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annetictac · 6 months

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Like I used to watch you sleep - Chapter 7

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 7

It’s little less than half an hour before midnight when they find each other again. She had been dancing with Rachel and for a little even with Lando to the metallic electronic music that reigned the dance floor. She had found anonymity between the crowded dancing bodies, the predominant darkness and eventual light flashes. Rachel was happy jumping and swaying her hips to the music. Anna was hot and thirsty, with little signs she told her friend and Lando she’d be out for a bit. Rachel’s arm around Lando’s neck told her she might not be missed. Mikah was nowhere to be found.

Anna found Max leaning in a corner alone, tending the last remains of a drink, stealing glances to the crowd where he imagined she was still dancing. Instead of the drink she had been craving she decided to indulge into catching him alone.

“Hey there stranger,” she greeted as she held her hair up while fanning herself with her free hand. He startled for a second, not expecting her.

“Gave it all on the dance floor?” he retorts quickly gaining back his composure, glancing the long lines of her neck. She laughs easily, something flutters within him.

“Didn’t see you there though,” she adds brushing her hair down to the side. “Did you forget the little moves I taught you?” she asks cheekily.

“Were you looking for me?” Max counters not answering hers, stepping a bit closer.

“Maybe,” she answers in a singsong voice, glancing up at him, her hands feeling fidgety. They stare directly shamelessly into each other’s eyes. And Anna folds, when she begins to feel the blush covering her face. “Congratulations are in order I’ve been told,” she offered, not wanting the awkwardness of silence to settle between them. When they were together, she had found much comfort in his silence, because then she could read him like a magazine. Now she dreaded it, they weren’t that comfortable. Yet, something within her added. He nodded without giving much, like he would often do when he was uncomfortable. Yet his eyes never left her, studying her. She had to force herself for the tenth time, to stop a hand from brushing a wild lock from his eyes. “I wanted to call you,” she heard herself say, “... to congratulate you”. His eyes had been scanning her fidgety hands, turned back to hers surprised at the admission. She smiled sheepishly, perhaps she had learned something from his boldness.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked encouraged by her brashness, eyes curious. He felt himself return to his 22-year-old self, looking for her opinion and approval of nothing and everything.

“I thought … you might not want to hear from me,” she continued, eyes on each other. She hadn’t drunk that much to blame the alcohol of her honesty.

“I didn’t for a while after we-” he confessed nodding, eyes dropping without ending the phrase, his eyes revealing that he had been as burned as her for the sudden break-up. “I did though,” he added, noticing she had left for a moment a flash of something he didn’t like in her eyes passing through, wanting to bring her back to him. She frowned confused. “I wanted to hear from you when I won,” he continued, gaining a slow grin making its way over her face.

“Then congratulations Max, I was - am - very happy for you,” she said fondly, her hand squeezing his arm, eyes locked together. Someone accidentally pushed her forward as the crowd began to assemble near the screen that kept the count down. Max let something slip in dutch, as he turned them, arms protectively around her waist. “That wasn’t very nice” she said as she helped herself with his arm to settle, not letting him go. He laughed openly, slight blush covering his cheeks.

“Have you been practicing?” he asked, leaning into her ear, leaving goosebumps. She laughed back, taking a little of distance, to be able to see his face, hoping her blush could be attributed to something other than him.

“I could never forget all the curse words you’ve taught me,” she says back nudging him fondly with her elbow. It’s strange.

“I heard also that you might make an appearance at the races this season?” he continued, leaning again closer to her, his arm sliding around her waist softly, more confidently as he notices she’s not rejecting to be this close. She nodded, eyes slipping to his lips.

“They’ll announce next week I think,” she replied absently, her mind taking her back to how well his lips had worked with hers. For some reason she can’t seem to gather why she had wanted to stay in the dance floor before.

“Lucky us,” he added leaning closer, his lips touching softly the shell of her ear, as his arm surrounding her waist slightly tightens his hold on her. One of her hands has made its way over his chest. His whole focus is on her, his eyes not letting her look away.

