissecting her.
She had never let any sexual manner have the chance of passion, intimacy. Sex was a goal to her. The intricacies getting to that destination were trivial to her. You fucked it all up, she started dwelling on it, growing obsessed of every detail you slowed masterfully.
She needed more.
♡ ♡
After a week of unmet glances and radio static you came to the conclusion that you completely wrecked the ox of a woman. All it took was a few words and your tongue to rip her out of her upheld perception of herself.
You tried fucking with her the second time you had class with her. Once, sure, maybe she was busy or concentrated for once, but twice? She was purposefully hiding, like a scared bunny from a predator.
You bumped into her walking out of class. If you could even call it a bump- more like you threw your body at her knowing that she couldn’t ignore it. At the touch of you she almost seized up, staring down at the floor in front of her, continuing her path. You threw her a teasing, “oh…sorry!” To which she returned with awkward mumbling, something along the lines of, “ah- uh-,” and continued almost in a run away from you.
You laughed it off. A few words and your tongue…fucking comical.
If avoiding her reality is the way that worked for her, so be it. There was no need to try to process her internal emotions- she couldn’t even do it. So, you let it die, you knew the type of person she was. You knew her dirty little secret.
♡ ♡
Another mind numbing night of studying till your eyes popped out of their sockets was in store for you. Staring at white pages filled with words and highlighting’s, fuck they could be in another language for all you knew at this hour.
It was getting late and you were about ready to throw the towel in, making it tomorrow mornings issue. You hear a buzz from your phone, rubbing your eyes you wonder who has the audacity to try speaking with you at this hour. “Abby Anderson,” illuminates on your face. At first you think you may be dreaming, your eyes weren’t working well at this point anymore.
A.A: Can we meet up this week, need help w the test
Now you need me?
A.A: huh
Nothing. Test isn’t for another 3 weeks… why do you want to start now?
A.A: need to get ahead
Mmm okay. Tomorrow at the library?
A.A: too loud
Okay coffee shop
A.A: I don’t like coffee
I didn’t ask
A.A: I’ll be over at your place tomorrow- 8
Little late for studying
A.A: do you ever shut up
If you promise you’ll be nice
A.A: I didn’t say that
I’m sure you’ll be a good girl
A.A: let me come over
See you at 8 tomorrow.
Only Abby Anderson would attempt to booty call you through a ruse of studying. She usually came knocking down your door the night before the test begging you for your help. Three weeks before was, well… pathetic.
♡ ♡
When she showed up at your dorm door, 8pm on the nose, she was more nervous than you had ever seen her. She blessed you with one weary glance as you whipped the door open, but continued her gaze down afterwards.
When she sat on the bed, for the first time she sat completely straight up, uncomfortably straight, folding her legs across and twiddling her fingers between her legs. A nervous habit you’d picked up from her on your last endeavor.
She never usually paid attention to your lecturing but fuck was it like she wasn’t even in the room this time. Throwing out quick “yeah’s” and “yup’s” on a routine after you’d say a thought.
You knew exactly what she came here for…but god was it fun to watch her squirm. You could’ve thrown her…okay maybe not thrown…but at least pushed her down on your bed so she didn’t have to do any work, give her the easy way out. But that would not have been amusing.
You’re in the middle of explaining a chemistry equation and- “can you just- do it,” she blurts out, stopping you completely in your tracks. You watch her intently, waiting for an elaboration you won’t get. Her eyes trained on her lap, waiting for you to pick up her scattered pieces and place them together.
“Do what abby?” You say faking curiosity. “You know,” she says in return. “I don’t think I do,” you taunt her. “Please-“ she says meekly. You begin to crawl silently towards her, moving her hands up from her lap so you can straddle her and move her hands back to tops of your thighs.
The sudden sensation causes her breath to hitch, her eyes watching her unwarranted hand placement on your thighs. You lightly grip her jawline so that she meets your eyes, just watching as her mouth opens in a pant.
“You make me nervous,” she says, if she could, she’d break your eye contact, but you wouldn’t let that happen.
“New game.”
She looks back at you puzzled, almost frightened. You grip your hand around her chin tighter, “you’re going to lay down, just like the last time, and I’m going lick every inch of you, and you’re going to tell me right where it’s sensitive, you understand?”
You watch as she gulps down a nervous breath, shaking her head rapidly, eyes dazed. “Good girl, now go lay down.” Her hands move to your hips, grasping down on the flesh desperately, “I can’t handle when you call me that-“
“No touching- or I stop.” She pulls her hands down quickly, moving her way to the back of your bed. “Y- okay. I-I promise.”
