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tasteracha · 4 months

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kinktober - day sixteen

kink: sex toys with jilix

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, afab!reader. mention of hentai (typical jlix things). 3k.

it’s something that felix and jisung bring up all the time. throughout your entire time as roommates slash best friends with benefits they’ve talked about it, but they’ve never followed through with it.

they want to ruin you. stretch you so far that you’re left with your pussy gaping, fill you up so far that it feels like your breath is taken away. the thought of it sends you into a dizzy spell if you think about it too long, but it’s always just that. a thought. you’re not sure why, since every other kink that’s been brought up has been tried and added to the ranked bulletin board in your room.

handcuffs? yes, enthusiastically.

petplay? no, much to jisung’s poorly concealed disappointment.

stuffed full of sex toys? TBD.

but no matter how many times any of you had brought it up, whether it be giggling into a glass of wine or holding hands in the dark under your covers, they never made any moves to make it become reality.

so, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

it’s almost too easy to sneak an excessively large order of sex toys onto jisung’s credit card, the one he had given to you with a wink and a whispered you know what to do with this. you hadn’t known what to do with it, but you pocketed the card anyways, saving it for a rainy day. maybe this is what he had meant when he said that to you - you’ll find out soon, probably.

by the time it arrived you were almost sick with anticipation, the thought of it not leaving you as you obsessively checked the tracking of your package every possible second. when it finally arrived they weren’t home, and you opened it without abandon, ripped pieces of cardboard littering the floor. they looked…daunting. almost scary. incredibly exciting.

“tomorrow,” felix says, more to the contents of the box than to you. “tomorrow, we’re going to ruin you with these.”

“tomorrow?” both you and jisung whined together, and you exchanged a fist bump over the box as felix huffed at you.

and yet, with all of the impatient waiting you did in the past week (and jisung in the past day), tomorrow came sooner than you could catch up with. you were naked on the mattress before you could even blink, cunt clenching around nothing as you watched them lay out the materials that you had so meticulously picked out.

it might be a little too soon for an endeavor like this, it would be smarter to try out every toy first and make sure you were comfortable with all of them, but they’ve kept you waiting too long for this for you to think about being smart right now.

they lined the toys up at the foot of the bed, all washed and sanitized and ready for whatever filthy use they were going to be put through. there’s four of them, varying in size, girth and length, color, and vibrations and thrusting ability, and you’re already a bit overwhelmed just looking at them.

or rather, a lot overwhelmed.

they make eyes at each other over you, having some kind of silent conversation in the creepy way that they do. felix nods and moves to sit by your head, moving you around until your upper body was half in his lap. jisung, on the other hand, picks up the first toy and examines it, twisting it around in his hand.

“relax, baby,” felix’s voice rumbles through you, and you melt into him a bit when he runs his hand through your hair.

jisung’s eyes are fixated on your pussy now, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he imagines how wrecked you’re going to be once they’re done with you.

“jisung, come on,” you whine, wriggling a bit in felix’ lap.

“let me enjoy this,” he bites back, sending you a playful glare.

“i think i’m the one who’s supposed to be enjoying this,” you pout, relaxing back into place when felix tugs at a strand of your hair.

“oh trust me, you will,” felix’s voice grumbles from behind you, vibrations from it dousing your body just as jisung finally touches you. it’s not quite where you want, his hand is tracing up and down your thigh, but it’s something.

he takes his time mapping out your skin, planes of smooth flesh that he’s seen and felt and loved before, but never this slowly. never this reverently. it’s almost frustrating, but felix begins massaging your neck and shoulders and you’re too relaxed to provide any protest beyond a frustrated huff of breath as your eyes flutter closed.

“no, stay with us,” felix coaxes your eyes open, and you almost giggle at how funny he looks upside-down from where you’re laying. it feels like time is moving in slow-motion as jisung uncaps the lube and drizzles it on the toy, the smallest one you had chosen. it’s thin with a bulbous head, created specifically to hit right at your g-spot, a smooth metal with a lustrous purple finish. it’s beautiful, even more so when he runs the cool metal head up and down your folds, warming it up. when it gets to your hole you nearly swallow it up, the glide almost too easy from the lube and your wetness that’s been building since before you even took off your clothes.

“eager, are we?” jisung teases, and you just snarl back at him, too impatient to deal with being in a sarcastic argument with him right now. you usually love his playful banter during sex, but that’s when you’re in a mutual push and pull dynamic. right now the only thing you want him to push is the toy into you. “fine, i’ll give you what you want, but remember that you asked for it.”

all at once, he’s thrusting it in and out of you, twisting his hand just right so that it hits your spot every single time. it’s already almost too much, and you push up against felix to try and get away from the sudden onslaught. he just laughs, pinning you in place as jisung keeps going and going and going.

it only takes a few minutes for your orgasm to approach, expectantly fast with how keyed up you’ve been since you woke up. you’re just starting to come when — in one quick move — jisung removes the toy and replaces it with his fingers, crooking them up right where he knows you like it best, over and over. the change in pace makes everything so much more intense, and you can’t stop your body from arching off of the bed, your head pressed into felix’ thighs. it feels like minutes before you slump back onto the mattress, panting hard and twitching from aftershocks. he removes his fingers, holding them up so you and felix could see how slick they are from being inside of you. he sticks them in his mouth, sucking at them a bit like a lollipop, and lets out an appreciative noise at the taste. you hide your face into felix’ leg, embarrassed at his actions.

jisung doesn’t let you recover before grabbing the second toy, a bright pink vibrator complete with a thrusting head. he forgoes the lube this time, choosing to scoop up your wetness onto his fingertips and spread it across the toy instead. you whine when his fingers brush your clit, overly sensitive even though it hadn’t been touched yet. he settles the tip of it against your hole, rubbing at it in tiny circles.

“what a greedy fucking pussy,” jisung says, almost clinical in the way he looks at felix with an arched brow. like he’s not talking about a person. “just came and she’s already leaking for more.”

felix just hums, dark eyes fixed on the way your bottom lip is stuck between your teeth as jisung slides the second toy into you. it settles in perfectly, leaving you so comfortably full that you think you could fall asleep like this, especially after coming as hard as you just had.

“what did i tell you?” felix says, accentuating his words with another sharp tug to your hair. “stay with us, baby.”

“i’m - ah,” your breath leaves you as jisung flicks the vibrator on. even at it’s lowest setting, it sends pulses of pleasure swimming through you, and you feel hot all over. the heat intensifies when he pushes the toy just a little further into you and presses the button for the thrusting to start. it feels strange at first, the rubber head so different to jisung or felix’s cocks, but then he angles it upwards just so and there it is.

every time you clench down onto it you feel your toes and fingertips tingle with pleasure, little pricks of static taking over your limbs. jisung holds the base close to your entrance, keeping in place as it thrusts into you in a perfectly delicious rhythm.

“this one might be my favorite,” jisung says, and he sounds like he’s kneeling down to worship something rather than kneeling to absolutely wreck you. you try and reply, but your words get swallowed by a series of sounds that escape your throat. “felix, find a way to shut her up, will you?”

it’s almost comical the way jisung turns into a control freak when it came to sex; you weren’t complaining though, even when felix hooks his thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. jisung turns the vibrations up and you come for the second time, your eyes rolling so far back that you’re almost scared they’ll get stuck there. he keeps the toy there, letting you ride out your orgasm, and he only turns it off when you start to twitch with oversensitivity.

“is it my turn now?” felix takes his thumb out of your mouth and strokes his hand down your face, leaving a trail of your spit down your cheek. “i want a turn, you’re hogging her.”

“whiny baby,” jisung tuts, but he stands up from where he had been kneeling in front of you. he drops a kiss to your inner thigh before switching spots with felix, settling in behind you.

while felix had let your hands wander, clenching in and out of fists as you got more and more into it, jisung had no such notion to give you freedom. he immediately traps your wrists into one of his hands once he was sure your head was comfortable in his lap, and his other hand comes to rest at your collarbone. it’s possessive, the way his fingers curl up just a bit like he’s waiting for a reason to run his nails down your skin.

the third toy that felix picks up is a normal dildo, clear glass in a respectable size and length, and you’re almost glad for a little normalcy right now.

“should i eat you out first? make you come on my tongue before using this?” he asks, mouth so close to your clit that you could feel his breath hitting it. it made you shiver.

“if you do that i might not last,” you groan, trying to clamp your thighs shut but you were stopped by felix’s hands. “you’ll have to scrape my body off of the bed.”

“i’ll have to do that anyways when i’m through with you,” he teases, drawing back a bit. “but you’re right. i want to see your face when i ruin you, and it’s hard to do that from down there.”

the slide of the dildo entering you was almost undetectable after jisung had dealt with you, the only thing you could feel was the coolness of the glass and the fullness in your lower belly.

you sigh, letting your head fall back into jisung. maybe felix would go easy on you for the first one? you let your body relax so felix could push it all the way in.

you regretted that almost immediately though - felix, with all of his dancer’s grace and control, knows exactly what to do with his hands. knows how to twist his wrist just right, how to speed up and slow back down in perfect timing, and it doesn’t matter that it’s just a normal dildo because he isn’t a normal fucking person.

he alternated between an insanely fast and agonizingly slow rhythm, never letting you get used to one before switching to the other. every time you got close, he’d angle it just away from your spot, leaving you teetering on the edge of an orgasm over and over.

if jisung wasn’t holding you down you’d be thrashing against the sheets right now.

when felix finally let’s you come it’s with his mouth sucking at your clit and your body taught as a rope. it feels like hours before you come down, wave after wave of boiling pleasure burning through your veins, taking over your whole body.

“okay?” jisung asks as felix pulls the toy out of you, shushing you when you whine at the feeling.

“guh,” you let out, the most intelligent response you can offer him right now. he lets go of your wrists to intertwine his hands in yours, keeping you close but knowing that you needed the grounding.

the last toy was really for them. you know that they’re little freaks inside, and you couldn’t stop yourself from selecting it - a bright green and red silicone toy, shaped like a tentacle. it’s wide at the base, about the size of your fist, and that brings up another idea that you store in your head for later. the tip is tapered, and little faux suction cups line the entire surface of the toy. it isn’t too long, but god it’s thick.

felix picks up the bottle of lube and coats the thing generously, and you’re grateful for it. for how big it is, you weren’t sure if your body was capable of slicking it up without some help.

“can’t,” you stutter out when he places the tip at your entrance, teasing it inside of you. you wanted to move away but you couldn’t, jisung made sure of that.

“you can,” jisung coos at you, the first time he’s spoken since switching places with felix. “you know what to say it you really can’t. but i think you can, baby girl.”

he’s right. through all of this, your safeword hadn’t even breached through to your consciousness. you still wanted this, as insane as it was.

“fuck, you’re stretched out,” felix curses, pushing the toy into you. you can feel it all the way in your throat, even though it was only a little over halfway inside of you. god, was he going to try and get the whole thing in?

the answer was yes, he was. he twists his wrist, letting your body get used to the girth of the toy for a moment before pulling it out almost all the way. he slowly slides it back in, and the squelch of the suction cups dragging in and out makes you flush so hard you feel lightheaded.

jisung is breathing hard behind you, and you revel in how affected he is right now. you chose well, you did good.

you’ve never had something inside of you that felt like this; it wasn’t moving but you could imagine if it was, in the ways that tentacles did in the hentai jisung made you watch - you never understood the appeal until now. you wanted it to completely engulf you. you had almost forgotten that it was attached to felix’s hand until he started pumping it in and out of you, absolutely obscene sounds filling the room from both it and your own mouth.

when you come for the last time it’s a fragile thing, slow rolls of heat washing over you, less intense but no less pleasurable. you feel floaty even felix removes the toy carefully, dumping it on the floor and pressing a flutter of kisses to your thighs. your head is sailing through the clouds just as your body feels weightless, the only thing keeping you tethered to the bed being their hands on you.

“let’s get her cleaned up,” jisung says, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“no, ‘m not done,” you mumble, half into jisung’s arm where your mouth is now squished. there’s a line of drool running from your lips down his skin, but you’re too exhausted to care about something that would normally send you into a fit of embarrassment.

“oh, she’s out,” felix sounds almost in awe, like he can’t believe the state the two of them had pushed you towards. that he couldn’t believe that, even though you couldn’t move a single limb in your body, you were still asking for more. felix reaches to the nightstand where he had placed a cool water bottle with a straw peeking out, and he holds it up to your mouth so you can suck small sips. the water feels heavenly, soothing your parched throat perfectly. did he put magic in this water? it sure feels like he did.

you didn’t realize that you were talking out loud until they laugh, the sound of it sending happiness throughout your entire body. you made them happy.

“hi baby,” felix materializes at your side, cradling your face in his hands so you are looking at him instead of the ceiling. “bath or washcloth?”

“can’t move,” you replied, hoping he’d understand. when he comes back with a washcloth and starts cleaning you up, you know he did. he knows you so well.

you let out a series of whines when he cleans around your pussy, the burn of overstimulation bordering on painful now. jisung soothes you with a kiss for each one, his hands still intertwined with yours.

you fall asleep before felix finishes, and you miss the way they both look at you with nothing but adoration in their eyes.

—

kinktober masterlist

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #lee felix smut #felix smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #lee felix x y/n #han jisung x reader

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seiwas · 5 months

Text

₊˚⊹｡ keep this drive to just us two | fushiguro megumi

wc: 2.7k

summary: megumi is a liar, but there’s a reason for all this.

contains: f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, college!megumi, pre-relationship stuff, feelings, some swear words

a/n: happy birthday to our boy ♡ set in the same universe as this megumi fic (so a ~kind of part 2); some songs that inspired this & ones i imagine playing in the car: the shining by the neighbourhood, paradise by chase atlantic, & over the moon by the marías

part 1 <- you are here

It’s just you and Megumi on a late night drive—a quarter past 11 p.m.

The passenger seat has long since been adjusted to you, his car a somewhat second home. There’s that characteristic reverb accompanying the deep bass of the music he listens to, and his knee is bobbing to the beat of it, like it always does when the music is good.

Megumi’s car always smells of mint, a fresh, crisp scent that cuts through—an accurate depiction of the man: level-headed, cool. A sharp honesty exists in every word he speaks; it’s the only way he knows how to be.

Except, maybe, lately. Like this moment.

Megumi’s a liar right now.

He feels a little guilty for it, tricking you into coming out tonight. But how bad can it be to invite you under the guise of it being from Yuuji?

“Yuuji said he’ll meet us there?” you settle into your seat, dragging the seatbelt across your body before locking it into place.

Megumi shifts the gear to drive, nodding as he turns the wheel to get out of the parking lane. He can’t trust himself to speak.

The ride is quiet save for the music, a comfortable silence he seems to only have with you. Nobara and Yuuji like to talk, to fill in the empty pockets of air he never feels the need to. You—you adjust, read the room; you become what the situation calls for all on your own.

That’s what he likes about you, among many other things—he’s stopped lying to himself about that, at least.

The streets whiz past you in a blur, both vaguely familiar and unrecognizable. There’s a fast food joint your group of four frequents as a post-party drive-thru, and the holiday lights are strung up on lampposts lining the sidewalks.

Yellows, reds, and greens melt into one another as the backdrop of your window. But all Megumi sees is gray—

When he dislodges his phone from the stand clipped to the AC vents at the center console, handing it over so you can control the music. His eyes stay locked on the road until he feels it, the slightest brush of your fingers against his.

He turns to you, a quick glance; you’d shrugged off your puffer jacket some time during the drive and tossed it to the backseat, leaving you in this right now.

—the gray sweater that he knows all too well; that you haven’t returned but you wear like it’s yours, as if this piece of him is something you’ve chosen to keep.

It looks better on you, anyway, he thinks.

He turns back to the road, breathing a little quicker, grip tighter and knuckles a bit whiter.

If he listens carefully, the comfortable silence between you hasn’t actually been all that silent lately. A constant beat’s been drumming in his ears, exacerbated only every time you’re near. You’ve locked eyes far too often for two people sitting in a car, driving from point A to point B, and this isn’t the first time your fingers have brushed, nor is it the second, or third (or even fourth if he’s thinking about the technicalities).

He finds himself smiling too easily when you speak, the corners of his lips aching by the time he’s dropped you off on the way home. You’ve looked at him fondly too, a handful of times, when you think he won’t notice; but it’s impossible not to when he’s paying just as much attention—from the corner of his eye, in his periphery. A responsible side-glance that inconspicuously catches everything.

There’s something between you two, and he’s grown more confident of that the more he’s accepted his fate:

He likes you.

It’s why he called you tonight, out of all nights, in the first place.

Aimless driving can only be so convincing up to a certain point, and that point comes fast approaching as Megumi is about to pass the same street for the third time. You don’t notice because you’re queueing songs on his phone, but he has to think of a diversion—just something to tide him over past midnight.

“I’ll get us some snacks,” he signals to the left, pulling over to a 7-Eleven.

“Oh!” you look up from his phone, swapping it for yours, “I’ll ask Yuuji if he wants anything. Did he mention if Nobara’s coming?”

Megumi freezes, panic setting in—if you message Yuuji now, you’ll realize that he’s been lying. He holds his breath, shifting the gear to park before pulling at the edges of his sleeves.

Think.

“He’ll eat anything, it’s fine. Nobara probably won’t come too. Wouldn’t pick up when he called.”

For someone who always puts things bluntly, he’s surprisingly good at coming up with lies right now.

You hum, nodding, “Okay. Do you want me to go down?”

“I’ll be quick,” he shakes his head, fishing around the center console for his wallet, “you want anything?”

Then he looks at you, your head tilted to the side as you think. A little pout causes your lips to jut out and he can’t help it, how his eyes fall to them, shiny in the way only your lip balm can make them.

“Maybe something warm?”

Your voice snaps him out of it, but the moment is frozen—like he’s been caught red-handed. He’s so sure you saw him staring, your eyebrows shooting up, flustered while watching his gaze shift from your lips to your eyes.

He doesn’t expect it when you do the same thing.

It’s freezing outside and his lips feel chapped; he wonders if they’re cracked, if you’re studying the grooves of split skin—if he should buy lip balm by the counter, on the way out.

He looks away, clearing his throat, one hand to the door handle.

“Okay,” he opens it, “turn up the heat if you’re–”

You nod.

“Yeah, okay.”

He steps out.

The cold is biting as he tucks his hands inside his pockets, rushing to get into the convenience store.

(You watch his back retreat from the window of his carseat, and the influx of cool air should make you shiver, but you feel warm, heat rushing to your cheeks.

This whole night has been confusing; the subtle touches and lingering gazes—ones like just moments ago, especially. Being alone with Megumi lately has been both comfortable and nerve-wracking; you have feelings that you aren’t quite sure are reciprocated, no matter how much Nobara teases the both of you already.