“Anna! There you are!” Mikah pushed, with excuses, to the fancy people he bumped to get to them. Anna noticed then that during the interim they had been pushed slowly away from where they had first bumped into each other near the bar, and the crowd has thickened. “Champagne darling!”, he gave her a glass carrying another for himself and a third one presumably for Rachel. “Where’s Rache?” he asked, quickly giving a quick glance at Max’s arm still casually holding her waist, as his thumb absently brushed her lower naked back.

“Dancing with Lando I think,” she answers, glancing at Max for confirmation, who nods.

“Do you want it mate?” Mikah asked offering the third champagne glass, Max thanks him. “Ten minutes ‘til 12!” he announces walking back into the crowd not before giving Anna a shameless wink.

Comfortable silence settles as they both take an automatic sip from the flutes.

“Do you want to be in the middle of it?” He asks when they notice the screens show a couple of minutes left for the arrival of the New Year without any of their friends nearby.

“Not really,” she confesses and he takes it as direction to take them farther back to the gardens. Close enough to see the celebrations but not to be tripped and pushed by the thickening crowd. He notices her shivering, his hand now fully brushing her cold back. He doesn’t think much before taking off his jacket. Offering silently his jacket to her, Anna hesitates. He doesn’t. Before she could say anything, she was engulfed in his cologne and warmth. It took a big part of her self-control to smell it shamelessly, she had always loved his cologne and he hadn’t changed it. She takes it gratefully, warmth welcome. She indulges after few seconds, into taking in his cologne, eyes closing mechanically. When she opens up, his pleased face is taking her in.

The countdown begins.

10, 9, 8…

She’s taken into his arms, lips finding themselves easily. Her hands scratch the back of his neck as he opens his lips, tongues teasing. It’s both new and familiar at the same time.

They break, eyes closed, arms not willing to let go. He nips her lips again shortly, teasing her into a second kiss. Her hands touch softly his cheeks, as his press her lower back into him. The second is more urgent than the first. His lips battling hers, a moan escapes her and his fingers tighten his grip on her.

“We-“ she begins but Max interrupts kissing her again, one of his hands guiding her neck into leaning so he can continue kissing the edge of her face, into her neck. His nose nuzzles under her ear before steamily kissing where her collarbone meets her neck. Her fingers return to the back of his neck, scratching him slightly, probably leaving red marks.

He only gets a second of clarity of where they are, enough to break from her. Her dozed molten honey eyes meet him confused. He arranges his jacket over her shoulders, glancing around for witnesses but most people are well into the celebrations. He’s drunk on her but not enough to forget that even though nor camaras are allowed in, gossip is just as harmful and she always gets the worse end of the stick.

It takes them a few minutes of walking as quickly as her heels will allow her before they find an empty coat room. They stumble inside, lips meeting once again.

His coat drops quickly on the floor as his hands take their time to explore freely.

“Max,” she mutters as she battles his tie. He humms in response as he resumes kissing her neck ‘til he gains a moan in return and she presses her hips to him. His hands have raised the end of tight dress over her hips, his fingers rushing to find the top of her stockings.

“We shouldn’t,” she mutters absently as he takes a knee to put the last working brain cells into lowering her stockings. He stops, hands falling away from their mission, eyes looking up at her confused. She bites her lip, shutting down her sabotaging brain as she helps him with the stockings. He stands kicking her shoes away, more hesitant than before. His eyes capture hers.

“You sure?” he asks his eyes looking for uncertainty in hers. She answers kissing him, bringing out the urgency once again from him. Her fingers open a few buttons of his shirt, his hands softly and carefully finding her centre. She loses focus for a second and his fingers getting reacquainted with her folds, she raises one of her legs, supporting herself with the furniture. She releases his belt easily, pressing her hand to the tightness of his pants. He pushes her hands away for leverage, pushing two fingers into her. “Fuck!” he breaths out when he notices how wet she already is. She moans in approval as he begins to touch her slowly, eyes closed, hand on his neck helping herself with balance. His fingers leave her, making her open her eyes in confusion just to see him lick his fingers. She kisses him then, tasting herself through him, while she finishes to push his pants down, his shaft bouncing free.

