midnightzonzz - Tumblr blog

midnightzonzz · 8 days ago

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What's in my bag ?

Summary : While filming a “What’s In My Bag?” video for TUMI during a dreamy shoot in Lake Como, Lando Norris proudly shares his favorite travel items: headphones, cinnamon mints, lucky charms… and a stack of Polaroids of his girlfriend.

Until one very private photo slips into the mix, and suddenly the internet sees a whole lot more than he meant to show.

Genre : suggestive, fluff, oneshot

Pairing : Lando Norris x reader

Warning : mature content, allusion to nude and sex activities

Main Masterlist

Author notes : funny and soft oneshot to bring a little bit of joy after the race of Sunday. Everyone please stay safe and if you can, stay away from social media if it gets too hard after this week-end race, love you all <3

Lake Como glistened in the soft morning light, its surface scattered with diamonds of sun as gentle waves rolled against the dock. A light breeze rustled the cypress trees lining the water’s edge, carrying with it the scent of pine and polished wood from the nearby villas. Birds chirped, water lapped, cameras clicked.

And somewhere on a private terrace above the lake, Lando Norris was trying not to sweat through his linen shirt.

“Alright, we’re rolling in three, two, one...” the cameraman’s voice faded into silence as the red light blinked on.

Lando sat back in the sleek director-style chair, a black TUMI backpack resting on his lap. He adjusted the strap, cleared his throat, and gave the camera his signature, cheeky grin.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

His voice echoed softly against the terracotta walls behind him.

“This is my TUMI backpack. I take it everywhere, especially when I’m traveling. It’s kind of like my...survival kit,” he chuckled, unzipping the top compartment. “You’ll see what I mean.”

One by one, he began pulling items out, placing them carefully on the small table beside him.

“First up: my headphones,” he said, holding up a sleek black pair. “Can’t live without these. Whether it’s music, Netflix on the plane, or zoning out in the paddock, these save me.”

He paused and smirked at the camera. “They also help when I’m pretending not to hear Oscar.”

The staff behind the camera chuckled.

“Next... passports. Plural. Yeah. I have three.” He fanned them out like a hand of cards, laughing. “I’m international, baby.”.”

He dug deeper into the backpack and pulled out a small, velvet pouch. Opening it carefully, he revealed several stone bracelets in warm earthy tones.

“My mum got me these for Christmas,” he said quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t always wear them on track days, but I keep them close. Just… makes me feel a bit more grounded.”

He placed them gently down and then brandished a small tin.

“Cinnamon mints,” he declared proudly. “For the sweet tooth. Helps with cravings. Or when you want to pretend you don’t eat like a raccoon at midnight.”

More laughter. The atmosphere was warm, friendly. Lando was in his element, somewhere between boyish and bold.

“Now we’re getting to the fun stuff.”

He pulled out a tangled mess of keychains, one shaped like a tiny McLaren helmet, another a fluffy orange pom-pom, and the last: a piece of tissue with the initials LN sewn into it.

“A fan gave me this,” he said, holding it between his fingers. “I’ve had it for years. It’s falling apart but... can’t travel without it.”

He smiled at the memory, then paused as his hand slipped into one of the deeper side pockets. His brow furrowed.

“Oh... wait,” he muttered, pulling something halfway out before immediately stuffing it back in.

He looked up at the camera, suddenly sheepish.

“Uhh...yeah. Some stuff I definitely can’t show you,” he said, grinning and scratching the back of his neck. “Let’s just say... it's better to stay protected”

The staff broke into laughter. One of the camera guys let out a dramatic “ooooohhh.”

“What?” Lando laughed, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “You never know, okay? I like to get prepared.”

Still grinning, he reached again into the bag and pulled out a small, silver disposable camera.

“This guy comes everywhere with me,” he said. “I take film photos when I travel. Stuff that’s just for me, you know? Not for Instagram. Just memories.”

He held it up with affection, then reached in again and began pulling out little mementos: a handmade skull keyring from Mexico, a folded receipt with something scribbled on the back, a broken friendship bracelet.

“I’m kind of a hoarder,” he admitted. “These are all... pieces of places. People. Moments. I like keeping them close.”

His hand brushed against something in the side pocket. A small, rubbery bottle.

He pulled it out before he registered what it was.

There was a beat.

He stared at the camera.

The bottle gleamed in the sunlight. Bright pink. Labelled clearly ' Lubricant: Strawberry flavor' .

“Oh. My god.”

He blinked, went pale, then immediately turned red.

“I...okay, that’s not, this is not...this wasn’t meant to be in here.”

He stuffed it back into the pocket, eyes wide.

The cameraman wheezed behind the lens. A staffer covered her mouth.

“I swear this is not... I didn’t pack this bag this morning!” Lando stammered. “Okay I did, but not, like, not with this interview in mind so I didn't know I had to show it.”