You can’t take it; you need a buffer—where is Yuuji?

11:41 p.m.

< are you otw already? we just went to grab some snacks

You wait, fingers tapping on the back of your phone.

11:42 p.m.

yuuji 🍡

> huh?

> otw where?

> who’s we?

> i’m outside fushiguro’s rn! with gojo-sensei!! apparently he surprises him every bday…

> you should come! you live near right?

You scrunch your eyebrows, confused. There are too many thoughts in your head right now—has Megumi been lying?

11:43 p.m.

< oh ok, i probs misunderstood!!

< and i’m out tonight, idt i can make it but lmk how it goes!!

You’ve never known Megumi to be a liar, but he’s definitely in it right now for some questioning.)

The 7-Eleven doors swing open, revealing Megumi with his shoulders shrugged up to his ears, hands deep inside his pockets as a plastic bag hangs around his wrist. He opens the car door, immediately settling in his seat before shutting it.

He still won’t meet your eyes, fishing through the random snacks he bought instead. It’s awkward, the air in the car tense; and it takes the biggest guts in him to look up as he hands over the warm bottle of tea he got you, just like you wanted.

It’s even worse when you’re staring right back, expecting—almost like you’re about to confront him.

“Be honest,” you start, eyes squinting.

Shit. Sweat forms at his palms as he blinks, the beat drumming in his ears intensifying.

“Did you bring me out here to murder me?”

He raises an eyebrow, expecting you to convict him for lying, “The fu–”

Which you do, bringing your phone up so he can read. Your text chain with Yuuji casts a white light over his face, his eyes darting from side-to-side as he scans each message.

(You aren’t mad or anything, just even more confused than you already are; some clarity would be nice, once and for all.

Embarrassment is painted on his face the more he reads through your phone screen, lashes entirely too long as it bats against the tip of his cheeks; a faint pink blooms on his skin, like winter peonies.)

There’s a reason for all this.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath; he’s dreading having to open them—do you think he’s weird now? That he had some ulterior motive bringing you out? His jaw clenches at the thought—

But then you laugh, a soft chuckle that accompanies the ‘click’ of your phone turning off. And when he takes a peek, squints one eye to catch a glimpse, you’re smiling; your lips are pressed together with the corners curled up slightly, as if you find this entire thing funny.

The tension dissipates, but he frowns, eyebrows scrunching as he considers whether he wants to be the reason for whatever it is you’re thinking.

“Stop it. Don’t make fun of me.” his head turns to the side.

You chuckle again, biting your bottom lip, “You’re just too cute.”

A beat.

(It slips out before you can catch yourself, heat rising to your cheeks. Megumi isn’t doing any better; his ears are flushed red, crawling down to the sides of his neck as he swallows.)

The plastic bag crinkles on his lap, cutting through the silence.

How can you just… say that?

You clear your throat, “So, uh, did you know about the surprise?”

(Your eyes shift to the corner of the infotainment system, 11:52 p.m. in white.)

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he leans back on his seat.

“Gojo-sensei tries to surprise me every year, I didn’t think he’d call Itadori this time.”

“You sound like that’s a bad thing…” you tilt your head, curious.

He pauses, staring ahead as he considers his response, “Not bad… just,” his fingers fiddle with the plastic bag, “too loud, sometimes.”

(Megumi’s mentioned a bit about this ‘Gojo-sensei’ guy, his kind-of-mentor slash benefactor since being orphaned with his step-sister at age 6. You’ve never met him, but Yuuji never stops talking about how fun he is, how cool.

It makes sense why Megumi finds him a bit much, if anything.)

“And you think I’m any better?” you snort offhandedly, joking as you turn to the side, facing him.

He tilts his head towards you, leaning back on the headrest; your eyes lock for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting subtly before he looks away, straight ahead again.

If he had the courage, he’d tell you that you’re the only company he wants to spend this birthday with—

That there are songs in his playlist he’d otherwise never listen to, but repeats and repeats and repeats because it reminds him of you;

That he looks forward to doing deep cleans on his car every weekend, but has started to dread it once he noticed that it washes away your scent from the Fridays that he drops you home;

That he’s a liar because he really likes you, but can’t find the words to tell you.

So he doesn’t say anything, shrugging.

The silence is telling.

(You feel too warm, whether from the heating system or from the implications of this moment. The 11:58 p.m. on the clock adds a pressure that it shouldn’t, an almost taunting presence that tells you if you act now, tomorrow could be very different.

Are you reading the signs right?

Should you just say it?

Each second drags on twice as long, and you think—

Fuck it.)

“Megumi?” your voice breaks through softly.

The plastic crinkles on his lap as he turns to you.

He could be any other place right now.

But he’s chosen to be here, with you, parked outside a 7-Eleven, minutes before midnight.

“If I tell you something, will you be honest with me?”

He blinks before humming, nodding. This is the least he can do after today’s blatant lying.

There’s an intensity to your gaze that makes him nervous; your fingers tug at the edges of his (your) gray sweater, a piece of him you’ve taken with you. Then you speak—

“I like you,” you say it plainly, unblinking, “and I need you to tell me if you don’t feel the same.”

—and you take the rest of him too.

12:01 a.m.

He stares at you, turning the confession over and over in his head. He’s always had a feeling but it’s different when it’s out in the open, when it’s from you and isn’t based on some gut-feeling.

There are so many things he can say, but you did ask him to be honest—to tell you if he didn’t feel the same.

“Do I stay quiet if I do?” he mumbles, cheeks deepening into red.

There’s a smile he’s trying to hide, one he won’t allow himself to let out until he gets one from you too.

You visibly relax, releasing the breath you were holding. Your lips curl up instinctively, wide and infectious—that feeling of your heart bursting.

“Smartass,” you scrunch your nose before glancing at the time, “happy birthday.”

When you look at him this fondly, there’s not much else he can ask for, really.

You eat the snacks in his car (an exception—whether it’s because of you or his birthday, you’re not sure) and tell him that your actual gift is back home, sitting in dog-patterned wrapping paper by your entryway.

The drive back is, for the most part, the same—lingering gazes when the stoplight permits, a brush of your fingers when you hand him his phone after queueing songs. You’re wearing his sweater and his car still smells like mint.

But you both can’t stop smiling.

And when he drops you off, he’s tempted to tell you to stay longer for just one more song, but he figures there’s lots of time for that now. So instead, he grabs your puffer from the back, gets down and rushes over to open your door, helping you out.

He holds up your jacket as you slip your arms into it, zipping it up so you stay warm and toasty. Cute, he thinks, when your grin reaches your cheeks; he could pinch them, would you complain if his fingers are too chilly?

Your hesitance is evident in the way you bite your lip, but you go for it anyway, diving in to land a soft kiss to his cheek. It happens so quickly, it barely registers to him—the touch of your lips to his skin. When you pull away, you look shy.

He doesn’t say anything, heat rushing to the place you’d kissed. You take this as a sign to go ahead, so you move, but he can’t—

—can’t let you go just like this.

Not when he’s been thinking about those lips since he last laid his eyes on it.

It’s reflex, the way he grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him. He lets go immediately, hovering, but his eyes drop dangerously, down to your lips—shiny and plump from the lip balm he knows you carry.

His breathing quickens and he asks so softly, “Can…”, he gulps, nervous, “Can I?”

You nod, humming.

(When Megumi leans in, long lashes fluttering over your eyelids, you think, this can’t possibly be real. But then his lips slide over yours, cold but not cracked, and you move yours against them, gentle in the same way he is.

His fingers slot themselves at the edge of your jaw, palm pressed to your cheek; it makes you shiver, how cool it is, but it warms up quickly.)

The kiss is over far too soon (you think so, too), and when you part, you’re beaming, a twinkle in your eyes that makes him want to kiss you again, if only to keep them shining the way they do.

It’s the end of the night, but the beginning of something new and Megumi’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the noise; this constant beat drumming in his ear is all he can hear now, swiping his tongue over his lips to taste mint—your lip balm of choice.

thank you note: to everyone who was just as excited abt this as i was—@soumies @mysugu @augustinewrites @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @selarina @pastelle-rabbit @mymegumi @kagelun @irisintheafterglow & @shidouryusm for making me see that paradise is so megumi 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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turquoisenintendo64 · 19 days

Text

Love Comes to Everyone !

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂

in which: a daughter of aphrodite is camp half-blood’s matchmaker, but can’t seem to find someone for herself.

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite!reader

part 1

warnings: use of y/n, there is no such thing as forbidden children, percy has a little half-sister, pipabeth implied

a/n: part 2 of love comes to everyone!! this took me less than i thought. i’m so happy the part 1 got so much love <33

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂

you and percy were watching mary from afar, sitting on a tree branch, as she was playing with two apollo kids.

she hadn’t been claimed yet, what saddened you.

“have you eaten a whole lemon before?” percy asked, gaze fixed in mary.

“too sour,” you answered. “… have you?”

“it’s good,” he chuckled.

one of the apollo kids that were playing with mary approached you.

“i don’t think she’s a daughter of apollo,” she said, showing you four broken bows. “and she sings terrible.”

“well, we’ve tried everything,” he got up. “i surrender.”

you grabbed him by the shirt.

“we’re not leaving her until she gets claimed,” you said. “understood?”

he sighed, then grinned. “yes ma’am.”

you held mary’s hand, and led her to the dining pavilion.

“can i eat with you?” she asked, looking up at you and percy.

you shared a look.

“you have to eat at-“

“sure,” percy cut you off, “we’ll sit at my table, i’m the only one in it anyway.” he said, looking at you.

you explained offerings to mary, and after her many questions of why gods could possibly like the smell of burnt mac and cheese, she decided to give up her strawberries.

mary asked percy about his parents, and you noticed how he talked a lot about his mom and just a bit about his dad, even though mary was asking about poseidon all the time.

you went back to your cabin, finding annabeth and piper cuddling in piper’s bed while they talked in whispers. they told you they were going to have a picnic, if you wanted to go with them.

but you were not in the mood to third wheel your sister and her girlfriend, so you declined the offer. in addition, you had promised percy to accompany him while he showed mary around the beach.

you picked a blue dress and took a shower.

you blow dried your hair and asked one of your sisters to fish-braid your hair, and got frustrated when it didn’t look how you wanted. when it finally looked good for you, she helped you do your make up. natural, you didn’t want to seem desperate.

when you were all done you took a minute to think why were you trying so hard to look really good if you were just going to the beach with a little girl and a friend. right?

and to think that you subconsciously wore blue because you know percy’s favourite colour is blue.

you still denied having feelings for him, though. thinking, or rather, knowing he could have anyone much better than you.

but you couldn't help thinking he meant himself when he told you the one for you was closer than you thought. no, no chance.

you couldn't ask him, obviously not, he would probably laugh in your face and tell you you were deluded.

but everything with him felt so intimate, for some reason. you have been hanging out much more since mary arrived to camp, as she refused to be with anyone else that wasn’t you both. every glance, laugh, hug or smile felt way more intimate than it actually was, and you could not bare it.

so you did the cowardly thing, you avoided him.

you stopped talking to him completely, walking the other way when he was coming in your direction. this led you to not spend time with mary, too, since she was with percy all the time.

you didn’t want to be far from them, though. you felt really close with both of them. and you lost track of the moment when you stopped being with mary because you had to and started being with her because you wanted to.

you loved mary. she was the sweetest girl you have ever met, and you wanted to be around her all the time and be part of her life at camp half-blood. but she reminded you too much of percy.

but your unstoppable feelings went worse when piper told you the three of you looked like a happy family.

so you convinced yourself that’s how it had to be. away from them, so you wouldn’t fall in love with someone who was with you for duty and not want.

“y/n,” piper called, opening the bathroom door, where you were brushing your hair. “mary’s at the door, asking for you.”

you frowned slightly and headed to the door. you haven’t talked to mary in weeks, yet she still smiled at you as bright as ever.

“hi y/n!” she waved effusively, and her poorly done pigtails shook.

“hi mary,” you smiled sweetly at her, guilt consuming your head suddenly.

“i’ve missed you, where have you been?” she asked, and even more guilt flooded in.

she was just a little girl, leaving her without explanation was wrong.

but you still thought it was the best.

“i was busy, sorry. come in.” you stepped aside and she walked in, rather jumping than walking.

“can you do my hair? percy’s terrible at it, he can’t even do pigtails!” she pointed to her head.

“pigtails are the easiest thing ever, but he has short and always-perfect hair, so he doesn’t need to care about hairstyles,” you said.

you entered the bathroom again, and she entered before you.

you sat crisscrossed in the floor and she mirrored your action, sitting in front of you. you undid her pigtails and brushed her hair gently.

“you’re right, he’s just a boy,” she said matter-of-factly. you snorted.

“do you want pigtails or braids?”

“pigtails. percy has missed you too, by the way.”

you paused some seconds to process it, blinked a few times and continued brushing her hair.

“is that so?”

“yes. he was always expecting you to come with us, and was really sad when you never showed up.”

now you felt even more guilty. you knew they would get upset with your sudden disappearance, but hearing it directly was different.

“i’m sorry, i was busy with… things. thoughts,” you explained.

“don’t worry, it was fun with percy. he gave me one of his plushies, a dolphin. he told me dolphins are actually evil, but i think they are cute. he also gave me a magazine about sea animals,” she told you, excited. “i love sea animals, and percy knows a lot about them.”

“did you know percy can talk with them?” you said.

“yes! he told me. i had a fish, his name was robert. he always talked to me about his wife he left in the sea. i felt guilty and took him to the beach and-“

“you understood your fish? like you knew what he was saying?”

“yes. but percy does too, isn’t that normal?”

you did her pigtails quickly and rushed out of your cabin.

even though you were literally ignoring him and have been doing that for weeks, you ran to percy.

“percy,” you called.

he turned around, and his bright smile dropped, turning into a surprised look.

“y/n? where have you been? i haven’t seen you in-“

“mary is your sister,” you blurted out.

“what?”

“she’s a daughter of poseidon.”

he frowned.

“how do you know that? why do you appear suddenly and say something like that?”

you sighed. “she had a fish. robert. she could understand the fish, percy.”

he seemed too stunned to say anything. you didn’t know if it was for what you just say, or the bottled up anger he had towards you in that very moment.

in your staring-in-silence moment, you heard splashes of water. but it wasn’t until you heard gasps that you went to see what it was.

mary was fighting with a boy, visibly older than her, in the lake. she went to push him, but a wave of water took him down.

percy was going to get her, but you stopped him.

“wait,” you told him, with your hand resting in his chest. he tensed at your touch.

she looked scared, you wanted to go with her too. but you knew what could come next.

and you were right.

a huge, glowing trident appeared on top of her head, and everyone bowed.

mary now looked even more scared, and she ran towards you and percy.

“what is that?” she asked. the symbol faded, and she hugged you two tightly.

“you have been claimed,” percy told her. “by poseidon.” he smiled at her.

she looked up at him, with teary eyes.

“does that mean you are my brother?” she asked, joy suddenly turning her before sad eyes happy.

“yes,” he said, chuckling.

“mary wheeler,” you heard chiron say. he smiled warmly at her. “daughter of poseidon.”

“it fits,” you said, caressing her back.

“now we are going to be roommates, and we can share all of my plushies and magazines.” mary let out a laugh that melted your heart.

percy looked at you, smiling softly. you felt guilty again, for leaving them. but now you were together again.

you thought about your growing feelings, and if it was a good idea to speak about them. not in that moment, definitely.

you felt like you had to tell him whatever was going through your head, and maybe he would understand how stupidly you had acted. so you told him to meet you at the time of the campfire, so no one could bother you.

you found yourself stressing over looking good again, and wearing blue.

you heard piper snorting. she was leaning against the bathroom door as you were doing your makeup.

“what now?” you said.

“nothing,” and she walked away.

you rolled your eyes.

that’s too much blush. now i look like i just died. wrong shade. that was your train of thought as you got ready.

since when was having a crush so difficult?

you walked out the bathroom. everyone was already at the campfire, so your cabin was empty. you saw percy outside of your cabin, and suddenly you had the urge to change the jeans you were wearing, but it was too late.

you opened the door and smiled at percy.

“hey,” you greeted.

“hi,” he said back. he looked a bit sad, yet he was smiling.

you were grinning now, your cheeks almost hurting. gosh, you were absolutely nervous right now.

you closed the door and sat down at the stairs of the porch.

you stayed in silence for what felt like hours, none of you brave enough to break it. you had the feeling that he was just as nervous as you.

“what happened? why did you avoid me?” he asked, looking at you. he looked like a sad puppy.

“nothing. i didn’t mean to upset you, really, i was busy and confused with…” you paused, “something.”

“you could’ve talked to me. we’re friends, you can trust me,” he said, and you gave him a lopsided smile.

“i know, i know. i’m so sorry, i really am,” you said avoiding his gaze. your cheeks started to turn red and your words to trip. “i could not tell you what was happening. it was… it is difficult to say and…” you groaned.

he was still looking at you, patient. waiting for you to come up with something. something that could answer everything he has been questioning.

his green eyes were deep, deeper now than ever. the chill night breeze was brushing through his hair, and yours.

he was looking at your hair, and how beautiful it looked. how beautiful you looked. in the nightlight, you looked like you were glowing, natural spark emanating from you.

your flushed cheeks were even more bright. percy felt the need to hold your face and caress it. to touch you, hold you, kiss you.

he just wanted to be as close as possible to you, and not let you go away ever again.

“i’ve been feeling kind of weird lately,” you started.

he nodded.

“but not in a bad way, i think. i feel weird when i’m around you, i feel so nervous and anxious. i have a strange feeling in my when i think about you, as if someone was holding my heart.”

he suppressed a smile. but to you, it looked like he was disgusted with your words.

“what i mean is… i think i like you, percy. no, not like you. i think i’m falling in love with you, and that’s scary. super scary. i’ve been thinking for so long that maybe you like me too. remember that time when you told me love takes time? and maybe the one for me was closer than i thought? well, i couldn’t stop thinking that maybe you meant the one for me was you, but that doesn’t make sense and… i’m so sorry,” you finished. you hid your face in your knees and heard him laughing.

oh.

oh no.

he was laughing.

he was laughing at you.

this was the moment when he tells you ‘you have been being delusional this whole time!’ and leaves you alone. this was it, the end of the world.

oh holy aphrodite, if you are hearing me, please-

“i’m in love with you too.”

“i knew you would say that and- wait,” you looked at him.

his smile was as bright and big as the sun, and his cheeks were flushed, just like yours.

“you are?” you asked.