They giggle like little kids when he almost makes them fall through the coat rack trying to push into her. The kiss sloppily as they touch as if it was the first time they’d been in this situation. Finally, she turns her back to him, hands grabbing the rails, pushing her hips back. His hands stroke her naked cheeks pushing them apart, lining himself with her. He slowly slides into her as he flushes her naked back to him. For a moment they stay quiet and still, savouring the feeling of fulness, ‘til she moves her hips asking him without words to move, which he does.

It's not a conscious decision but as he pushes in and out, she notices a small mirror that allows her to see his face. His eyes are shut in pleasure, his mouth slightly open. And then she knows she had never seen something so hot.

“Open your eyes,” she orders, taking one of his hands over her hips, to her clitoris. He opens them, lost when he also notices the mirror. He smiles shamelessly as he kisses her neck and touches her.

“I’m close Annie,” he mutters, not losing rhythm. She hums and places her hand over his, to help him get her to the finish line. “Fuck Annie! You are so-”, he doesn’t finish as he slips out to come over the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters again. He doesn’t wait much before he kisses her neck softly, once again his fingers returning to their work, he makes her turn to have better reach, and it’s not long before she’s coming on his fingers, his name on her lips.

They arrange themselves in silence again, stockings forgotten as they use them to clean away the evidence. He stops her when she goes to open the door.

“I-“he begins, words failing him. Something clicks inside of her as she doesn’t need him to speak to know he wants to know she doesn’t regret it. She kisses him slowly, with purpose, his hands once again hold her close, pushing her into the closed door.

“I can’t think of a better way to begin a new year than this,” she says once they break, noses pressed together. He laughs sheepishly, feeling lighter than he has in ages.

“I’ve been told they have a mean buffet,” he says eyes on her.

“Now?” she wonders out loud not wanting to be the one to break them completely apart.

“B-Breakfast,” he stutters nervously, as if some minutes ago he hadn’t been buried deep within her. Her mouth draws a perfect O. “I have a room upstairs,” he continues when no response comes from her.

“I can’t,” she finally says, making him take a minuscule step back, to be able to see her face fully. “I don’t know if the hotel’s been completely vetted… “she adds sheepishly.

“Vetted?”

“NDA’s for the hotel staff, avoid leaks…” she continues brushing his hair back. She touches his face softly trying to memorize it again.

“Oh,” he mumbles understanding.

“I know the party had some sort of control, but I don’t-“”

“It’s ok,” he eases, glancing down, using his fidgeting hands to tuck his shirt back inside of his trousers. She bits her lip nervously.

“Max,” she calls taking his hands in hers. She pulls him in intending for a kiss but ends hugging him. She feels a knot form inside of her reminding her of the last time she held him like this. She feels her eyes begin to water when she stops herself from going down that road.

There were many things they wanted to say. Many questions they had kept hidden at the back of their heads. Maybe they would get another opportunity to share them but for now this would have to do.

Chapter 8

@labelledejourr

@jeconnaismeslimitesus

#f1 2023 #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x oc #daniel ricciardo #break ups #exlovers #taylorswift #lando norris #lando the wingman #smut #2.0 #singer oc

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reveluving · 3 months

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cold little kisses ; yandere!singer x reader

summary: Omar's love knows no bounds.

warnings: s~mut (minors DNI!) & tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: I LOVE @oncomingnight 's OCs to BITS, but Omar has been haunting me for DAYS. OP if you're reading this, hi!! Quick question; is the man in the original post like someone someone? ‘Cause he now comes to mind whenever I think of him ✋🏼😔 Hope you don't mind me giving this sweetheart a go! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

'But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.' ;

Smut includes: unprotected sex (p in v), cockwarming, slight teasing & marking, drools & sweat, body worship, soft!dom!Omar!

Omar believed you were God's gift at its purest form, and to be the luckiest son of a gun when you bestowed before him that very day?

Absolute miracle.

There was no way he could have wiped the lovestruck smile off his face every morning, waking up to you in your most vulnerable.