She looked like I child waiting to open presents on Christmas, eyes bright and wide, waiting for your command. This time you didn’t have to ask, she immediately ripped her shirt and sweats off, leaving her only in her sports bra and boxers adorned with a patch of slick forming in the center. You climb closer to her, kneeling between her thighs.
Just to toy with her further you slowly begin unbuttoning your blouse, her mouth starting to gape. Once it had been completely removed you started working on your shorts, slowly shimmying them down your thighs with your eyes trained onto her. She bit onto her lip watching as you were left only in your own bra and panties.
You climb back onto her, bare skin on bare skin. You wanted to tear into her, but taking your time to cut deep would be so much more rewarding. “You understand the rules?” You as watching her teeth cut into her lip, “mhm,” she replies through her closed mouth.
You lean into her, catching her shoulder with your tongue as she jolts into you. You feel her arms come up beside you but fall quickly. You trace it up to her collarbone, letting your teeth graze the thin skin there, following to where they met in the middle. You trail it up the middle of her throat, feeling the vibration of her breath.
“C-close,” she breaths out. You redirect to the side of her neck, right on the pulse. You already knew it was sensitive there but…it was fun.
“Fuck there,” she breathes out. You take your time licking down the throb, nipping at it, teasing the threat, eliciting as many little whimpers you can get out of her. Once you’ve had your fun you move up, catching the lobe of her ear with your teeth, “holy fuck- yeah there,” she groans out.
You bring your mouth into her ear, whispering gently into it as your hand snakes against the opposite side of her neck, “what? No ones ever touched you here?”
She groans back at you, “n-no. Never.” You return back to the shell of her ear, nipping at the surrounding flesh.
You begin your decent, your clothed cunt reaching hers, “take this off for me pretty,” you say outlining her bra with your fingertips. She feverishly nods tossing it off of her. You lean into her chest, taking no time to meet your tongue to her rose pink bud. Her body jolts up at the sensation, her chest growing a deep shade of pink.
“There. Right there!” You begin circling it, saturating it with your spit, “I know baby,” you say glancing back into her eyes, lidded trying to keep them open so she can watch you, but it was getting so so hard.
Your teeth latch onto it, encasing the bud gently. Flushed red as the blood raced to them, teeth purpling dots into the soft flesh. The whimpers falling off her pathetic throat.
“You k-know you c-ant talk to me like that,” you watch as her hands grip into the sheets, knuckles whitening. “You can come baby, I won’t be mad.” Your fingers come up to twist her untouched nipple as you lap your tongue at the swollen one in your mouth.
The pool of your own arousal soaking into hers, even covered you can feel the pulsing of her, repeated by your own.
“I- I can’t.” She pants out as her hips buck up into your clothed core. “Yes you can, you’re being such a good girl, show me how good you feel.”
“Please- no n-not like this.” Her head drops into your pillow…she’s so fucking close. The red on her chest now trailing up her neck.
“Come for me pretty girl, just like that, rub that pretty pussy into me.” She begins shaking, trying to stop herself, but it was too late.
“Fffffffuckkkkkkkk,” she begins reeling, whimpering through her reluctant orgasm. Her hips grind into yours as her chest splattered with beads of sweat rapidly rises and falls. “Good girl, keep going.” She rides it out as long as she can, chasing her own pathetic untouched high.
Once she settles she glances up at you dazed, as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. You stare back smugly, sure of your power.
“That was- embarrassing.” She ashamedly shakes her head, letting the tight grip of the sheets go. “Quite hot on the contrary,” you dismiss. “God if anyone ever-“ she begins to protest.
“Let me show you how it makes me feel,” you cut her off, dismantling yourself from her so that your legs frame around hers, wide open.
Your own pool of slick dripping out the sides of your thin panties. She gawks at the site, unable to remove her gaze from the sense of familiarity. The feeling of intensity so tight you cant stop yourself from the natural reaction.
“Can I-“ she begins to reach out to you but you cut her short, “no.” You dismiss her with no room for discussion.
This wasn’t about your secret. It was about hers.
Follower req by: @ghgygd
Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow
#abby anderson#the last of us#abby anderson smut#abby x reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby angst#abby the last of us#abby tlou#sub abby#abby anderson fanfiction#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson x reader#abby x fem!reader#abby anderson x f!reader#abby anderson x you#abby a
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tired and needy bf Choso !! nsfw; m. oral <3
"y/nnnnnn" he whines when he gets in the door some nights.