“i’ve always been. i really thought i was pretty obvious but… apparently everyone knew except you.”

you took a moment to stare at him a little longer. maybe now it was more appropriate, considering he was doing the same thing.

“you are gorgeous. it makes me kind of mad,” you told him. a laugh slipped from his lips, and you felt the need to kiss him until you were out of breath.

“well, you are beautiful,” he responded.

just now you realised how close he was. his eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, and he didn’t let you much time to react when he leaned in to kiss you.

you kissed him back, caressing the back of his neck.

his hands traveled to your hips and he pulled you closer. you felt him smile in the kiss.

the kiss shifted from sweet to more passionate. his hands were all over you, touching you like he feared you would disappear.

you pulled away, he followed your lips as you separated.

“your chapstick tastes good,” he joked. you chuckled softly.

“it’s blueberry,” you told him.

“wear it more, i like it,” he stroked your hand.

you smiled at him lovingly.

you loved him, and he loved you too. finally someone loved you too.

you’ve spent your whole life waiting for your turn to be loved, and now he was in front of you.

you were glad it was percy. it couldn’t be anyone but him.

annabeth and piper were hiding behind a tree, looking at you.

“great,” piper said. “now we owe mary five bucks.”

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #aphrodite #cabin 10 #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson one shot #percy jackson fic

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lnlightning81 · 29 days

Text

Panic - Part Four

Series Title : Younger Sister

Summary : Carlos is out ill and while Lando worries about him Ollie appears at your hotel room stressing because he now has to race

Pairing/s : Oliver Bearman x Norris!Reader

Word Count : 2.1k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Oliver Bearman Masterlist

Lando Norris Masterlist

It had been a couple of months since the British Grand Prix, and it was now the Hungary Grand Prix. Staying in a hotel room with Lando had become normal, and you stopped bothering about it because, actually, it was nice. Having someone to talk to at all times but also knew that quiet was a good thing. Not only that, but both you and Lando had the same energy levels, which meant there was always something chaotic going on in that room.

Lando had left a little early so that he could go to the gym before coming back to get you before finally going to the paddock so you were sat scrolling on social media waiting for Lando to get back when there was a knock on the door making you wander over to it as whoever was waiting on the other side kept knocking. Looking through the peephole, Ollie was standing on the other side, so obviously, you opened the door

“Ollie are you okay?” You asked, looking him up and down for any visible injuries as he walked past you into the hotel room, obviously finding it extremely hard to stay still

“My parents' flight is delayed. I flew out with Ferrari cause I can but it’s delayed and I’m racing and there’s no one in the garage for me and I don’t know what to do cause its my first ever F1 race and I’ve only ever done practice and help” He rushed out and you looked at him taking everything in that he’d previously just flew at you

“Y/N say something” He whispered, rubbing his face as he paced the room

“Your parent’s flights are delayed, well that’s okay cause they’ll be here. Flights get delayed all the time. You race all the time without your parents there you qualified on pole yesterday” You rubbed his arm, looking up at him. Why did he have to be so tall? It made comforting him so much harder.

“Yeah but that’s F2 Y/N. This is F1” He whispered, and you looked up at him

“Wait what? You’re racing in Formula One?” You exclaimed, taking a step back as he nodded “Okay well today's practice and quali. Wait who’s out?” You asked, confused

“Carlos. Something about his appendix. He hadn’t been well all week” He explained, and you nodded

“I’ve never raced in his car, and I’ve never raced with his wheel, and I don’t know what to do Y/N” He whispered, and you wrapped your arms around him

“Well lucky for you, my brother just so happens to be a Formula One driver on the weekends” you joked, and he laughed. You smiled up at him.

“I’ll come stand in the Ferrari garage, Ollie. Please don’t worry about it. The more you worry about it, the more you stress, which leads to bad racing and crashes. Ollie, they have so many drivers they could have put you in that seat, but they picked you, which means they trust you, so you need to enjoy the fact that you’re racing in Formula One!” You smiled, and he nodded

“I’m racing in Formula One” He mumbled and you smiled watching him now enjoy the fact that he’s actually racing and he’s reached his dream even if it’s not the way he wanted to. Ollie hugged you back with a smile

“What’s going on here?” Lando’s voice came as you turned to look at him

“Ollie’s racing in Formula One” you cheered, bouncing over to Lando, who caught you very much used to the energy you have

“Hey, that's a great man. You’ll do great, just remember to breathe because I forgot to do that the first time” Lando chuckled, placing you back on the ground

“I’m gonna go shower, then we can get to the paddock” Lando walked into the bathroom, and you hugged Ollie again

“You should go get ready for the day, but if you want me there, then just give me a text, okay?” You smiled, and he nodded

“Thank you for that. I needed someone to rationalise my thoughts” You nodded, holding his hand

“Don’t worry about it. If you’ve not already had a shower today, then go take a nice cold one, drink a bottle of water, and remember to enjoy yourself” You smiled, and he nodded, walking over to the door. You followed behind him with a smile

“You’re great at the calming down thing” He smiled, and you chuckled

“I do my best” Ollie walked back to his hotel room as you sat on the bed on your phone, going back to waiting on Lando. When Lando finally walked out the bathroom dressed in his Mclaren uniform, you jumped over to him with a smile

“You’re so happy today? What have I missed?” He asked, confused

“Can’t I be happy?” You asked following him out of the hotel room

“You’re normally hyper, but you seem more hyper than normal” he shrugged

“Maybe I’m a little happy that Ollie is racing today” You shrugged

“You like him” He teased poking you in the side

“He’s just a friend” You shrugged

“We’re the same age it’s nice to hang out with someone my own age while following you about the world”

“Mhm whatever you say. I like him, by the way” He shrugged, pressing the button in the elevator, leaning against the bannister in the elevator as it moved

“I’m glad you like him” You rolled your eyes, stepping out the elevator and following him out to the Mclaren car awaiting his arrival. Oscar already sat inside, waiting for you both. Getting in the car, Lando forced you to sit in the middle of them, so with a huff, you complied.

“Y/N has a boyfriend” Lando hummed, wiggling his eyebrows

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends” you whined, shoving him away

“Ohh who?” Oscar asked

“Ollie. He showed up at our room this morning” Lando hummed

“He showed up because his parents were in England, and Ferrari just called him up” You rolled your eyes

“Wait, who's not racing, by the way?” Lando asked

“Carlos. Something to do with his appendix” you shrugged, and Lando instantly pulled his phone out of his pocket, panicking.

“Oh forgot about your boyfriend” You rolled his eyes, and he ignored your comment as Oscar laughed.

Standing in the Ferrari garage felt wrong. Surrounded by red instead of papaya, but it was for Ollie, who was pacing about the place stressed before FP3. Everyone’s eyes were on him after the announcement that he was now driving. Ollie had taken to pacing three small steps slightly in front of you as he spoke to some members of the team.

Walking over to him gently wrapping your arms around his waist as your cheek rested against his back he tensed up for a second before his hands rested on top of yours and he relaxed now standing in the one place as he spoke to the team member causing you to smile that he was no longer burning a hole in the floor.

You missed the cameras outside as you kept your arms around Ollie’s waist, but you certainly didn’t miss your phone exploding in your pocket. Charles smiled at you as he walked past back to his driver's room.

“Hey why don’t you go into the drivers room and relax Ollie” one of the trainers said, joining the small group as Ollie nodded, taking you to the drivers room with him. Sitting on the small beanbag, you smiled at him.

“You didn’t have to do that” He sat next to you, and you shrugged

“You were burning a hole in the floor, and I know that you don’t make enough to pay for that” you joked, and he chuckled.

“Thank you, though. I’m so stressed about today” You smiled softly, turning to him

“I’ll make a deal with you” you hummed, and he nodded

“Okay?” He frowned

“If you get P15 or above in Quali I’ll go on a date with you. If you get P10 or above in the actual race, then I’ll go on two” You hummed, and he turned to you

“Can I change that deal?” He asked, and you nodded slightly

“Depends on what you want to change it to” You hummed

“P15 or above in Quali a date tonight. P10 or above in the race and you become my girlfriend” You quickly turned to look at him

“What?” You asked, confused. It wasn’t that you didn’t find yourself attractive or other people didn't. It was just that you’d never had a proper boyfriend before. Just teenage boys who wanted to one up their friends in their relationships.

“Well obviously if I get that high, then I’ll ask you properly and take you on that second date, but obviously, if you don’t want to agree to my deal, then that’s okay. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to and I’d hate for you to feel uncomfortable while you’re here making me feel like I’ve been racing in Formula one forever” He blurted going off on whatever he was saying with. Gently placing a hand on the side of his face to pull him back into the drivers room, he looked at you.

“Olls. Please take a deep breath with me. I’d love to agree to your deal. I just didn’t want you to feel like I was forcing you into anything and we all know that I’m not just with you for money or anything like that cause that’s what older brothers are for” You joked and he chuckled

“Well I guess I’ll be taking you on a couple of dates then” He hummed, and you chuckled

“Cocky much” you joked, and he smiled

“I’ll see you after FP3, right?” He asked, and you nodded

“Of course you will and after FP3. We’re going to get lunch together” You smiled, and he walked out of the drivers room after pressing a kiss to your head. Finally checking your phone just to see a billion texts.

Before you knew it, you were watching Quali, and it was the most stressful thing you’d ever watched. Not only was your older brother racing, but Ollie was doing his first ever F1 race and Quali. Ollie’s dad had arrived at the garage just as Ollie went out for Q1, so now he was standing next to you.

David was stressing more than Ollie was this morning. Ollie got slightly close to the wall just as the cameras turned into the Ferrari garage catching David's face as it happened although you were just as stressed except you had a lot more practice at hiding it after watching races with people from school. David, on the other hand, was new to close family members racing in formula one.

Ollie got himself through Q1 in P9 and into Q2. David walked over to Ollie’s car to say that he was here and to just focus on the race. You could see Oliver’s eyes as he pushed the visor on his helmet up. The stress that previously showed was no longer there. He looked like a kid in a sweet shop, and you couldn’t be prouder.

Q2 started, and David took his place standing at the back next to you. The fifteen minutes of Q2 was soon over and Ollie was unfortunately knocked out in P11 but he was a few hundredths of a second away from knocking Sir Lewis Hamilton out of qualifying that was something to be proud of.

Racing drivers had this thing where even when they drove exceptionally well they’d still beat themselves up even if there was nothing else they could have done and you knew by the look in Oliver’s eyes he was going to do exactly that except you now had practice and a deal you could cheer him up with.

You smiled, giving Ollie a hug as he walked over after he got out of the car. He was sweaty, but it made you happy to see the happiness on his face. Like seeing Lando doing something he loved.

“You did so well, Olls. You almost knocked Hamilton out. If you had another flying lap, you would have!” You exclaimed, and he smiled

“You should go along to Mclaren while I do post Quali interviews. I know Lando would love to have you there, and Max is here today isn’t he?” He asked, and you nodded

“The whole of Quadrant is here today. Something about Hungary being a good place for a new video? I don’t know. They tried to get me in it, but I refused” You chuckled, and he smiled

“Be ready for seven?” He asked, and you nodded

“You know where my room is” You walked along to the Mclaren garage with a smile hugging Max as you stood in hospitality with him and the rest of Quadrant. Ria smiled at you as everyone else was far too focused on Q3 that had just started.

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wonderlandrry · 2 months

Text

hi, this is my first ever attempt at writing on tumblr!! the story could be more than one part if you like it (maybe three or four parts). this is also my first time not writing in first person pov so hopefully it doesn’t suck complete ass. (not really edited and idk how to format either so GREAT first impression, friends.)

pov: best friend! harry x you (aka i tried my best lmao)

blurb: you and harry have been best friends your whole life and one night changes everything.

contains: friends to lovers, bad girl x good boy if you squint, smoking green 🍃, smut, cussing, oral (giving and receiving for both characters), praise kink, and size kink if you squint really hard again and read between the lines lmao.

word count: 5k

• NOT RAMADAN FRIENDLY •

just friends

“You sure you don’t want me to come up?” Rylan’s honey eyes flick from your dorm bulging back to yours. The tension from tonight’s argument is fresh in those crinkles next to his eyes that you used to love. Fucking adore.

Parting your lips, you sigh, “See you around.”

“Don’t be like that,” A ringless hand runs through his dark hair. You’re not exactly sure why you’re focusing on that but here we are. “It was a joke, come on.”

Your hand rests on the door handle, silently contemplating on freaking the fuck out again. This isn’t the first time he’s made jokes, very public jokes about your best friend. The very first time you let it slide with a warning because some people don’t understand that you can be just friends with the opposite gender. They can’t wrap their heads around that not every relationship revolves around sex. You understood but tonight? He went too far.

“Saying Harry follows me like a stray dog,” You have to take a deep breath because Rylan doesn’t know what Harry’s been through. That only pisses you off more. “Was too far.”

“He doesn’t have any friends, Lil, just you.”

“Because he’s smart, he doesn’t have friends because he’s fucking brilliant.” It was true, Harry focused more on school and baseball than friendships. He got a full ride to Calloway University reliant on grades and his pure, raw talent. Some would stop there but he took it a step further by studying physics. Now it’s your turn to run a hand through your hair because this is the fourth fight over your best friend. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Do you not see how fucked that is?” He hisses, making your head snap in his direction. “You’re supposed to be dating me, not him.”

You scoff, “So that’s what this is?”

Rylan’s hold tightened on the steering wheel, so tight that his knuckles were almost white. “Look, I don’t care that you’re friends with him but you spend too much time-”

That confirmed everything for you. Your long friendship with Harry wasn’t the problem. Rylan knew how much Harry meant to you and how your friendship was all you had sometimes. He knew yet the fact that he didn’t have your full attention every waking moment of the day was the source of cruel jokes.

“You’re threatened, huh?” His knuckles blanched even more as the words left your mouth. “Listen to the words coming out of my mouth, Ry. Harry’s been my best friend since I was seven. Nothing has and will never happen between us. I would never sleep with him and ruin our friendship.”

“I see how you guys look at each other.”

Your whole face heats, it’s literally on fire. “You’re seeing things because we’re just friends.”

“You’re in denial.” Fuck. This.

Those three words were enough to push you. Push you to fling open the car door and launch yourself onto the pavement. They were enough to heat your whole body to the point that chilly winter air wasn’t enough to simmer down your anger. You don’t even bother slamming the door shut because that asshole can get out and shut it himself. That’s what he gets for constantly trying to pry a confession out of you. A confession that doesn’t exist but he still won’t accept it. The security guard gives a weary smile as you pass him, an obvious witness of the whole shit show. You look over your shoulder just in time to watch Rylan peel out.

He doesn’t follow you, shocker. Not that you wanted him to but you also didn’t expect him to. He acts like he cares but when push comes to shove, actions don’t match the words constantly flying out of that stupid mouth.

Unlocking and relocking the door with a soft click, your dorm is oddly dark and quiet. It looks like no one has been here all day. This is a possibility since Ellie spends most nights with her boyfriend. You slide off your black vans and place your bag on the hooks by the door. Seniors get a common room and separate bedrooms in student housing and you love the privacy. Honestly? It’s hard as fuck to hook up sharing a room with someone. El never cared who you brought home but felt weird as hell, yano?

From: ball boy (11:35 pm)

you home?

To: ball boy (11:36 pm)

yeah

You loosen your claw clip and honey-blond waves tumble. Walking into your room, you slip out of the cute-ass outfit you spent an hour perfecting and into some random band shirt with no bra and spandex shorts. Such a shame because you looked hot, too bad the night didn’t end with Ry ripping this lacy, black corset off you. Sucks for him.

From: ball boy (11:42 pm)

open the window before Mack catches my ass.

Your eyes snap toward the only windows in your room. The sheer, black curtains were closed but they did a shit job keeping the sunlight out so, honestly, how good were they for privacy? Your heart hammers thinking about Harry seeing you. How he could’ve seen all of you, not just what you choose to show off. The thought made your heart hammer.

From: ball boy (12:46 am)

don’t tell me you’re fucking someone right now

From: ball boy (12:47 am)

fuckin’ sick, lil

Annoyed, you rip open the curtains to find Harry’s cocky expression staring straight at you. It’s too dark to make out his full face but you can tell by the smirk tipping the left side that he’s amused. Making your favorite dimple dent even deeper. In one swift motion, the latch unlocks letting him in. He’s done this a million times, yano? Sneaking in your room for late-night study sessions, movie nights, or sleepovers. You’ve shared a bed countless times but never crossed that line, he’s your best friend. There are rules in place to save your friendship. He means more to you than one night of pleasure. Always has.

“Nice shirt, been looking for that everywhere.” Evergreen eyes bounce across your face, “Thought you had a date.”

You blow out a breath, “Not anymore.”

He smirks, dimple popping, “Obviously.”

“Thought you had plans.” You counter because Harry may not have many friends but that didn’t mean anything when it came to his sex life. He had trouble talking to girls but that didn’t seem to matter because they flocked to him. There was just something about him that drew people in, you included especially you. Maybe it was his ability to make anyone in the room feel special; wanted by having his undivided attention.

His lips purse, “Nah, not tonight.”

“Why?”

He gives you a pointed look giving away that he knows, “You know why.”

Guilt settles into your stomach, that stupid sinking feeling of being caught hit full force. He had the same argument with Grace that you did with Rylan tonight. They seem to argue more though and it kills you seeing him upset. You know he cares about her but he loves you. Maybe not romantically but definitely platonically and that means something to him. Every time they have this conversation, you know you should walk away. It's always your first instinct to protect people you love and you love your best friend. But, you’d rather die than let him go and that’s selfish as fuck but true. You sigh, “Harry-”

“I’m good,” He closes the distance and wraps you into a hug and it feels like home. Your favorite type of hug. “Worried about you.”

You smile against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart hitting your cheek, “Nothing a Star Wars marathon won’t cure, Stud.”

His face lights up, “God, I could kiss you, Lil.”

“Whatever you say, ball boy.” Your heart flutters violently but you ignore the feeling. He always jokes like this in secret and maybe that’s the reason no one believes you’re just friends. But, they’re just jokes, yano.

“Ball boy?” He scoffs, making you tilt your chin to meet his gaze. When your eyes finally focus, Harry’s staring at you with his stupid, dimpled smile. Just because he’s your best friend doesn’t mean you’re completely immune. He’s handsome and you’d be dumb to deny that because, well, you have eyes. Currently, he looks even better from this angle. His hair’s tousled as neat as those chestnut curls will allow and dimples seem more prominent. Deep, inviting indents. The black, backwards hat only adds to the contrast of those evergreen eyes. Your favorite shade of green. A sliver of metal trapped between perfect teeth as he cocks his head. He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “That’s fucked up.”

Pulling back, you shrug, “You’re the one who plays with them all day.”