The extravagant sight of Quebec was already a treat as it was, enjoying the spot with his wife was another. He was more than content to watch you marvel at the snowy night, eyes twinkling in the fairy lights as the snowflakes fell on you like an extraordinary being blessing the Earth, but that would be unceremonious of him.

“Omar, look.” You gasped for the umpteenth time tonight, bending down at the line of the nation's quintessential souvenirs, handcrafted in ways that would surely grab the attention of first-time tourists. Those familiar with the renowned singer were kind enough to leave him and his beloved be, going only as far as taking a picture of the two from a distance to share on their social media later and rake in OMGs or any other forms of awe.

That, and many were smart enough to stay away, having witnessed the more intimidating side of him online at the mere mention of you in manners that never sat right with him.

“Would you like that one?” He asked, his deep voice never failed to send shivers down your spine.

“Omar, we already have so much.” You raised the bags in your hands, plus motioning to the majority that he had offered to hold. Brows furrowing a little in a way that you feel guilty that he has to play tour guide for you, no matter how many times you have visited.

“Well, who else is going to beautify our new bookshelf, if not you?” He chuckled, languidly walking over to stand next to you. He briefly surveyed the souvenirs through the glass, only for his eyes to flit towards you within seconds, prompting your face to burn, despite the chilly air hitting you, “We're buying it.”

Omar ducking his head was a telltale sign of him wanting to steal a kiss, but rather than feeling his lips on yours, he pecked the cold tip of your nose. Embarrassed by the affectionate display in public, you hid your face in his chest, your giggles vibrating through him.

That didn't stop him from showering you with more, planting kisses after kisses on the top of your head while he rested his free hand on the small of your back.

But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glassy to the point where you couldn't pinpoint the nature on the other side of the window beyond silhouettes. Your mind was no better, your brain already in the midst of turning mush in favour of him prodding your cervix.

He cooed at you, akin to a delicate flower if not for the way one of his hands gripped at your ass tightly. Blunt nails leaving marks for him to appreciate in the next sunrise. His other hand lightly held the back of your head, leaving you no choice but to stare back at him in a drunken haze.

Omar welcomed your drools and tears dripping down his chest, occasionally leaving damp marks on his shirt, all unbuttoned but barely removed from his shoulders. The half-disheveled look on him was a sight to behold, the oh-so-put-together-singer nowhere to be seen.

You felt full, and you were full, the stretch around him evident when bouncing you up and down his cock required his aid. You would've fallen back or sagged in his arms if not for his own holding you snug against his chest. Although, that didn't mean he wasn't seconds away from losing himself into the feeling either—falling back into the velvet seat with one arm around you, chest heaving in shallow breaths and skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His body akin to a Greek God, created to worship his one and only with loyalty, riches and silk, and protect you from the dangers of humanity alone, or even the unforgiving weather that occured beyond the safety of his luxurious cabin.

Lost in the way you squeezed him each time he rolled his hips, he surged forward, wrapping his lips around one of your pebbled tits. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his face further into your breasts as he shamelessly looked up at you through his lashes.

“Omar…” You hiccuped, brushing your lips against his forehead, moving your hips when he stilled you for a moment. It felt sickly sweet. something only he had the privilege of—of your body and soul, “Move, please…”

He couldn't say no to you, not now, not ever, even if he wanted nothing more than to listen to your pretty voice and hold you real close.

So long your lips, your mind, your you—could do nothing more than reciprocate his own desires, he'd only stop at his own expense when hell freezes over.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» Bonus HC from the train pic on OP's post:

I love the thought of Omar, with his reading glasses as he writes the lyrics of his upcoming song on a journal and casually drinks his coffee. But he's also watching his beloved play a one-player card game in front of him with a warm smile. UGH.

» deadass could not help it. this is one of those 'if I don't do something about it, no matter how short or quick it is, I'll sure as hell think about it for a LONG time.' ksjslsksls ;; tagging @firefly-graphics for the gorgeous divider ♡

#— reve's reverie 🌹#again: he's not my oc!! he's made by oncomingnight!#pls check them out!! 😭💗#yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #yandere singer x reader #yandere x willing reader #yandere oc x y/n #oc x reader #oc x you #oc x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x f!reader #yandere x f!reader

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