He's too fucking tired to look around the house for you, but he needs you bad and he needs you now.
"y/nn!!" louder this time, but still so whiney.
He sighs and slumps his body on the sofa, massaging his sore head, his impatience and desperation to see you only growing.
He imagines how you touch him... how it makes him feel alive again.
And while his eyes were covered by his hands you appeared.
Between his knees, sitting on the carpet in your little nightie.
The sweetest, most angelic girl.
"Baby~" he sighs with happiness, seeing you kneeling there looking up at him.
But he doesn't get much time for the moment to sink in because you're already reaching for the zip on his jeans, undoing it and getting your hands on him.
He bites at the metal ring in his lip and he feels lust start to take over his body.
And when you pump him once, twice... he lets out a whimper and gets excited very quickly, getting erect with those delicious veins bulging and a little bead of precum pooling at his tip.
"Choso, baby~" your voice soothes him and he leans back on the sofa, his breath catching in his chest with little groans of your name, "are you all horny and needy today, sweetie?"
He gulps and his eyebrows screw up as you get a little faster.
"Yeah~" he bites his lip before continuing, "so fucking horny for you."
His breathing gets heavy and it looks like he might get a bit worked up.
You know how he gets emotional with you sometimes.
"Okay, it's okay sweetheart," you calm him down and watch him sigh and moan with relief and pleasure.
"I know you're tired, baby, but I'm here now," you give him a little smile that lights up his entire world and makes his heart pound in his chest.
"I'm here for you, Choso.. let me take care of you~" you hum and keep tugging him, up and down.
"ugh- ffuck- th-thank you~" he groans and his eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back while his hands fist the plushy sofa cushions, wishing he was squeezing your ass instead.
"It's okay, just relax."
You think you've comforted him enough with your words now, so while his eyes are still closed you lean forward and surprise him with your mouth.
Hot and wet, around his cock, swallowing him in and licking him up.
"Hnng hnn--- fuckkk- fuck baby-!!"
He lets out that pretty whining sound again.. like some kind of whimpering puppy, and he opens his eyes to see you sink your lips right to his base.
"Hahhh- oh --!"
"Mmmmm~~" you hum with pleasure and start sucking your poor, tired, horny boyfriend into oblivion.
You look up at him, making eye contact through the tears collecting in your waterline, you gag a little, and you watch him lose his mind.
"Ahhh-- hhah -- fuckfuckkkfuck--"
He whimpers, delirious thoughts taking over, his head starting to spin, until he feels a rushing, pulsing sensation through his core.
He whines and screws his eyes shut but your image is there in his head- your gorgeous face, cheeks hollow from sucking on his fat cock that you love so much, pretty hands resting on his thighs spreading his legs wider so you can get closer to massage his balls.
Everything you do is so perfect.
As if you were made for him.
He couldn't imagine anything more heavenly and he never wants it to end.
"Babyyy-- baby, hmm- uh umm-- mm close- already-"
You look up at him with surprise.
"S-sorry, ss- uh, uh---"
"Mm mm" you shake your head fractionally, continuing your bobbing motions, taking him in and out.
And you notice he finally looks relaxed.
He looks happy.
And you feel so satisfied that you've managed to calm his mind and soothe his body, if only temporarily.
The sight of him all blissed out makes you moan and that's when he starts to come undone.
The warm pleasure pulses up his shaft and spills out with a few bucks of his hips.
You gag on his tip, hot cum trickling into your mouth, over your lips and down your throat.
"S-sorry- fuck--!"
"Mm," you dip your head down and up again, finishing him off until he starts panting and pushing you off.
And he stares... at his pretty girlfriend all dripping with his cum.
"Hot- fuck-- you're hot-"
It's all he can get out as he brings a hand to his brow, swiping away the sheen of sweat as you clean yourself up.
Once you're done you return and tug up his shorts, taking your place on his lap.
"Baby~" he looks at you with pure amazement, "thank you.. so much. You really... you-- you make me feel so good."
He stumbles out his words, sheer exhaustion taking over as he wraps you up in his arms. And you stay here, undoing his bunches and running your hands through his hair till he falls asleep with his hands under your dress. He holds onto you so tight, and you quickly realise you might be sleeping right here on the sofa tonight.
choso
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#18+ content#female reader#choso#choso kamo#jjk choso#choso x reader#choso smut#jujutsu kaisen choso
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