His tongue clicks, cheeks hollowing, “Baseball, I play baseball.”

You dismiss him with a wave, walking into the common room. “Whatever helps you hit balls with your bat, Ball boy.”

“Better watch that pretty mouth of yours,” He warns in a low tone, so low that everything tingles. Reaching into his hoodie, he pulls out a bag of weed before plopping on the couch, “because I don’t share with bad girls.”

“Watching Star Wars high?” You grin as he nods. “Man of my dreams.”

Harry smirks, all boyish and full dimples, “Don’t tease.”

After pressing play and settling into the couch, you glance over at him just as the credits begin to roll. He’s lighting a joint, brows set in concentration, pink lips puckered around the paper inhaling slowly before passing it to you.

The next forty minutes fly by in the best, blissfully buzzed way. Time doesn’t have an exact science. We’re happy and having a good time. All the anger from earlier dissipated from you and Harry just being together. His nose found its way under your jaw, right next to your pulse point, some time after fifteen or so minutes. He’s always been affectionate when buzzed but holy fuck, was he toning it down before. You don’t know what changed but his hands haven’t left your waist and he keeps hugging closer to your chest with little sighs and hums of contentment. He smells so fucking good like peppermint, fresh laundry, and smoke.

Your breathing is slow and steady. Completely wrapped in him. Fingers twisting the curls at the nape of his neck until your fingertips tingle to touch him elsewhere. You don’t allow them to go lower than his throat, feeling how harsh each swallow was each time you’d get below the hinge of his jaw. He hums against your neck, nuzzling deeper into the column dangerously like he can’t get enough, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” You breathe as he hugs tighter, not stopping your feather-like movement through his soft curls. “You?”

“Yeah, that feels good.” His words come out sleepy and deep and gravelly. “Your t-touch always feels good.” Warm evergreen holds all your attention as he kisses your cheek, “Thank you for being here with me. You make everything better, always have.”

Your face tilts, noses inches apart, and whisper. “You make everything better for me too.”

Harry’s the type of man that goes from beautiful to devastating with a change of facial expression. Your hazy brain can’t stop taking him in for some reason. It’s involuntary. That beautiful, sculpted face is hidden at nightfall but you allow yourself to appreciate how much time someone put into crafting him. It’s like you spent the last fifteen years with blinders on and can finally see.

Sage burns into evergreen as his lips roll a few times like he’s trying to come up with a safe response. The irrational part of my brain wants to feel his mouth on you again so bad that you almost crave him. Your lips part at the same time waiting for the other to make a move or do something drastic. Three heartbeats of your mouths seconds apart. Three heartbeats in your own hazy, happy world. His nose nudges yours once before dropping back to your throat. His arms wrapped around you tighter and your breathing synced again. Instead of calm and steady, now it’s erratic and fast.

Fuck, you have to be high, right? Best friends don’t look at each other like this. Especially you guys.

He leans closer, left hand planted on your thigh as we just stare at each other. Almost like he feels it too. Your fingertips ache to touch the stubble dusting his jawline so bad they tingle but you can’t seem to move. Completely lost in the hypnotic desire clouding the calm green of his irises.

Not wanting to put pressure on Harry to make the first move, you close the distance. Not sure why you did that but your mouths part at the same time. His in surprise and yours in want, yet in perfect sync. Pressing your lips to his, he immediately kisses back, cupping your jaw. One second everything’s moving slowly and the next, he’s lifting his shirt over your head. Touching every inch of exposed skin like he can’t get enough. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts as yours find his jeans. The kiss breaks as he leans back just enough to look at you. You’re looking at each other in silence but it’s so fucking loud.

“We should-” He swallows harshly, columns of his throat tense, “Don’t wanna finally have you if you’ll regret-”

“Won’t ever regret you, H,” Your voice is hushed yet full of so much want and sincerity. “Don’t stop, we’re okay.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out in relief pressing another kiss to your lips that sends trace currents through your body full force. Finally giving into the sweetest temptation you’ve ever tasted. Forbidden and delicious. This was like an avalanche of feelings and lust in motion, couldn’t stop the cascade if you tried. The aftermath would eventually come but everything would be okay. It had to be.

“Yeah, just friends,” Your lips move with his again but lazier, a slow pace that makes everything come to life. “This doesn’t change anything.”

You lied because this meant everything but you can’t stop.

He blinks like he can see right through your bullshit.

You blink back hoping he doesn’t.

“Just friends.” He repeats only the first half of your lie between kisses, pressing your body further into the couch with his hips.

The words come out breathless.

The words come out easily.

The words come out in cool peppermint.

He starts to drag your shorts off at the same pace the kiss and you lift a little to help. Being this vulnerable, letting the other fully see the other is something you can’t put into words. Your eyes rake his body as his lustful, dark gaze mirrors yours. There aren’t enough fucking words to describe how beautiful he is. Taking in every single detail from his tattoos to his cock pressed between your open thighs. The desperation; everything fucking aches for him. He leans forward, lips parting, eyes darkening by the minute, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jaw until they meet your mouth. The warm metal of his tongue ring claiming every inch of your mouth. He tasted like charged temptation in the best way, like something you didn’t know you craved until now.

Harry whimpers as your legs wrap around his waist. His cock throbs between your thighs and he groans against your lips. The sound vibrating with need; so fucking desperate. Strong hands grip your ass as the kiss deepens. He’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s hungry for air. Almost like he can’t breathe without tasting you. Without having you like this. Staggered, harsh breaths hit the left side of your as his lips descended. Sucking and biting gently at your throat until they reach your chest and wrap around your nipple piercings. Metal clanking salaciously as his tongue swirls, toying with each little bar. His cock throbs again and your head falls back into the throw pillows with a loud moan. The arrogant smirk against your already heated skin only sends fire dancing.

Crackling and humming with each touch. They say fire needs oxygen to grow and Harry was yours. Always has been, he ignites all your fires.

Pulling back slightly, salacious evergreen meets thunderous oceans as he speaks, “So fucking pretty.” His words come out as a rasp, full of raw desperation. “Wanna taste you so fucking bad.” Kisses pepper your face, “Wanna make you feel so good, please? ”

“Y-yes,” You breathe, unable to finish the sentence as his kiss-bruised lips meet yours again and again, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin of your already open thighs, while yours run through his soft curls. Tangling and twisting as your lips move hungrily, desperately. Your teeth trap his tongue ring gently tasting and the sound that escapes his throat is feral. His body pushes against yours as you devour each other. Urgent, hungry, and like you might run out of time or change your mind. Hot, open-mouth kisses descend from your lips to your jaw then stop at the base of your throat.

“Fuck,” The word’s rushed, nearly a pant, as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The view of his gorgeous, toned body sends a shiver down your spine. The butterfly on his chest fluttered with each rapid breath. His abs jutting and rippling like it took everything in him not to lose it right then and there. Rough yet gentle hands feather your ribs, gliding effortlessly until they pause at your hips, leaving trace currents branding me with each tortuous touch. The rings on his fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips despite how gentle he’s being. A surprised gasp leaves my lips in a whimper as his grip tightens holding you into place. Your hips tilt, wanting to feel him and he groans, nostrils flaring like he’s in pain, “Want you so bad,” His nose runs against your jaw, “Not gonna last if you keep moving, Lil.”

“Sorry,” You breathe letting your head fall back as it swims with every effortless emotion you feel for him.

“Shh, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect, look at you.” He whispers, the gravelly tone of his voice sending vibrations between your thighs making you ache. A completely desperate ache for him that would be embarrassing if it was anyone but your Harry. Suddenly, he’s kissing you but lazily this time. His lips moved so painfully slow and tender against yours. Kissing like you have all the time in the world. As soon as you match his pace, he breaks the kiss sighing deeply against your parted lips. He studies your face, evergreen locked on blue, as he slowly drifts between your thighs. His hands follow him, traveling down your inked body with ease, until they lock around your upper legs.

“What’re you doing?” You ask breathlessly, trying to keep up with his pace. He ignores you, placing drawn-out kisses trailing from your left hip to inner thigh. Soft moans leave your parted lips each and every time his mouth touches your skin. His kisses are getting closer and closer, nipping and sucking, teasing and torturing. It’s too fucking much. “Harry-”

“Need something, Lil?” He sucks harder on your hip, leaving a purplish bruise on porcelain skin, tilting his head up to meet your gaze with a lazy smirk. So effortlessly sexy.

“Please-” Desperateness clings to the word as your head falls back, unable to handle seeing him between your legs.

“Please what?” Harry smirks against heated skin as your hips move forward, “Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I want-” The sentence pauses at the tip of your tongue. No one’s ever asked what you wanted before. “I’ve never-” Your brows push together trying to find the right word but he reaches up, fingers smoothing the line between them like he understands.

“It’s okay,” He runs the flat of his tongue against your clit and your knees almost push together from pleasure, the round of his tongue ring hitting perfectly. Like he knows exactly what you need. Burning evergreen disappears into the back of his head as he moans against you, fingernails digging into your skin. “Taste so fucking good, Lil. Knew you would, so fucking sweet.”

“Fuck,” The whimper that comes out of you is pathetic as he lifts your leg, draping your right knee over his shoulder, tongue circling with no mercy. Flicking and sucking and teasing as he changes pace. Your head falls back feeling his piercing tease your entrance with each flick of his perfect tongue. Your fingers laced into his wet curls, tugging as he pulled back, eyes meeting yours. Bringing his left middle and ring fingers to your lips, manually parts them until his fingers push past your bottom teeth. The cold metal of his rings hits your warm mouth. Evergreen dances darkly as they glide across your tongue until you gag around them. He exhales roughly, head cocking, “Mmm, suck. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

Your lips wrap around his fingers as your eyes lock. He moves them in and out a few times before withdrawing. Never breaking eye contact, pink lips puckering around my clit as his fingers tease your entrance. He watches you intensely, so fucking intensely as his fingers match the pace of his tongue. Your eyes flutter in pure fucking bliss as your grip on his hair returns. Pulling and tugging, making him groan so deeply, “Lil.”

Your name came out of his mouth with the same electricity that courses through your veins whenever he’s around. Hot, entrancing, unfuckingdeniable, and your undoing. White, hot pleasure hits so hard that you try to close your legs but his hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them open, easing you through it. Your breathing evens out as Harry watches you between your open thighs. His head tilted upward, lips parted in amazement, evergreen bouncing around your face like he’s committing every muscle movement to memory.

“For fucks sake.” He exhales, blinking in complete astonishment.

“Hmm?” The word comes out lazily, so fucking easy like your smile.

He hovers, face inches from yours, hazy eyes blazing with lust. The end of his cross necklace bounces off your bottom lip a few times. “So pretty when you cum, Angel.”

Fuck, in one swift movement, you push his chest backward completely straddling him as his back hits the couch. Long, ring-clad fingers grip your jaw as he presses his lips to yours, kissing slowly, tongues tangling lazily. He tastes like you and it makes your head spin. His fingers tangle into your hair, blond waves fall, as he collects them wrapping the strands around his wrist. Breaking the kiss, your hands glide across his skin, feeling every harsh breath and ridge before settling between his legs. Every flutter of his butterfly as he breathes, how his abs constrict with each breath like he wants you so badly that it’s painful, and the vein resting next to the perfect v-line of his left hip. Taking a deep breath, your head tilts, meeting his hungry, beautiful gaze as your lips wrap around his head.

He lets out a loud moan, abs jutting, as your tongue twirls and teases. His head lolls back, lips parting while the moans come out so fucking feral; desperate. The grip on your hair loosens as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks with each suck. Honey curls fall you around like a curtain as he cups the back of your head, pushing you to take him deeper, never breaking eye contact. You almost wanna shut yours seeing how much adoration and attention and lust swims in his pretty irises. He starts moving his hips slowly, testing, and relaxing your jaw. His jaw tightens with each thrust, moaning so fucking loud, lips puckering around a needy exhale, “I-fuck-I’m not gonna last.”

Flattening your tongue, a hum in appreciation and that makes him break. The soft green of his eyes darkened as control slips with each thrust. “God, look at how pretty you look wrapped around my cock.” He groans even louder and you gag around him. His hips slow, “You can take it, just like that, so fucking good.”

Your cheeks hollow as his movements grow more frantic. More fucking desperate. Twirling your tongue, he pulls out, cupping your jaw again as he cums. Painting your chest in the most filthy way. Head tilted back, eyes shut, pumping his cock as he whimpers. Blush spreads up his throat, neck vein popping in the sexiest way, and perfect lips parted in pure ecstasy; pure bliss. He’s the most devastating man you’ve ever seen. The minute your gazes meet, your breathing halts. So many emotions battle to come to the surface as lush forests meet raging oceans. The push and pull that is us. This is a moment where you just stare at each other in understanding. Letting your eyes say what you’re afraid to admit out loud.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Harry’s voice is gentle and soothing while his fingers trace your jaw before disappearing. You count his footsteps but don’t respond. The weight of what happened crashed into you like a freight train. Your breathing accelerates instead of steading as everything plays out. You don’t want to lose him when this doesn’t work out. The thought comes quickly and like a bucket of ice water. Panic setting in because you can’t lose him. You can’t lose him over one night of weakness. Shit, the uncertainty feels heavy on your chest, heavier than it should because there’s no one you trust more. He’s your best friend.

“Lil?” Hesitantly, your eyes snap to your favorite shade of green. Allowing them to travel his peaceful features, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Everything about him is relaxed and unguarded as he starts cleaning you up with a warm washcloth. The light stubble on his sharp jaw to pink parted lips to the freckles on the bridge of his nose that you wouldn’t see unless you were close enough. Your fingertips ache to trace the path, feel each little freckle and plane of his face, until they’re touching his pink lips. Sometimes, you wish memories worked like photographs or something so you could accurately remember how being in his arms feels. How finally being his feels until unrelenting reality hits. You’re not his, Grace is, and that hurts worse than you thought. His lips tip into a left-sided smile, “There she is.”

“Here I am,” You smile back, cheekbone gently compressed by his long fingers.

Dark curls sticking up in different directions, evergreen eyes following every detail of your face, a red hue dusting across his cheeks, and his once parted lips tugging into a sleepy smirk, “You still with me, Lil?”

“Always.” The word came out fast because you were with him. Maybe too with him. “Gonna get dressed real quick.” A giggle escapes your lips, “Don’t have the money for Ellie’s therapy bill if she walks in.”

“Fuck,” He chuckles, running a hand through long curls, “She’d probably ask to join.”

Your phone buzzes two times and something inside you freezes. You know it’s Rylan, no one else but him and Harry text you this late. The playful expression on Harry’s face slowly drains into something that resembles pain as he hands it to me. The sudden change makes your stomach turn in the worst way.

From: Ry (2:30 am)

Sorry about tonight.

From: Ry (2:31 am)

Can’t lose you over a stupid argument, Lil. I know you and Styles are just friends and you wouldn’t touch him. Sorry for being a jealous prick.

That stomach-sinking guilt comes back full force and causes your mouth to flood with saliva. You pull the Nirvana shirt over your head and turn to explain but he’s already looking at the wall. His jaw tense, so tense that the hinges are bulging, but expression is stoic. He swallows, the columns in his throat tense then relax showing just how hard the salvia was to get down. You linger on his side profile for a second, appreciating the beautiful yet masculine planes of his face, before clearing your throat. He blinks a few times before turning slowly to meet your eyes. The words rush out of your mouth, “Harry-”

Playful evergreen darkened to forest green, “I better go.”

You jump to your feet, following behind him quickly, desperate to explain. His back to you, broad shoulders sagging, as he works to unlatch your window. The glass opens with a thud and you expect him to leave but he doesn’t. Ring-clad fingers grasp the ledge, knuckles blanch, as he just breathes. You count to fifteen waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t. 240 long, excruciating seconds pass. Exhaling harshly, his voice is hoarse, “We need to tal-“

“Friends?” You blurt, not letting him finish. Needing to know you’re okay, eyes volleying between him and the notification on your phone.

He pauses, hand resting on the windowsill, so much pain in those evergreen eyes you love so much. There he was, always taking care of you. Even if it means hurting him.

“Yeah, Lil.”

Your attention stays on the window as he slips out without giving you a chance to respond. Everything smells like him, a mouthwatering mixture of fresh laundry, peppermint, and something earthy like the wind. Even your skin has traces of him that you don’t think you’d be able to wash off. The memory of tonight permanently embedded into you and there is no denying it. How his mouth felt, his hands on you, the sound of his raspy voice slowly ruining you for anyone else.

What the fuck did you just do?

676 notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

———

Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.

And jeans.

Nico gapes at him.

“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”

“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.

“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”

“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”

This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.

“In here!”

Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.

“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”

“Shhh!”

“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”

“Go, go, go!”

Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.

Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.

“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”

“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”

“One two three go!”

Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.

“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!

“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”

“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”

“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”

“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.

“Just a few more yards, then we can —”

“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.

“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”

“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”

“Please?”

“One.”

He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”

“Two.”

“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”

“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”

Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.

“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.

“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”

He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.

Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”

“…Ah.”

Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”

There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.

He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.

“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”

“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”

“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”

Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.

Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.

A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.

“The hell is that?”

“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.

“What do you know about Michael?”

“Uh, not too much.”

“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”

Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.

He tries to find a delicate way to say this.

“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.

Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”

He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.

“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”

He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —

He gapes. Will grins.

Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.

“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”

Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.

There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —

“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.

“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”

Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.

“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”

Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.

“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”

Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.

“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”

“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”

Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.

“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.

“Let’s ride, baby!”

With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.

———

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murdrdocs · 2 months

Text

II most wanted.

slightly suggestive content; implied oral (f receiving) southern!luke w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

thinking about riding shotgun with luke in a beat up truck, the one thing his father left for him. that one good and worthy thing his father left for him. refusing to see that his father could do good, luke believes that the chipped powder blue chevy, sweetly named jolene, was his doing, not his father. luke has worked tirelessly to take the hunk of clunk into something worthwhile. something he loves.

you're sitting in the passenger seat for once and not in the center. your head was previously laying on the crotch of luke’s faded blue jeans, but you now sit with your head resting on the headrest, your lower half at a slightly awkward angle to allow your feet to dangle out of the window. it feels good enough to ignore the cramp in your side and the pain in your lower back.

there's some song playing through the speakers of the truck. you've heard it enough times to hum along to it, but your stubbornness keeps you from asking for the name. luke sings along too, his voice a nice mix of smooth and scratchy in ways he can't control, but it still makes a beautiful symphony. his fingers thump against the worn leather of the steering wheel in time with the beats, adding in a few drum fills in between that you can easily see him replicating on his set in his detached garage.

the road in front of you is desolate. a windy backroad that he knows as well as the back of his hands. it's a two laner, meant for luke's truck and another to pass by each other without a second glance. but at this time in the evening, most people are home with their families, leaving the road all alone for you and luke. he drives in the center, the large wheels of his truck and the lifted cab making you feel like you're on a throne. like you're invincible as luke's truck straddles the weathered yellow center line.

you don't know where you're heading. maybe the diner just on the outskirts of town, shealy's. that one that always hosts truck drivers that are either too kind for their own heart, or too misguided when they try to mess with you, completely unknowing of the substance foreign to their feeble brains coursing through luke's veins. (on the nights where luke lost control, when the wrath got control of him, you would be the one to tend to his shiner and hide him in your room until he was unscarred enough to face his worrying mother.)

you turn to face him, watching his overgrown curls whip around his face from the wind. he's a little tanner, a distinct farmers tan on his arms from the work he's picked up over the summer. he's a little buffer too, surely from the way he's been working both on mr. sease’s land throughout the week and in his mother's garden on sunday's, a place he previously hadn't frequented much but he's been going there more since you encouraged it.

you take your feet out from the window to nudge your big toe into luke's thigh, gathering his attention. he slows to a stop sign, in the right lane this time, and turns the volume down enough to hear you.

he hums, turning to look at you with something so particular to him in his eyes. lovesick, your brain tells you. but the thought makes you turn all giggly and you try to hide your smile.

there isn't anyone else at the four way stop, so luke sits and takes his time. he looks at you. he's looking at you. your stomach turns and you suddenly really need a coke or sweet tea to cool you down.

"shealy’s?" you ask, your voice a little hopeful even though it doesn't need to be. it's rare that luke denies you of anything, especially the banana pudding that he knows you like at the diner.

"'course," he tells you. "your mom's not cooking tonight?"

you know how much luke loves your mom's cooking. but tomorrow is sunday, and he'll have more food than he knows what to do with by then.

you shake your head.

"shealy's it is then." he turns to face the road, places a hand over your calf, and speeds towards the diner.

later in the night, when you're back at your place and luke is ready to spend yet another night with you, you kiss him with a banana pudding flavored tongue. you're loaded up on hearty food and too-sweet treats, a quarter full container of banana pudding in the fridge and a half finished milkshake on your nightstand as testaments. it was originally luke's, but what's his is yours at this point in your relationship.

the pressure in your stomach makes you feel a little sick, but the desire deep in your abdomen and the sudden emptiness between your legs prevails past the food-induced pain. you straddle his hips, much like how you were positioned not too long ago in his truck. but the freedom of space in your bed allows for more range of motion. the space of your bed allows luke to lay you on your back, and slide down between your legs.

still, it's really nothing unlike what you've been able to do in the cab of his truck, too.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #drummer!luke #celeste writes pjo

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strawberrysainz · 1 year

Text

paradise. carlos sainz jr (18+)

“ maybe it was a mistake asking your newly-single, extremely attractive childhood best friend to accompany you to an event. well, it happened anyway. ”

carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

a warning— nsfw!!!! please don’t interact with this work if you are under 18 🫶. alcohol consumption, profanity.

word count: 1.5k

wrote this one a bit differently — let me know if it works for ya or not xx

She called his name into the dim light of the passage of the house; she stared out at the first hint of the evening, the light catching her eyeshadow.

He peeked out from the door down the hallway, still fiddling with shirt buttons, hair damp. She smiles.

“Could you do up my dress?” She asks, and he nods, clearing his throat as he follows her back into the unfamiliar room to gaze into the full length mirror.

He finds himself thinking about her.

Her bare back is on display, and he blushed furiously as he studies the complicated hooks, slightly perplexed. He murmurs something about having much bigger hands than hers.

Her back flexes as she laughs, explaining something about a hook at the top which eases the process. His mind drifts far away as he studies the intimate picture of her back against the red silk, and she looks impossibly beautiful, her hair and her makeup. He has a small revelation he’s never had before, one she’s considered since she was fifteen, a childish longing that rushes throughout her body.

He manages to fumble his way up her back, brushing purposefully against it every few moments so he watches her skin become prickled at his touch. He enjoys it, slightly shocked at the feel of his pants tightening.

Eventually it’s finished, and she slides her arm around his waist momentarily as a thank you - the Arctic Monkeys are echoing out of her phone, he realised, Alex Turner’s voice achingly suggestive with the dark track.

He watches her bend down gently to put on her high heels before his mind drifts to a place that he is quickly scared out of by the thought of her father killing him if he found out. He mutters something about fifteen minutes before he rushes out the door, the music all he can hear.

❤️‍🔥🎶💃🪩🥀

She slides her arm around his waist as they exit the venue, the dark of the night making him taller and her more confident (but that might have had to do with three or four mixed drinks).

His hand grips her shoulder - she’s wearing his suit jacket, and her red lips move animatedly as they get to the car. His head is spinning with the shock of a newfound desire, and the way in which he knows her so well, so personally, makes it so much worse.

She laughs his name and hits his arm as he makes a joke about some people at the dance. She is staring at his hands on the steering wheel, lips parted slightly with the heaviness of want, eyes fluttering shut. He is achingly pretty in the dark.

She talks a bit more, the energy in the car thick, but not awkward. He murmurs something about how beautiful she looked today, and she smiles to herself with pink cheeks as she looks down at the pictures they took together. There’s one - he’s staring at her while she is laughing at the camera - that makes her feel strangely warm.

She picks some other generic ones - both smiling into the camera, smiling at each other - and sends it to both of their mothers. She adds one to her Instagram story, of her on her tiptoes kissing his cheek as he smiles at the camera warmly. People immediately start to reply to it, and a notification comes in as his mom writes something about how lovely they look with lots of emojis.

He talks then, about drama of people they both know, and she talks about the plans they have made for the rest of the week at his apartment, and they collaborate on a groceries list; she listens to the pauses in his voice, the smooth Spanish and the accented English, the roughness of his tone. He is a work of art, a soft, sweet man she has adored since she was a toddler, tripping over the grass, gasping for breath, him breezing by.

Eventually they’re back at this familiar home, and she has a fleeting thought of a dinner with him, coming back to their home, their kids, dogs, lovers, kissing…

She shakes her head, trying to snap out of it. This isn’t possible. He’s vulnerable, he has been broken up with.

He locks the front door and says her name quietly, and she turns around from the second step of the stairs, and she turns around, sliding the blazer off. The silk makes her look amazing, he reckons, a bit foggy with desire, and her heels click as she shifts to the other foot.

She tilts her head to the side; he has a fleeting desire to kiss her neck, holding back a groan at how gorgeous she looks. Carlos? She says quietly, and the straining in his dress pants, the innocent look on her face, it’s all too much.

He kisses her.

The sheer shock of his lips - this boy she’s known since she was still in nappies - against hers makes her gasp, which turns into some kind of relieving moan, which makes him grab her waist desperately.

She runs her hands through his hair, tugging a little; he moans into her hot mouth. She wraps her arms around his neck as he taps her hips - she jumps and squeals as he goes up the stairs, wrapping her arms around his hips. She feels him half hard beneath her - she smirks with satisfaction- and as they barely make it to the kitchen he puts her on the counter, kissing her softly.

He begins to unbutton his shirt as she shoves her bag and his blazer across the counter, and she is met by his lips again; she runs hands over his firm chest with a dirty smile. Her breath hitches as he runs a hand slowly, up and up her thigh, and she boldly gets off the counter to take off her dress, the silk sliding easily. She’s left in just her underwear, and no bra, and he is staring at her, eyes dark, lips parted.

She moves over to the couch after he does, moving to be on top of him, and she dry rides him for a second - his breath catches in his throat - before she leans in to kiss his neck. He is reaching for her, his lips going to meet a nipple in his mouth.

She’s whining sweetly, the noise going straight to his dick, and then she moans nearly pornographically when he sucks, and she’s wriggling beneath him, muttering a curse in Spanish- it’s a sound he could have never dreamed of hearing.

He continues for a short while until she’s moving to pull his cock out of his pants - a short pump makes him squirm under her touch. She lets him hold her hair back as she bends down to have him in her mouth. He grips her head, moaning at the sight of her red lips around him.

She’s nearly got him at the edge- it’s fucking embarrassing, noting that she’s only been at it for a minute or so - so he gently pushes her off him, going to slide off her panties, brushing her thighs, kissing them, breathing something about how sexy she is, and she’s writhing with pleasure as he pushes her back and his tongue makes her hands fumble, tugging his hair, her sweet moans make him more frantic, and her taste on his tongue, she’s whispering rapidly, that lipstick all over his chest, neck, dick, face…

Soon enough she’s moaning loudly, all wriggly in a way that makes him faint with desire, cumming on his tongue, and he continues to eat her out religiously, tasting her greedily, until she’s pushing him away with a gasp.

He scrambles for a condom in his wallet thrown on the coffee table.

After a moment, he moves to position himself to enter her- he looks down at her- to confirm - and she nods desperately, still flushed from her orgasm, hair splayed out, lipstick messy, eyes blown wide, staring at him. He leans in to kiss her, filled by an unusual warmth at their intimacy. She sinks down on his cock, her being overstimulated and him so, so desperate to feel her, results in them both moaning; she sticks her head in the crook of his neck as she rides him, kissing his neck, and he involuntarily thrusts up; she begins to moan as he hits a spot inside her she hasn’t felt before.

He kisses the top of her head - and they’re both too naïve to know that anything casual does not at all go like this - he’s thrusting and she’s moaning, whimpering, screaming his name as the long, thick strokes have them both seeing stars, her hands on his chest as they find each other.

He whispers promises of not much longer and she kisses him instead as he comes- the motion and the gasping, and the rough, quick, hard stuttering of his body makes her come too, and they both have their heads in the crook of each other’s necks as they breathe heavily; he finds her pretty lips with his stained red.

They don’t move at all, instead making out on the couch - she can never look at that couch the same again - and he bites her lower lip as she stares at him, wondering if their lives could ever be the same again.

For better or worse, they would not.

a LOT of yall have been asking for smut 🧐👍 so i’ve given it a go. lmk your thoughts please, it’s my first time publishing it lollll. hope you enjoyed.

masterlist

don’t you dare be a silent reader. like. reblog. comment. follow 🍓❤️‍🔥

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 x you #carlos sainz imagine #f1 x reader #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x oc #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1

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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Text

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Max arrives at the wrong time and everything goes to hell. Warnings: 18+ only, angst WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

The door opening might as well have been a punch to your gut. You had seen Lando lose, you had seen him cry, but you had never seen him defeated.

“Lan,” you whispered in the silence as you rose from the couch where you had been curled up in Charles’ arms, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, it was an accident.”

The backpack hanging from his sagging shoulders slipped and thudded to the floor as he saw the suitcase waiting beside the door. “So this is how it is, go public and kick me out?”

“Lando, no.” You closed the distance and crashed into his chest but his arms didn’t return the embrace as you looked up to see the tears in his eyes.

“They’re mine, mon cher,” Charles said as he wrapped his arms around the both of you and kissed Lando’s temple. Lando closed his eyes at the soft touch of Charles’ lips and a tear squeezed free, squeezing your heart at the same time. “I thought you might want the night together after what happened.”

Lando fisted his hand in Charles' shirt to stop him from stepping any further away and tugged him back. Their lips collided with desperate need and you melted at the sight of their tongues fighting for dominance until Lando won. Charles sank into his embrace and moaned when Lando combed his fingers through his hair before they parted breathless. “You’re not leaving right now are you?”

Charles chuckled softly and shrugged. “I’m sure I can be convinced to stay for a little while.”

You would usually try to go to bed early before a race but this wasn’t a normal night. It was already late by the time Charles left for the empty room booked in his name down the hall, next to the empty one of Lando’s, for appearances sake. There was still no chance of sleep yet, not while Lando lay awake and staring at the patterns on the ceiling.

He had been a little rougher as his emotions got the better of him, not enough to hurt you or Charles, but enough to know there was a discussion needed about the new situation. Since Charles left he had been quiet, retreating back into himself the longer he lay there.

“Babe, we need to talk.”

His rising chest stopped as his eyes darted your way. “I hate those words. They are never followed by anything good.”

“They’re just words, not good or bad,” you pointed out but he just looked away with a huff of air through his nostrils. “What do you think we should do?”

“About what?” He turned and propped himself up on his elbow as he traced a fingertip along your curves. “About how my boyfriend and my girlfriend get to have a normal relationship in public, go out on dates, hold hands, kiss? About how I have to play third wheel, a friend tagging along?” He flopped back down and slung an arm across his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“There are other options. We could say we went on a date but it’s nothing serious, no label, be more careful and let the heat die down. Not everyone who kisses has to be in a relationship.”

“If you say you aren’t dating him then the tabloids will call you a slut, that’s how they work,” he muttered.

“I don’t care what they call me, they’ve called me a bitch for most of my career.”

“But I care! I hate how you are treated by the male reporters, how everyone holds you to different standards.”

“It wasn’t all that long ago when you were one of those people too,” you reminded him. “You treated me differently to your guy friends.”

“Not because you were a girl,” he groaned as he pinched your hip. “That was because I was in love with you.”

You quirked an eyebrow up and poked him in the chest. “Was?”

“Am, always,” he corrected with a laugh before he sighed. “I feel like I’ll be forgotten.”

“Oh, Lando…” You pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. “This only works because of the three of us. Without you, we wouldn’t be complete. I wouldn’t be complete.”

His face softened at the reassuring words and his hands ran up your body to cup your face, pulling you down to meet his. “Promise me,” he whispered against your lips.

Taking one of his hands you held his forefinger and crossed it over your heart. “I promise. You won’t ever be forgotten.”

Cradling you to his chest, he wrapped his arms around you and yawned as the exhausting day came to a close. “What do you think Charles is doing?”

You snorted a laugh. “Probably sitting on an ice pack.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Lando asked as he bit his lip.

“I don’t think our Charles has ever really been spanked, he might feel it in the morning,” you giggled. “He knows you would have stopped the moment he asked to, but he didn’t, so it wasn’t too much for him.”

He relaxed under you and after a few minutes his breathing evened out as he fell asleep. You started to climb off him so you could lay on his arm but the moment you moved he woke up.

“You make a terrible weighted blanket,” he grumbled. “Stay still.”

Chuckling, you laid back down and made yourself comfortable, pulling the blankets up to settle in for the night. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

His sleepy mumblings were almost incoherent but you caught his reply with a smile as you drifted off too.

“Max?” You frowned as you opened the door expecting to find Charles returning for breakfast. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” he replied as he pushed the door open and walked in without an invitation.

You pulled the hotel robe tighter around your body and crossed your arms defensively. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“He’s one of my best mates and you lied to me.”

“I never lied, I just didn’t tell you - because it’s none of your business what I do. And, it obviously didn’t affect your friendship.”

“Secrets are bad,” he stated like he was talking to Penelope and you felt your temper rise.

“I was a secret!” you hissed sharply. “I was a secret for ten fucking years, Max. Does that make me bad?”

“Why are you whispering?” Max narrowed his eyes at the bedroom door that was almost closed. “Is that bastard here? I'm going to kill him.”

“Max, don’t go in there.” He ignored your protest as he shoved the door open and tore the bedding away. “Max!”

Confusion hit Max like a slap to the face as he saw who it was asleep naked facedown in your bed. “Lando?”

Lando came awake suddenly, after managing to sleep through the noise it was the cold air that woke him. “Woah, what the…?”

“You’re fucking him too?” Max growled, turning away from Lando to look down his nose at you. Disappointed was set deep in his features as he shook his head. “You’re a whore, just like your mother.”

You didn’t even feel your fingers closing around the vase, you didn’t feel anything but the explosive need to make him regret his words. Max managed to dodge the vase as it flew across the room at him but porcelain shattered against the wall that your scream echoed off.

“Apologise now,” you demanded as you started to stalk your half brother around the bed. “My mother did nothing wrong! Jos may have cheated on your mum, but he royally fucked mine over.”

You didn’t hear the footsteps coming in, and you barely registered the arms that wrapped around you, the red sleeves bright against your white robe. All your focus was on Max and the sneer on his face that you wanted to slap right off.

“Guess you’re more like Jos than you thought then,” Max snickered. “Let her go, Charles, prove once and for all that you are a Verstappen.”

“What the hell is going on?” Charles growled as he struggled to hold you back. “Lando…a little…help.”

Max frowned as he watched Lando rush to help keep you from reaching him, after tripping over the pair of boxers he was trying to pull on. “You’re not even going to ask why Lando was in her bed?”

“I would be more worried if he wasn’t, it’s where I left them,” Charles snapped impatiently. “Now get the fuck out of our room.”

Max swallowed as he digested the news and an array of emotions flitted across his face. “Where you left them…”

Lando cupped your face as he positioned himself between you and Max, talking softly as he tried to get your attention, “Look at me, love. Forget what he said, he’s wrong.”

“You’re nothing like Jos,” Charles reminded quietly in your ear, his lips brushing your neck as he spoke.

You finally dragged your eyes away from Max and met Lando’s only to see the rage you showed outwardly suppressed deep in his blue eyes. Closing your eyes, you sagged in their arms and nodded as the fight left you as quickly as it came. It was only then that you realised the shaking wasn’t coming from you but Charles and Lando. They were using you as an anchor as much as you were clinging to them like a lifesaver.

“Go away,” you said to Max as Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his quiet murmurings promising you their friendship was over for what he called you. “Leave us alone.”

“But-”

“As far as I am concerned, I don’t have a father, and I don’t have a brother.” Your voice was steadier than you expected it to be but it was empty, cold and dead. “I have everything I need right here.”

Max could see there was no arguing with you, your mind was set and you were stubborn. Making his way out of the room he paused beside Lando, looking at his closest friends to see they were just as disappointed as he was, only theirs was aimed at him. “You’re throwing away a decade of friendship for her?”

Charles' arms tightened around you as his back stiffened at the question and you peeked up over your shoulder to see the sadness in his eyes. “You did that, mate, the moment you disrespected the woman we love.”

“Charles, you love every woman you date. My sister is just going to be another girl you get bored with and dump at the end of the season.” Max shook his head and made his way to the door only to stop as he reached for the doorknob. “I hope you really thought this through, zusje. What happens when one of them crashes, are you going to throw away a win just to check they are alright?”

“Yes.” It was an easy question to answer. “Some things are more important than winning, which just goes to show…I’m not a Verstappen.”

You left the circuit without taking the usual team celebration photo. You left the moment the podium celebration was finished.

There had been no flood of excitement or adrenaline as you stood at the centre between Max and Lewis. You hadn’t even been able to shake your bottle of champagne to more than a fizz before taking a seat on the step and overlooking the crowd that cheered. You deserved the win, you worked hard for it, so why did you feel like shit?

You had pushed recklessly, taking corners needlessly fast so you could stay ahead of Max. You had degraded the tires uncharacteristically quick with poor management. It wasn’t a clean win. It wasn’t won for the right reasons. You had wanted to humiliate Max and a 20 second lead was the only way you could do that.

Spotting a disappointed Jos in the crowd, you lifted the bottle up to salute him before tipping it back with both hands and swallowing as much of the bubbly as you could before Calum intervened. He already had his hands full after collecting the Constructors trophy on behalf of Red Bull but he made room to take your bottle as well.

“Come on, Spitfire,” he said as he hooked an arm under yours and pulled you to your feet. “Another one for the collection.”

You forced a smile and traded your trophy for the bottle. “Can you take that down to the garage for me?”

“Sure. Where are you going?”

“Home.” Your eyes drifted to Max who was busy wiping away the confetti stuck to his hair. You had half expected him to tell everyone the truth but as the day wore on there was no breaking news or anything more than the photo of you and Charles kissing.

“Wait, hold up, wait…” he called after you but you were already descending the stairs and weaving your way out the back of the motorhomes. You stopped by the empty Red Bull space just long enough to change your clothes and grab your bag but by the time you opened the door Charles and Lando were waiting outside your driver room.

“Need an escape, love?” Lando asked as he held up the key to the McLaren sports car he had been given for the weekend. “We can beat the traffic to the airport if we leave now. Anywhere you want in the world, baby.”

You pulled your phone out of your bag and turned it on to see all the unread messages but there was one you had been waiting for and you smiled when you found a reply had come in during the race.

Of course, honey, you are always welcome home x

“Anywhere?” you asked as you put your phone away. You met their curious faces as they nodded and waited for your destination. “How would you like to meet my mum?”

Click here for part six.

#charles leclerc x reader x lando norris #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader

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babygirl-riley · 4 months

Note

Hii could you do one with ghost seeing his newborn and he came with guest like John, price, gaz for tea and the reader heard her baby start to cry and she goes to breast feed her baby upstairs for privacy and downstairs they all tell ghost how far he’s come in life and how proud they are of him and like they got gifts for the baby. If that’s okay with you!

Tea Time

Ghost brings guests over to meet his newborn baby

A/N: Omg this really warms my heart they would be so happy for him. Especially Price! Like lord watching his masked son have a child of his own 😭 Also sorry about the late story post school has been beating my asssss

Warnings: fluff, talks about baby, pure happiness, husband!simon, dad!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

It was at first an awkward silence all four of them sitting in a living room. Simon decided to bring his military family over to meet his newborn. Simon wasn’t able to be there when you gave birth. Missed it by two months since the baby was born, due to a mission going sideways. When he called to inform you that he was coming home, you naturally were excited.

While Simon was packing up to get going, Price followed him out. “Once the both of you are settled love to meet the little bugga.”

Simon chuckled. “Of course Cap.”

Simon called you again, it only rung twice before you picked it up. “On your way?” Your voice sounded tired yet perked up at the end.

“Yes ma’am, j’st leavin’,” He paused before clearing his throat. “Price mentioned comin’ and meeting the baby.”

“Okay,” You said calming waiting to see if he would say anything else before softly chuckling. “They coming today?”

Simon tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Didn’ say yes to today, you wantin’ to?”

“I wouldn’t mind, haven’t had company over for a while. Unless you don’t want it?” You said, he could hear the smile in your voice. Both of you didn’t want anyone over at the end of your pregnancy worried about everything and then some. Didn’t want to get you sick in case of something would happen to the baby.

Simon went silent before nodding like you could see him. “I don’t mind.”

Before getting the call ahead for the boys to come, you have Simon time to hold his baby girl. At first he was hesitant looking at the small thing that bundled into the pink blanket. “She won’t break.” You smiled softly, holding a hand to his bicep.

“She is small.” He whispered watching her make faces as she slept.

You lifted your arm and started to guide his, forming his arms to be ready to hold her. You could see the small panic in his eyes as you started to place her. Guiding him how to hold her head. She moved basically looking like she was settling herself into his arms. He went stiff before looking at you as he smiled a bit. “She’s beautiful baby.”

“We did good baby.” You said getting on your tippy toes as he leaned down kissing each other’s lips.

It was a couple of hours before he called Price and the boys to come and meet mini Riley. Without hesitation they all said yes and barreled their way down to the Riley home.

Now here they are, sitting around the living room. Gaz looked around the room noting some pictures of you and him on the wall. Some with his mask some not. Soap tapped his boots on the floor and Price drank the tea you made. Simon waited near the stairs as you started down them. All of them perked up like puppies on a park.

You showed off the baby to the boys. They held her one by one, watching her move around and fall asleep to smiling in her sleep. Price chuckled as she gripped his finger and played with her hand. Gaz held her as everyone talked around about the baby and how many pounds she weighted. Then it was Soap.

“She is beautiful,” Soap said holding her softly, she was laying on his forearms as he held her head with his hands. Soap leaning on his legs as he stared down at her. “Bet she gets it from ya huh lass?”

You chuckled as Simon glared at Soap, you could tell underneath his mask that he was smirking. “Kind of glad she don’ have my nose.” Simon mumbled agreeing with him.

Soap chuckled as he looked back at the baby. That’s when she let out a fuss before she cried. At first Soap was shocked and looked at you and Simon. You looked over at the clock as Simon grabbed her. “Don’t worry Soap you probably just stink,” You joked walking to Simon as you reached for her. “No but I have to go feed her.”

Simon nodded as you turned around. “Want any help?”

“Oh no she has it all handled Si.” You said smirking before winking and left upstairs.

Simon stood there and watched, disappearing. “She is beautiful Simon.” Price said breaking the silence.

Simon shrugged and nodded. “Would never think ya have a family.” Soap said with a teasing tone.

Price glared at him before Gaz chuckled. “Honestly I thought the same.”

Simon looked at both of them. “I didn’t either.”

Price sighed and shook his head. “I knew,” everyone looked at him. “You might seem like a cold hearted lieutenant however you have a kind heart,” Silence roamed through the air, Simon did not expect him to say anything like that. “I’m proud of you son.”

Soap was wide eyed then looked at Simon. “Nah he is right, never seen you so…”

“Don’t push it.” Simon grumbled seeing that glint in his eyes.

Soap put his hands up before looking at him. “For real though sir, you have an amazing family here.”

Gaz shuffled before standing up. “If you need a babysitter pretty sure Lola would love to watch her.”

Simon chuckled before standing up with him. “Have to fight the missus first.”

Gaz chuckled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You really look happy chap, just happy that you are able to find something and someone’s to come home to.”

Simon was shocked all around, he hasn’t heard any of these before from them. At least Soap and Gaz. Price every now and then. He felt proud yet it was odd to feel that way. “Thank you, all of ya.”

Price finished his tea as he stood up and walked to Simon. Gaz heading towards the door, giving a curt nod. Soap followed Gaz and gave a two finger salute. “See ya later sir.” Soap said was he opened the door. “Tell the lasses I said bye!” He hollered out.

“I’ll meet ya in the car yeah?” Price said to Gaz.

Gaz nodded and gave a wave to Simon. “Seriously proud of ya sir.”

Simon stood there for a moment before looking at Price. “You really have come a long way Simon. Ever since you met her it’s like you became lighter.”

Simon looked away towards the upstairs. “Like Gaz said John she is my home to come to.“

“I know she is, just proud of you for where ya at,” Price said as he sighed. “You were so lost Simon until you married her. She changed you for the better and you let yourself do that as well. I just wanted to tell you that I’m truly proud.”

Simon looked at Price and inhaled. “Thank you sir but I’m still terrified.”

Price chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Oh that won’t change, wait till she brings a boy home.”

Simon froze as Price walked towards the door. The poor bloke that would be coming home to Simon, she may never get a boyfriend until he dies. Yeah that would be the case.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley fluff

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mountainsandmayhem · 4 months

Text

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

18+

Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes matters into his own hands to deal with your newly insatiable sex drive with a little help from a u shaped friend. TW: softdom!Joel, female orgasms (like a lot of them), oral (fem!rec), this is all about her A/N: THANK YOU for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my last story! I fully believe only 1 or 2 people will read these and I'm just floored by the response so far. I wish I could write without a plot, but I added some backstory about these two. Word Count: 4.3k

Ellie has always been a tornado in your life. Her biological mom was your childhood best friend. She had her demons, so you can’t say you were surprised when during her weekend trip to visit you with her new baby she disappeared, leaving you with little Ellie.

Overnight, you went from a 22-year-old young woman starting your third year of your degree to a 22-year-old adoptive single mom pushing through your third year of college.

Your parents were helpful, driving four hours from the small town you grew up in every weekend so you could work or do homework. They offered to take Ellie for a while or help you find people to adopt her, but that little tornado of a girl was your priority and you weren’t going to abandon her like her mother.

She broke her arm at 2 on her big wheel, and at 3 she needed 10 stitches across her eyebrow from when she tried to leap from the kitchen table to the granite island. Safe to say the granite won as she still bears that scar today. At 4, she bolted up the stairs to the high dive and jumped off without an ounce of fear. Thank god she was already a strong swimmer.

She seemed to crave chaos, so when she befriended the girl with wildly curly hair on her first day of school you just shook your head, predictable little tornado.

Thankfully Sarah Miller was a sweet and kind-hearted girl, maybe even a little shy. It also helped that Sarah’s young dad, who didn’t wear a wedding ring, resembled a Greek god. Tall and broad with tanned skin, he owned some sort of contracting business based on the truck he’d do school pick up and drop off in. When the girls introduced you two, he flashed you a small smile, revealing that goddamn dimple.

You’re both pretty sure the girls played a hand in the two of you eventually getting together, granted they both conveniently don’t remember playing tiny matchmakers. They’d ask for sleepovers and playdates almost daily, or sign you both up to the same shift at school events.

“Mommy, I swear on the moon that the teacher picked!” Ellie said when you had the coat check station at the Valentine's Day dance. “Buuuut you might want to put on lipstick.”

It’s been a little over 14 years since then and he still sets your blood on fire with that dimple.

Both of you approached this new empty nest phase apprehensively, but it turns out that having the house to yourself (with no risk of one of the girls walking in) opened a whole new set of rather kinky doors. Not that you were necessarily vanilla before, but while they lived there you didn’t have ropes and paddles hanging on your bedroom wall, or the hooks on your four-poster bed.

You also never would have been how you are now, bathroom door wide open in only the trousers you planned to wear to work.

“Not that I’m complainin’ sweetheart. But why are you topless?” Joel asks on his way to the kitchen.

“It’s too damn hot in here.” You grumble, getting out your skincare and makeup.

Joel shook his head to himself as he walked to the kitchen. He knew better than to bring up that it wasn’t the temperature, it was you and your recent perimenopause diagnosis. He hated to see you suffering, but your newly insatiable libido gave him an idea.

As you get ready, Joel leans against the bathroom door frame drinking coffee, observing you through the mirror.

You see him most days in his typical work attire - dark jeans, a t-shirt with his company logo, and a flannel or denim button-up. But it will never get old to you. You almost find him sexier in this than in a suit. Especially when he has the cuffs rolled like he does today.

“Little Dove?” His voice is deep and scratchy.

A slight blush paints your cheeks, knowing that it’s going to be one of those days.

“Yes, sir?”

He slowly walks towards you as you lean into the mirror to blink on some mascara. He stops just a hair away from you, not touching you but close. Close enough for you to feel the heat coming off of him. He waits until you’ve put the mascara wand away, and uses his free hand to trace a line slowly down your spine.

A shiver runs through you, and you let out a small moan. Partly from the feeling of him, but mostly at the reprieve from the hot flash you’re experiencing.

“How many orgasms do you think I could give you before you beg me to stop?” He kisses the top of your left shoulder, watching your eyes widen slightly in the mirror.

Goosebumps spread across your body. If he wants to play, you’ll make it difficult for him. “Well, after the little kidnapping the other night you gave in after three.”

“This is about you giving up and not me giving in,” His free hand continues a light trail along your bare back.

“And didn’t you say you felt like you had done an intense Pilates workout the next day?” He adds teasingly.

You were hoping he’d forgotten about how you groaned as you lowered yourself into the bathtub to soak your sore muscles. Even though your hormones seemed to think you were a teenager again, your body took a little longer to recover. Joel cared for you in a way that only he could; making dinner, wrapping you in your beloved heated blanket, and gently massaging your hips and legs.

You don’t want to give up this easily so you scoff and say, “Please, old man. You’d get tired before I’d quit.”

The next two things happen so quickly that it’s over before the excited squeal leaves your lips. He spins you to face him and lifts you onto the countertop, caging you between his arms, his hands gripping the vanity on either side of you.

“Now now, Little Dove. I’d be careful who you call old.” His recently playful tone is back to a deep gravel-like command that settles right between your thighs.

“You will refer to me as sir in these moments and nothing else. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, fuck you love him like this.

He kisses down your neck towards your right breast. Pausing he adds, “Words, Little Dove,” before gently dragging your right nipple through his teeth.

You let out a desperate moan arching your back into the pain, “Yes, sir.”

Joel quickly steps back, taking his coffee cup with him. “Be a good girl today.”

+++++

You spend your workday trying not to think about Joel. You immerse yourself in your to-do list and your team gets a few projects done early and sent off for approval. You’ve almost forgotten about the morning events when you hear your phone buzz.

Joel: When I get home I want you in that little black lacy thing, Little Dove. I’m bringing home dinner.

You reply with a funny ‘yes, sir’ gif.

Joel: Oh, my sweet Little Dove. I’m almost starting to think you like it when I punish you.

You: Do your worst, I won’t tap out.

Joel: Tell me what you’re going to be doing when I get home.

You find a photo of you wearing the aforementioned ‘little black lacy thing’ and attach it to your message that says, “Wearing this, sir.”

Joel: Be kneeling beside the couch when I get home.

You: Yes, sir.

++++

The rest of your day goes by tortuously slowly, yet the drive home seemed suspiciously fast. You laugh to yourself picturing a speeding ticket in the mail and Joel’s reaction when you tell him he has to pay it since it’s his fault. Maybe you’ll ask him when he’s in a sir mood.

You hop in the shower, shave and touch up your makeup before clipping and clasping yourself into the outfit Joel loves so much. As you step back to admire yourself in the full-length mirror you realize certain squishy parts of your body don’t look great in this.

Focus on the positive, you remind yourself.

The deep v-halter of the one-piece garment accentuates your breasts, you spin to take in the low cut back and high cut cheeky bottom that highlights the globes of your ass.

The familiar sounds of Joel’s truck pulling up the driveway sends a rush of nervous and excited butterflies through your stomach. You hurry to the sitting room, grab a throw pillow from the couch and kneel.

Your eyes follow as Joel heads to the kitchen, holding a bag from your favourite sushi restaurant. He places it on the island before looking up at you with dark eyes

“Look at the ground and put your hands on your lap.” He commands.

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling as you look down and do as he says.

“Little Dove, don’t roll your eyes at me.” His voice deepens with every word, instantly setting your core on fire.

He’s silent for a moment and you can feel his eyes on you. “From now on when I say to kneel, this is how you’ll be. Understand?”

You squeeze your thighs a little tighter, breathing starting to shallow at the sound of his voice as he slips deeper into sir mode.

You reply with a breathy, “Yes sir. Sorry.”

Joel walks over and pets your head. “You look stunning like this.” He whispers, before turning and leaving you alone.

His words feel like warm honey being drizzled down your spine. No one makes you feel as desired as Joel and immediately your earlier body insecurities vanish. You can hear him moving things around the bedroom before he walks back to the kitchen but you don’t dare look up. You’re a good girl, Joel doesn’t like brats, and right now all that matters is pleasing him.

Joel sets up dinner, arranges the sushi on plates, opens the wine and lights a candle before sitting at the table, legs spread, facing you.

“Crawl to me, Little Dove.” His deep voice washes over you. Almost as if it puts you in a trance. You know your knees are going to regret this in the morning, but you’re so turned on that you don’t hesitate to crawl across the area rug and then onto the hardwood flooring Joel installed himself.

Stopping between his bare legs, his strong hand cradles your chin and tilts it up, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and tight black boxers. But it’s the sleek black remote control vibrator in his other hand that steals your attention.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He says with a soft moan, gently stroking your cheek. “Go put this in, and then come back and have dinner with me.”

He helps you to your feet and hands you the vibrator. He turns you towards the half bath off the kitchen and pats your bum gently while you walk away.

Joel has laid out everything you might need on the counter. After cleaning the toy, you push the thin fabric of your lingerie aside and slide it inside yourself. You can already feel pressure on that little spongy part inside you that Joel loves to tease. As you wash your hands you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

I can do this, you say to yourself.

As soon as you step out of the bathroom and make eye contact with Joel the toy comes to life. Your false confidence from a few seconds ago buckles along with your knees as you brace yourself on the door frame and let out a breathy gasp.

“I want you to keep count and thank me for each one, Little Dove. Understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you moan, crossing your legs and squeezing your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact.

The vibration stops, you take a few deep breaths before standing up tall and walking over to the table. Always the gentleman, he pulls out your chair and kisses the top of your head before taking his seat.

“Eat while we go over some ground rules, Little Dove.”

You don’t have to be told twice, you love sushi and you’re probably going to need your strength for the evening.

“You are going to need a safe word tonight.” Your mouth goes dry and you become accurately aware of the small remote control in his possession.

“We are going to use a colour coding system, much like traffic lights. If I ask you for a colour tonight you have three options. Green means you want to keep going,” he emphasizes the word you.

“Yellow means you need a break and will let me know when you’re ready again. Say red and we stop.” Joel pauses and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” you reply in between bites.

He picks up his wine and takes a sip before continuing softly, reaching across to grab your hand. “But baby, you can say yellow or red at any time. If you need a break or reassurance, say yellow. And if it’s too intense and you need me to stop, say red. We’ve done our research on this. But you need to know that if you say stop, or that you need a break, or even if you’re crying and saying I’m hurting you, I will not stop. Colours only. Understand?”

You nod while taking a big mouthful of wine, the nervous excitement that you’ve been feeling all day courses through your body. As your wine glass is put back on the table the vibrating starts again, stronger this time.

“You should know by now that you need to use your fucking words, Little Dove.” He says darkly.

“Yes,” you stammer. “Yes. I under….I understand, sir.”

The vibrating stops and you let out a breathy, Oh god.

You both eat your dinner and finish the wine, this man could give you whiplash with how quickly he can go from sir to family man. He asks about your day and tells you about the new apprentice he’s hired. When you both finish eating he takes the dishes to the sink. He turns to face you, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. The sleeves of his t-shirt stretch over the ropes of muscles lining his biceps.

“Little Dove, do I have your consent to make you come until you use a safe word?”

Again, the whiplash.

Your mouth goes dry as you reply with his preferred ‘yes, sir.’

The toy comes to life again, on a higher setting than the last 2 times. You lean forward so your ass is slightly off the chair to ease some of the intensity. You’re not a stranger to a vibrator, but never one that’s pushed this firmly against your g spot and your clit. The seat of your chair is clamped between your fingers as you cry out in pleasure.

“Don’t make me tie you to that fucking chair. Sit down, Little Dove.”

You do as he says, letting out a desperate moan as the hard seat presses the two ends of the u shaped toy deeper and harder against your g spot.

“Oh fuck - fuck - m’gonna…” you close your eyes and your head falls back as the white heat in your center starts to reach its breaking point.

Joel strides over to you and grabs your chin, twisting you slightly to face him. “Look at me, I want to see it when you come.”

“J-Joel,” his hand doesn’t leave your chin and he watches you with such admiration as you start to come undone.

“That’s it, Little Dove,” he whispers as he places a few kisses along your jaw towards your ear adding, “Let go for me.”

Your orgasm hits you hard, spreading from the base of your spine and out to every inch of your body. Wave after wave flows through you, intensified by the look of admiration spreading across Joel's face.

“There you go - good girl.”

Your fingers start to ache as you fight to stay seated in the chair, his wishes are your command and you’ll do anything to hear him praise you again. You squirm against the seat as overstimulation starts to take over.

“Please, sir,” you beg, “fuck! I need…I need to move.”

“So beautiful when you beg, Little Dove….count it for me” He says.

“One sir, thank you.” It comes out weak and breathy, a voice you didn’t expect after only one orgasm.

“Give me a colour, baby.” His voice is almost soothing as he torments you with the vibrator.

Current state aside, you’re not giving up or giving in after one orgasm, even if it is still coursing through you minutes later.

“Green!” You scream, shifting yourself off the chair slightly as he switches to a new vibration setting. Its intensity varies and shifts, and the anticipation of never knowing what might hit you next is a new level of wonderful torture.

Joel slides your chair out and kneels in front of you, pushing your hips back down to the chair.

“I will tie you down if you don’t stay still, Little Dove,” he growls before slamming his lips into yours.

A second orgasm tears through your body, your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you try not to move. It’s no use, the vibrations are too intense and you buck your hips up while your head falls back breaking the kiss.

The kitchen fills with your cries of ecstasy. Somehow you manage to count and thank him for the second one before he turns off the toy and pulls you to your feet. You grip his strong forearms to steady yourself, your pussy still fluttering against the weight of the vibrator.

“You have five seconds before I turn this on high, Little Dove. Unless you can make it to the bedroom before that.”

Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, but your competitive side kicks in and you sprint down the hallway as he loudly and authoritatively counts to five. You almost make it through the bedroom when you feel the most intense vibration hit your swollen g spot. You stumble forward, folding your upper body onto the bed. Your brain scrambles to catch up to your body as it processes that you’re not in pain but instead in a state of agonizing pleasure.

Joel walks up behind you, pressing himself against your ass. “You’re doing such a good job for me,” he praises before landing a hard slap on your right ass cheek.

Your body is suspended in that moment right before you come. You almost feel like you’re floating and the pleasure is so intense that you can’t even make a noise as you clench the bedsheet in your fists to try to ground yourself.

He uses his body to pin you down, folding over you and whispering “Give me a colour,” in your ear.

“Green” comes out in a shaky whisper.

“That’s my girl.” He says proudly, biting your shoulder blade.

Again it’s his words that do it, my girl, and you finally tip over the edge and tremble underneath him. Joel kisses and sucks the skin of your upper back, every inch of your body feels encompassed by him and crying out for relief, but you’re not giving in.

“Ah - fuuuuck…” you feel like this orgasm has been going on for hours.

“I wish you could see how good you look right now.”

“Stop. P-please. Stop,” you beg in between gasps of air.

As you come down from your high the vibrating slows to a small tickle, not enough to make you come again but enough to remind you that it’s there.

Can someone die from an orgasm?

“Take off your clothes,” Joel growls in your ear, slapping your right ass cheek as he peels himself off of you. “I’m not stopping until you use the safe word, Little Dove.”

He pulls his shirt off and watches as you undo the clasps and clips of your lingerie and slide it off with shaky hands.

As you lay on the bed you say, “I’m not a fucking quitter, sir.”

Joel smirks, laughing through his nose a little as he wraps a silk cuff around each ankle, spreading your legs apart for him. “How many are we at so far?”

As he cuffs your wrists you reply. “Three. Thank you, sir.”

He kisses your forehead as he slowly removes the vibrator. “Fuck me,” he says, “look at this mess, such a good girl for me.”

You close your eyes and let the praise wash over you like a warm bath. Joel shifts his body between your legs and places two little kisses on your swollen clit making you whimper and suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

He uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit making you come instantly with a whimpering ‘four, thank you, sir,’ at the end.

Joel doesn’t stop, switching to use his tongue while keeping the same pace and pressure as you come again.

“Ah - five, thank you, sir!”

….and again….”fuck, six. Thank you, sir.”

...and again….”s-seven - oh god - thank y-you, sir.”

Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as a cool liquid drizzles down your pussy. You gasp at the new sensation, eyes shooting to his face.

“Stay still, Little Dove.”

As he runs his fingers up and down your pussy, the lube turns warm and tingly, heightening his touches. Joel draws circles on your clit with his thumb, pursing his lips and blowing cool air. The warmth turns icy cold, and when he stops blowing, heat rushes to your pussy, pulling another orgasm from you.

Yes, I’m certain someone can die from an orgasm.

“Count, Little Dove.”

A whine escapes your lips as you try to tug your legs together. His thumb has slowed down but it’s all becoming too much. “Eight. I can’t anymore, sir.”

He blows cool air again and the heat rushing has you keening all over again.

“Please, Joel. I can’t. Please.” Tears spring from your eyes.

“You’re ok. You can do this, baby.” Cool air hits your pussy again and you come apart. “Good girl. So gorgeous. Count it for me, Little Dove.”

“Nine. N-nine,” your eyes slam shut as he pulls away from you. “T-thank you, sir.”

Before you’ve even finished thanking him, he slides his middle finger inside you, lightly massaging your g spot that’s still so sensitive from the vibrator. He pushes one of his strong hands down on your mound as he torturously works you toward your tenth orgasm.

“No…please. Sir, I,” you gasp as you try to pull free.

“I can’t,” the pleasure is almost painful at this point as the pressure from your arousal builds. He knows your close, he’s been dying to make you squirt again after the other night.

“Color,” Joel says tenderly, slipping a second finger inside you and hooking the forward.

You swallow hard against your sore and scratchy throat. You whine ‘green’, as you arch your back to try to ease the intense mixture of pain, pleasure and pressure that you’re experiencing.

“Stay still, Little Dove,” Joel pushes harder on your lower belly. “Give me number ten. Show me, baby. Show me how good this feels.”

You swear that everything stops, including your heart and time, as you fall apart under his touch and gush all over his hand. The walls of your pussy are clenching around Joel’s fingers and you can feel a puddle forming underneath you. You think you hear Joel praising you, but the sound is muffled by your gasps and moans. If you lived in an apartment your neighbours might think you were being tortured based on the loud cries coming out of you. Joel is sure that he’ll be making you a hot toddy to ease your throat later, but right now he’s hyper-focused on getting you through this orgasm.

As you start to come down his hand slows, “relax, baby.”

“Red. S-stop. Fuck Joel, red.”

Joel gently removes his fingers, shifting quickly to undo your restraints. You’re shivering and exhausted as he pulls you into his arms and away from the soaked sheets.

Everything Joel Miller does is done with the utmost care and attention, including aftercare. Your heated blanket is already warmed up, tucked near the headboard. He pulls it over you and places a featherlight kiss on your sweaty forehead.

“I got you, darlin’. Shhh. I got you.” He holds you tighter as you melt into him.

After a few moments of silence, you tilt your face up to look at him. “Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You bite your bottom lip to stop a smile. “Ya, that was - amazing.”

You laugh a little and tuck back into his chest. “Are you sure? I’m so proud of you for using a safe word, but I need to ensure I didn’t hurt you.”

You shake your head and fight to stay awake. “No…you didn’t” you mumble sleepily, stifling a yawn. “I’m great - just one minute…then I’ll do something for you.”

Joel laughs softly and tilts your face up to his. He presses his lips to yours gently. “That was for me, Little Dove. Sleep for a little bit, I’ll wake you up for electrolytes and food.”

The warmth of your blanket takes over, you whisper an ‘I love you’ just as you drift off, thanking whoever brought this beautiful man into your life.

++++++++++

Taglist: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut

#joel miller #pedrohub #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel tlou #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller smut #daddy joel #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #dom!joel miller #soft!joel miller

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adventuringblind · 8 months

Text

Ride

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: Smut

Request: yes ;) and my request box is open ;););)

Summary: Two oblivious boys and an enthused female find their love for each other through her sport.

Warnings: Dom/Sub dynamics, mentions of past relationships not working out, feminization if you squint, humiliation, overstimulation, PinV sex, anal sex, oral (both m and f receiving), throat fucking

Notes: gonna go jump into holy water or something. This is absolutely filthy.

Masterlist

She wasn't sure how both Oscar and Lando could be so horribly oblivious. They like each each other and they both like her. Yet neither of them know either of those facts, it seems.

She'd known about Oscar's crush on his teammate since he first introduced her to him. The Australian would not stop staring at him. Then, when Oscar turned away, Lando would stare at him. And she was left shaking her head at them both.

She confronted him about it that same night when they were alone.

"You have a crush." She says with a teasing smile.

"What! No- he's my teammate! I can't like - I don't know... do that?" The poor boy is as red as a tomatoe, and she can't stop laughing.

"You should ask him out!"

"I highly doubt he'd be into that. Pluse, he likes you more. I swear he's your number one fan." Oscar reasons.

She's not in formula on. Instead, she is a motor gp rider. They have four wheels she has two. Earlier, Lando had gotten giddy and asked for her autograph. "I feel like he might be, and we'll never know if we don't try."

"How about we pick this conversation up later, and I reward you for doing so well in your race today."

She knows exactly the games he's playing. The worst part is it's working. Oscar has successfully turned her brain into a complying ball of mush with a single sentence.

Looks like she'll have to do things the hard way.

Her race in Silverstone ended up at the beginning of the F1 summer break. Meaning: Oscar and Lando are able to come watch and support her.

Lando could not be both more excited and nervous at the same time.

McLaren had made it possible to do some PR with her. Supposedly, her team thought it would also be good publicity for them and said they could come early on Thursday to film some things.

And now Lando has to get onto a bike with her. It's not her bike, but something similar that goes fast.

His body is vibrating with excitement. He'd never gotten to do this before. He was a little shocked when Oscar suggested he go with her, claiming that he'd gotten to do it a few times already.

The girl hops onto the bike first and gets herself settled. Then she motions for Lando to come join her. The friction that happens when he gets himself settled makes him want to whine. Despite all the protective gear, it's horrendous rubbing up against her back.

"Lando, you're going to have put your arms around my waist." She giggles. He's barely touching her right now, and if he wasn't wearing a helmet, then everyone would be privy to his blush.

"You ready?"

"Born ready!"

She takes off down the pitlane. He can tell she's being more cautious than how she usually drives. Probably accounting for the fact there's new weight and balance to think about. And yet, the speed at which she's driving sends Lando into a state of exhilaration.

They talk back and for a bit. But for the most part, Lando let's her focus on keeping them upright.

The friction of their body's and the vibration of the bike sends his head into a whirlwind. He has to will strength into the lower regions of his body, or he thinks he might actually get off on this alone.

The ride is over before that can happen, and he's so thankful for it. He's not sure Oscar would be pleased if he came while rubbing up against the Australians girlfriend.

They hope of the bike and Oscar comes to great them. What Lando was not expecting was the look he received. Brown eyes size him up, inspecting every inch if his body.

Before he knows what's happening, the female tugs on his arm and drags her back to her private room.

Everything is moving too fast. They take off their helmets, and the girl slams the door shut behind her. Only to get slammed into it herself by the Aussie.

Lando would wonder what he'd gotten himself into if he wasn't so damn turned on by the sight of it.

"I did it." She says with a proud smile. "Told you he'd get all worked up."

"I'll have to reward you for it later." Oscar purrs into her ear.

Lando looks back and forth between the two. Why had they wanted to get him worked up?

His eyes stay trained on Oscar as hel pulls himself away from the female. Those deep brown eyes once again scan every inch of his body. Lando can't help but blush at the action. To say he's embarrassed at the very obvious hard-on is an understatment. Yet the more Oscar continues, the more turned on he is.

Oscar closes the gap between the two. His hands find Lando's waist. "You seem to have a bit of an issue." His thigh presses into the now painful bulge in Lando's pants. The Brit yelps in surprise at the new feeling. "I'll give you a choice. If you want, you can come by our apartment tonight, and we'll help you out. Or you can walk away, and we never speak of this again."

She'd been very giddy when Lando accepted the proposal. Oscar is now admitting she was right and plans on rewarding her well for it tonight.

She knows Oscar's wants and needs by heart. He likes control. It's obvious in the way he holds himself. He's always in control of himself.

The more control of the things he has around him, the better he feels. This includes her. And she knows just how to push to get him to feel as though he has either maintained or created said atmosphere.

Tonight was going to he completely different. They'd had a few different partners before. Not just for sex but also for everything else. They just didn't stick around.

The problem usually was with the dynamic. The couple females that had joined them had broken things off mutually. The males, however, did not like Oscar's lustful desire for that feeling of having everything exactly where he wanted it.

She'd ended up getting hurt on multiple occasions in their desperate attempt to assert their dominance over her. It became aggravating that so many saw them as a way to fulfill their own fantasies and played a role to get into their bedroom. So, they stopped looking.

Then Oscar met Lando, and everything came crashing down.

They'd talked about things before they'd separated for the afternoon. Oscar had been very clear about what would probably happen, and there were a few boundaries set. It's better to do it before he comes over, so he has a chance to think and doesn't feel pressured to do anything.

The doorbell rings through the flat. Lando is right on time. She bounds to the door and swings it open. The Brit jumps in surprise when he sees her.

It probably didn't help that she was already gone. Willing to comply and do as told. Neither of them spoke as she grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

He ploped down and shrunk in on himself. His eyes looked to her expectantly. "Are you going to sit?"

She shakes her head no. Her place is on her knees next to the armchair. Her hands folded neatly behind her back.

She throws Lando a reasuring smile as another set of footsteps enters the space.

"Thought I heard someone come in." Oscar sounds warm and gentle. His voice lulling her into a sense of peace as he sits himself in the armchair across from the Brit.

She leans into his leg, his fingers run comfortingly along her scalp. "You can relax, darling. We're not doing anything yet." She sighs at the words. Her legs then fold into a criss cross position as she continues to let herself relax. "You can relax to Lando. I asked if you wanted this because it seemed like you did. We're not going to do anything you don't want to.

The Brit visibly relaxs. The air is much less tense now.

"How do you feel about letting her help you with the issue she helped create earlier." He quirks his eyebrows.

"Yeah, uh, that sounds - that sounds great." Lando nods his head eagerly.

She crawls in between his legs and unbuttons his jeans. They make eye contact. Her hands tug on the waistband to ask permission to take them off. He lifts his hips, and together, they manage both his jeans and boxers off.

He looks painfully hard. And she can't help but stare at his very pretty looking cock. She licks a few stripes from top to bottom. "You look very pretty, Lan." He shivers and moans as she hollows her cheeks and works her way down him.

Oscar slips around behind him. His fingers nimbly pull off the Brits shirt. His hands run down the sides of his body. "Green means good to go. Yellow means to slow down and talk. Red means complete stop. Color?"

"Green! Fuck I'm so green." Lando all but shouts. Then, the Aussie reaches further and takes a handful of her hair. The gentle tug pulls a whine from her. He stops her and pulls her off of him.

"Go ahead and fuck her mouth Lan, she'll tap your thigh if she needs to stop." He slams her mouth back down onto Lando. His grip held her in place, and the Brit slams his hips in and out of her mouth. The tip bruises the back of her throat, and she focuses on not gagging.

She can tell Lando is close by the way his hips stutter. "I'm close, fuck, mouth feels so good." He pants.

"Go ahead, Lan. Finish down her throat."

She runs her tongue through the slit and then her mouth is coated in the warm and salty substance. Lando lets out a string of profanities and his muscles contract.

He collapses back down on the couch. His chest heaving to regain air. She pulls off of him and wipes her mouth off.

"You do you both feel? Want to bring this somewhere more comfortable?"

The mix of exploring hands and wet kisses took over everything. Her and Lando had lost all their clothing, and Oscar is down to his boxers.

"Fucking hell, you're both so pretty. So good for me." Oscar leans down to whisper in her ear. "Want you to eddge him. Can you do that for me?" Obviously, she can. The rapid nod of her says everything.

Oscar then pushes Lando down to his knees. His body towers above the Brit. The Aussie grabs his chin tightly and forces his gaze onto him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you like being embarrassed. Are you really that much of a slut that even shameful things turn you on?"

A high-pitched whine leaves Lando's mouth. She takes that as her cue to drop back behind him. She runs her fingers along his torso. His cock already hard again. He whines again as she just barely touches the head.

"Gonna put your whiny mouth to use." Oscar discards the last of his clothing. He grips Lando by his curls and coos at him. "Hand on my thigh. Three taps if you need to stop." Lando complies and takes a deep breath in before Oscar is slamming into his throat.

She begins stroking the Brit at a similar pace. She deliberately slows down and speeds up as she reads the signals from his body.

Oscar is pratically vibrating. His deep gurreral moans and occasional praise signal he's getting close. His knees are becoming increasingly weaker. And soon, he's barely giving any warning as he spills down Lando's throat. His legs buckle, and his hands grip Lando for support.

The Aussie pulls out of Lando and catches his breath. "What a filthy mouth you have, Lan!"

The female is still stroking Lando, and it's obvious how bad he wants it from the way he's begging. "Please- can I, fuck, can I cum again?"

"Not yet." Oscar signals for her to stop, and she back away completely. She pouts at the lack of warmth Lando's body was providing her with.

Now, they actually fumble into bed. The softness of the mattress envelopes her body. Her legs are being spread by the Brit, who has found himself on his stomach and a pillow sitting comfortably beneath him. His teeth nibble at the insides of her thighs, and she moans at the stimulation she's finally getting.

A slap echoes through the room as Oscar's palm lands on the Brits ass. He bites down into her in surprise, causing her to yelp. The smug smirk of the Australians face tells her this is exactly what he's been fantasizing about for months now.

She can't really see everything that's going on, and words sound muffled to her cloudy brain.

"You can cum when you make her finish on your tongue." And oh how grateful she is to hear that. The lack of needing permission gives her the freedom to just lose herself. The feeling of Lando's warm tongue lapping where she needs it most sends shivers of pleasure coursing through her spine.

"Gonna fuck your pretty pussy now Lan, is that okay?"

The Brit detaches from her and wails for him to continue. The vibrations from his moans send another wave of lust crashing over her.

It feels heavenly. Watching Oscar snap his hips into Lando and getting to feel it by proxy every time they move.

Her eyes roll back. Her spine arches. She can feel the inevitable fall of the edge as she inches closer to the ledge.

Everything is fast. The heavy pants and moans fill the space of the room. And then her mind goes blank.

Her mouth falls open as she finds the everwhelming ecstasy filling her veins. She tries to push herself away, but Lando's grip on her legs is strong and determined as he wails in his own pleasure.

Oscar follows with them. His body nearly topples onto Lando.

They are panting and trying to catch their breath. Oscar places sloppy kisses down Lando's spine and whispers praises to him. "What do you say we reward our girl now, Lan? She's done an excellent job getting us here, and I think she deserves it."

She's not quite sure how she found herself in the positions she did. They used every advantage they had. Slammed into at every possible angle.

Oscar used his words to keep her exactly where he wanted her. Degrading and vile words leave his lips only to be followed by sweet praises. She is so deep that he manages to pull his title from her mouth like a prayer.

Lando maps her body with his hands and his teeth. His tongue runs across every area he can get to. He leaves hickeys in every place they won't be seen.

She list count at one point. The never-ending stream of pleasure clouding her mind and corroding her judgment. She lets them use her and takes everything she's given.

Her body twitches, and her heart beats rapidly as everything comes to slow.

She doesn't move. She can't move. But the boys do, and she almost cries as it's away from her.

She panics as Lando starts collecting his things. "Where are you going? You're not leaving, are you?"

"After this, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried." He smiles.

Oscar comes back freshened up and with water for everyone. "We should probably talk about this."

"How about we talk later and cuddle now."

"I second that."

"I agree, but first." Oscar looks directing at Lando. It's much different from the earlier lust. "We really like you, Lando, both of us. We want you to stay for more than just this."

Lando looks like he might cry. Instead of tears, though, he smiles and kisses them both sweetly. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He flops down on the bed. And pulls them both in. "Now I'm thinking movie and snacks after that. Did a number on me, Osc. Seriously!"

They all laugh at the at the Brits antics. The atmosphere now relaxed as they bask in their newfound love for each other.

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crowdedimagines · 3 months

Text

Roadkill - Aaron Hotchner Imagine

Based around the season 4 episode 23 titled Roadkill! I am going through a rewatch right now and just watched this one!! Also I am trying to stick to the storyline of the episode, but obviously things will be a little different in how they play out 🤩 3.6K

"How do you feel about Oregon?" JJ asks immediately after I pick up on the third ring.

"I have a feeling I would like Oregon a lot more when it isn't 3:00a.m." I tease, sitting up in bed, already knowing whatever she's calling for is going to be bad enough to to call us in this early.

"Can you be in to the office to brief in an hour? Wheels are up around 4:30."

"I'll be there!"

We both get off the phone so we can pack our go bags and get the day started, although earlier for both of us then intended. I manage to take a fast shower by the time I get out my phone is ringing again, this time it's unit leader Aaron Hotchner.

"I assume you've been informed that we have a case and we're meeting shortly." Hotch has his stern, yet tired voice on.

"Yep, showered squeaky clean. I just need some coffee and I will be on my way!" I smile, wringing out the moisture that's still in my hair and put the phone on speaker to set it down on the bathroom counter.

"I actually just made too much, I'm on my way in now. I could bring you coffee." He offers.

I pause in my actions, surprised by the offer. Although I would've been a lot more shocked a couple weeks ago. When I started with the team Hotch was going through a divorce, but in recent weeks there's been a shift in our dynamic and I'm not sure I'm dreaming it up. It all started a couple weeks back when I dropped off some baked goods after a rare long weekend away from work for him and Jack since it was his weekend to have him. They invited me to stay and I spent the rest of the afternoon with the boys. By the end of the night I was calling him by his first name instead of 'Hotch' which was a new development. Ever since it's been small gestures and looks that tell me something is different.

I've been a part of the BAU for a couple years, growing in confidence and skill the more cases I get under my belt. I spent four years in the military as a designated marksman before continuing my training with the FBI, which lead me to the Counterterrorism Division, and then to the BAU.

"That sounds great actually." I grin. Bringing me coffee to work is another new thing. Aaron has been chattier, smiling more, but coffee is a new ball park.

"Alright, I will be in around twenty. Drive safe."

I mutter back a "you too" before we both hang up. As I make my way into the office I'm the first to reach the bullpen, I came a little early once I knew Aaron was going to be in. A traveling mug is sitting on my desk and I take a long sip. It's still hot, and it's exactly how I always make it. It's also the traveling mug he almost always can be seen with. I set my bag down by my desk before climbing up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"Good morning." I knock lightly on his open door, "Thank you for this. It's perfect."

He looks up from the folder in front of him and the frown leaves his face.

"I'm glad."

I take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. It'll be fifteen minutes before the rest of the team joins us. Hotch begins to fill me in on some of the details without going too much into it. We still have to brief as a team.

"I don't think I've ever heard of a vehicle being used as the weapon." I surmise.

"It's highly rare. I've never seen a case likely this first hand." Aaron admits and we discuss a few more aspects of the case.

Eventually the rest of the team trickles in and after some light conversation I go back to my desk. Garcia comes in stomping directly to my desk.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Kevin is looking into a working a secret job and I wont even know where he'll be!" She gushes.

"Slow down, he what?" I spin around in my chair. Garcia fills me in on the details of the job and exactly what he had said to her. The worry on her face is permanent.

"Don't worry yet. He hasn't gotten the job, and if he's offered, you don't even know if he'll take it! Lets just wait to worry once we have something to worry about."

Penelope nods agreeing with my words before moving onto Morgan's desk to do the same and I smile and shake my head. JJ pulls us all into the conference room.

"An unsub that kills with his car." Emily states, "I haven't seen that before."

"Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon." JJ replies, displaying pictures on the screen in front of us.

"Two victims in the last twelve days." Hotch adds, "First was hit on a morning jog and the second was a woman stranded after her car broke down."

"Both female victims, but completely different age groups." I speak up, "The first victim was 23 and the second was 43."

"Maybe they aren't connected." Morgan thinks out loud.

JJ pulls up more pictures and explains that both victims were backed over after they were hit. No chance of accident and the same tread marks at both scenes.

"With where these wounds are, the worst of the blow is high on the bodies." I comment looking through the file, "It has to be a truck or SUV to match these wound patterns."

"See if Garcia can follow that. Try tracking makes and models." Aaron directs.

"There should be significant front end damage to the vehicle." Spencer chimes in.

"Unless our unsub is smart enough and skilled enough to cover his tracks." I begin, "Somehow I don't think it'll be as easy as finding a damaged truck."

It's a five hour flight from DC all the way to Bend but thankfully it gives us all the opportunity to rest up again. By the time we land we can go straight to the police station.

"I think it's safe to say our unsub is male." I read over the case file, thinking out loud with Aaron. This is something new too, we often brainstorm together and work well to get the other thinking outside the box.

"I agree." Hotch nods, "Given what we know about aggressive driving and road rage."

"And the fact that men have an unnatural bond with their cars." Emily laughs. JJ chimes in to agree, which turns into Morgan disagreeing before Rossi is also adding to it.

"I think he has to be overcompensating. Why else have a need for a truck that big." I guess.

"Possibly." Spencer comments, "If the unsub is physically defective the car not only gives the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield."

"A way for him to avoid physical contact?" Hotch asks.

"He wants power and control of his victims." Prentiss shutters, "Female victims. It almost reads like an assault profile."

"I wanna know why he isn't getting personal with it then. If this is how he assaults women, what if there's something that prevents him from going a more traditional route. It's possible he's disabled." I suggest.

Hotch tells Garcia to look into it to see if anything recent could be a trigger and to look at the people surrounding the victims. Morgan and Rossi head to the highway to get a feel for it and see what they can get from it from the second victim's scene. Hotch and I head to where the jogger was hit.

"Not a lot of people jog here. It's a physically demanding hike." The sheriff informs gesturing to the trail.

"Well, she was a triathlete." I remind.

"The assailant drove behind her and ran her down right here." The sheriff walks us in to where the red stained gravel remains.

"She was jogging alone? Any woman would know if a car was following her up the trail. Her intuition would've been driving her crazy. She would get off the trail or call for help."

"What if he was already here waiting." Hotch agrees, taking in the scene, "What if she was the reason he was here and it wasn't random. He was waiting for her specifically."

"That would mean we underestimated him. It wasn't a random attack, it was planned and vindictive.

The team meets back at the station to go over what we've discovered. The second victim's husband comes in and recalls seeing a large black truck parked by their house giving us something. This confirms that he's targeting and stalking specific individuals.

"Ready be done for the night?" Aaron asks, he peeks his head into the conference room that only I occupy at this point. The rest of the team has already gone to the hotel to call it a night, but Aaron was still talking with the husband and I was just pouring over people in the area that raised some of Garcia's flags based on what we know so far.

"I suppose." I close the file I had been reading and rub at my eyes.

"It'll still be there tomorrow." He reminds.

"I know, the sooner the better though." That's something I don't need to remind him on. We both know it all too well. With an unsub this aggressive we know he isn't stopping anytime soon.

The drive to the hotel is short and comfortably quiet. Neither Aaron or myself have the energy to discuss anything as we're going on a fifteen hour day.

"Goodnight, Y/n." Aaron carried my bag in from the car to the foot of my bed in my room, even with multiple reassurances that I could carry it just fine. I give him a soft knowing smile before he leaves for his own room.

The next morning it's discovered that the unsub sabotaged the second victims car in order to strand them. He's very focused and well planned.

"We need to figure out why he's picking these women." Hotch states, "What makes them a target and links them together."

"Road rage, maybe they cut him off at some point?" I question, "Also how does he have the time to stalking these women to know their routines, sabotage a car, park and wait."

"Roughly eight percent of the United States is unemployed." Reid rattles off.

"Including someone who could be disabled and lives off of a pension." I remind from my earlier guess."

"Have Garcia look into it." Hotch states before walking away and I smile.

"Pretty girl is on top of it this case." Morgan teases with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I roll my eyes.

"Maybe it's something to do with her getting the case early and going over it with Hotch before our team briefing." Reid says with his nose already in a new file. I can feel my face turn a shade of red.

"Pretty girl is getting extra credit!" Prentiss joins in happy to tease, even adopting Morgan's typical nickname for me and Penelope.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about. I simply got in early and we were both at the office." I take a sip of my coffee, looking for any distraction, reaching out to grab a file for myself to ready through. I'm really glad that I didn't bring Hotch's travel mug in from the hotel, I still have it and I almost used it today. That definitely wouldn't go unnoticed with the people surrounding me.

Thankfully the team lets us move on and were able to brainstorm some more. Unfortunately it doesn't take long for JJ to interrupt to tell us there's been a third victim.

"Impact nearly cut him in two." The sheriff explains.

"Male victim?" I question as we arrive on the scene. The unsub hit him in a parking garage, pinning him between the truck and elevator doors. "He's getting more aggressive."

Cigarettes butts are discovered where the truck was parked in waiting. All of them stripped of the filter showing signs that he's military.

"Guys I think I know what ties the victims together." Reid interrupts, "All of the victims drove two door red coupes."

Garcia was able to look into car accidents that left someone injured enough to the point that he can't kill traditionally. He holds the person responsible for his accident for killing his loved one and his own disability. There's nearly twenty five people to still filter out off of the specifications we gave her.

"Wait you guys I think I found it." I sit up from the most recent file that had red flags, "Ian and Sheila Coakley crashed while driving home from Napa Valley on route 7 around midnight. It appeared their car was run off the road. His wife died at the scene."

"And Ian?" Rossi asks.

"He survived although he suffered a spinal cord injury."

Morgan and Prentiss go to his doctor to verify some information while we try to track down Ian. His house foreclosed after the accident.

"Track the parts for his specific truck. He's been doing his own repairs so they have to be sent somewhere." Rossi suggests to Garcia.

"Rossi gets a gold star!" Garcia sings, "He's having the parts drop shipped, I'm sending you guys the address."

"Hey, what do I get for knowing he would be disabled?" I jest, I called that from the plane.

"Nothing but my love, sugar." Garcia says before hanging up.

"I don't have a gold star, but well done Y/Ln." Aaron nods.

Arriving at the home Ian had been renting we find it empty but lots of surveillance photos of the victims and one other person who hasn't been harmed.

"Send this to Garcia now, we need to know who this is." Rossi hands me the picture. I send it to her and she's able to run his plate from the image.

It doesn't take her long to find him and contact his home, where she finds out that he's out biking with a group doing a thirty mile loop.

"Y/n, you're with me. We'll take the north side, Morgan and Rossi you start south and we'll meet in the middle." I quickly get in the passenger side of the SUV and Aaron takes off.

The biking club that target is in covers a lot of milage as Aaron speeds through the dirt road trying so hard to meet the group before the unsub does. Eventually we're closing in, but unfortunately the black truck is ahead of us and gaining on the bikers faster than we're gaining on him.

"Hold on." Aaron takes a risk by cutting Ian off before he can clip the mass of bicyclists. He does this by driving the front left corner of our car into the back right of his truck.

The airbags go off and were spun around from the impact.

"Y/n." Aaron calls. He says it a second time with more panic when I don't answer.

"I'm okay." I groan. The unsub is attempting to back his truck out of the ditch we're both stuck in to finish his mission. He took a much less impactful hit from our collision. I unclip my seatbelt and swing open my door, shattered glass falling from my lap as I stand up.

"Y/n, wait." Aaron instructs, he pulls hard on his seatbelt. It seems like he's stuck from the accident, but the worry on his face is only for me. I give him a look to say I've got this, while he continues to pull at his jammed seatbelt.

"Ian Coakley." I call out, and the man looks over to me briefly. It registers on his face that I am holding my gun and it's aimed for him, he has tears in his eyes.

"This is for Sheila." he floors it heading straight for the group that's waiting after witnessing the accident.

I plant my feet and aim for the back window of the truck, hoping to hit Ian's shoulder. Enough to stop him in his tracks before can harm anyone else without killing him. I've done enough killing myself over the years, and even with all he's done he's a man suffering with the grief of accidentally killing his wife.

The bullet leaves my gun with a loud crack, shattering the back window of the truck. He swerves but not enough to take him off the road. I let out a breath and fire again, this time sending a bullet into the back of his chair and sending his car off the road again to be stopped by a tree. I let out a huff of exhaustion from the impact leaning against the SUV.

Morgan and Rossi pull up and stop to get out and help Aaron and I after seeing our totaled SUV.

"Go" I wave them to keep driving to the unsub to see if he's ok and they do. Aaron manages to get out of the car finally, I hear Morgan call out to radio in an ambulance.

"He's still alive." Rossi shouts to us referring to Ian, they have him laying down now while applying pressure to his wound. The top of his shoulder which shouldn't be fatal, I sigh in relief.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks finally rounding the back of the car to join me where I stand, he steadies himself. I nod, finally putting my gun away, feeling how stiff my body is.

Aaron fully ignores my nod, taking my head in his hands and pulling my eyelid open to check for signs of a brain bleed. He wipes at my forehead, pulling back his hand with blood on it. Maybe we were hit harder than I thought. Damn airbags.

"I think you have a concussion-" He states, "and you might need stitches."

The worry on his face is deep. I can feel the guilt radiating off of him, he was the one driving. He's the one that chose to hit the unsub's truck.

"I'm okay!" I reassure him, placing my hands on top of his that still rest on my head. This is crossing a new line. He's never touched my face, and I've never touched his hands like this.

"I shouldn't have done that. It was reckless."

"I'm glad you did." I disagree, "If we had waited any longer he would've been able to get his last victim. There's an entire biking club alive right now because of you."

This reminder seems to help slightly, he looks over my shoulder where the crowd remains. I pull him in for a hug, both of us shaking slightly from the adrenaline. After a while we pull apart, the rest of the team arrives as well as a couple ambulances. One takes Ian away immediately, escorted with two police officers as well.

"It took two shots? You're losing your touch." Morgan teases, thowing an arm around my shoulder that makes me wince a little. My phenomenal aim has always been a touchy subject with him, not liking being second.

"I'm concussed and he was driving fast." I defend, fully knowing how whiny I sound.

"Statically of our entire team Y/n would be the only one likely to have made that shot with the variable speed that Ian Croakley was traveling at." Spencer chimes in.

"I knew you were my favorite for a reason." I grin pulling Spence in for a hug effectively shaking off Morgan's arm.

"Yeah, whatever." Morgan shrugs, ruffling the hair in top of Spencer's head.

"Ma'am, you really need to get looked at." The emt reminds, interrupting our conversation. I leave the group and look over to see Aaron sitting on the back of one of the ambulances. We both finish getting evaluated, thankfully nothing too serious that we have to delay our flight home.

"You were right about the concussion." I grin walking up to Aaron as the sheriff walks off.

"And it would seem the stitches too." He reaches out again, thumb hovering over the threading sticking out of my forehead.

"Yeah, should make fore a pretty badass scar." I tease.

"I'm sure it will." He smiles, a real smile. The Aaron smile that I have seen so rarely, but more frequent lately. The plane ride back home is quiet, everyone drained, Aaron and I just flat out sore. By the time we get back to the BAU, Aaron sends everyone home saying the paperwork can wait for the following day. Everyone clears out and he goes back up to his office.

"Not following your own advice?"I question, walking into his office. I make my way round to his side of the desk and lean back on it. The edge of my thigh just barely meeting the outside of his arm from where he sits.

"Just wrapping up a few things before." He sets down his papers, his eyes raking all the way up me from toe to head, we both pretend I don't notice.

"You know, since I have a concussion they said I need to be under observation. No sleeping, crazy delusions, slipping into comas that sort of thing. You know anyone who wants to stay awake with me?"

"I can think of someone" He smirks, "I can put on a pot of coffee."

I pull out the to go mug he had brought my coffee in a few days ago out of my tote and hold it out to him.

"Take me home Aaron."

AHHHHHHHH i hope yall like this! i haven't written in forever to it was honestly just fun to do! :)

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