Lando groaned. “Can we cut that out? Please? It’s for...dry skin.”

“Oh wich part of your skin?”

He buried his face in his hands and trie to change the subject.

Still flustered, he grabbed one of his tech pouches and unzipped it, desperate to pivot.

“Oh!” he beamed. “Okay. These are my favorites.”

From the padded pouch meant for a laptop, he pulled out a neat little stack of Polaroids tied with a red ribbon. He untied them quickly, holding the first one up to the camera.

“This... is my girlfriend.”

The way he said it, like he couldn’t believe his luck, was soft, sincere.

He flipped through the pictures with reverence.

“This is her in Spain last summer. Look at this, she was trying to take a serious photo and I made a face behind her.”

He laughed.

“This is us in Monaco. Don’t ask how I convinced her to get in the pool. She hates cold water.”

Another.

“This is her sleeping. And this... this is her at breakfast, in my hoodie.”

His smile melted into something private, like a quiet sunrise behind his eyes.

“And this...”

He held up the next Polaroid to the camera without looking at it first. There was a beat. A pause.

From behind the camera, someone made a choked noise.

Lando glanced up. “What?” Then looked at the picture.

“Oh...oh, no. No, no, no...”

He yanked it back quickly, his ears flushing bright pink.

“Shit, this isn’t...this was not supposed to be in that pile.”

He stuffed it deep into the side of the bag, clutching the remaining Polaroids protectively.

“Oh my god, please can you blur it,” he groaned, covering his face. “That’s from the other pile. Like...the private-private collection.”

The entire crew burst into cackles.

“I swear to god if that makes the cut, I’m a dead man. She’s going to kill me.”

“Was that a nude?” someone asked, not even trying to hide the glee.

“I am not answering that.”

“Was it?” the assistant pressed.

“I plead the fifth,” Lando said dramatically, still red-faced. “Blur it. Blur it, please. I’m begging you. I have a career. I have a relationship.”

He tried to laugh it off, but his smile was flustered, eyes wide and nervous.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, trying to move on.

“Anyway. My phone. My wallet. You know. The boring stuff.”

But even as he listed the rest of his items, he kept glancing at the camera, haunted. Regretfully boyish. Still blushing.

“Alright. That’s what’s in my bag,” he said quickly, snapping the backpack shut. “And apparently... a reason to get murdered by my girlfriend.”

He groaned again. “Can we cut that part? Please? I swear, she’s gonna make me sleep on the balcony.”

The red light turned off.

The staff burst into applause.

“Best interview yet,” one of the directors laughed, clapping. “Gonna break the internet.”

@TUMIofficial

WHAT’S IN MY BAG with Lando Norris: Lake Como Special Catch our exclusive behind-the-scenes interview with what Lando really carries with him👀

@_user1 WAIT. Did he just… show a nude of his gf on camera?? 😭😭😭

@_user2 THE WAY HE PANICKED. omg that was NOT staged. He looked like he wanted to die 💀💀💀

@_user3 No bc I NEED to know what was on that Polaroid. Was it like artsy nude or nude-nude?

@_user4 LMFAO he had the audacity to hint at condoms, then literally WHIPPED OUT A NUDE LIKE IT’S A FAMILY VACAY SNAP 💀💀

@_user5 He carries cinnamon mints for his sweet tooth AND spicy pics of his girl?? man’s layered fr

@_user6 Not Lando Norris accidentally exposing his thirst for his gf on a sponsored ad 😭 someone check on the TUMI PR team

@_user7 Lube AND nudes of his girl?? Lando Norris is not packing for a trip. He’s packing for a weekend of sin.

@_user8 He really said: “this is her being pretty, this is her sleeping… and this is her NAKED” lmao LANDO WHYYYYY

@_user9 This man is not traveling. He’s on a mission.

@_user10 Lando really opened that bag and gave us: emotional support bracelets, cinnamon mints, protection, lube, porn. He's got range.

@_user11 “Some stuff I can’t show you” and then five minutes later accidentally shows us 😭 this man has NO filter and NO chill

@_user12 This isn’t a “what’s in my bag” this was a “what’s in normally in my bedroom drawer but I somehow take it everywhere in my backpak”

@_user13 He said “I like to be prepared” and I believe him now

@_user14 “That’s from the other pile” UM. HELLO????? THERE IS A PILE??

@_user15 Protective AND obsessed with his girl?? I need a man like Lando

@_user16 He really said “what’s in my bag?” and the answer was: horniness

Texts messages

Y/N Just watched the TUMI video 😇

Lando Oh no.

Y/N The one where my nude photo makes a guest appearance in front of 1.2 million people? 🤗

Lando BABE It was an ACCIDENT But don't worry it's blur we can't see a single thing I didn’t mean to pull that photo I meant the cute ones!! The breakfast one!! The one where you’re wearing my hoodie!!

Y/N So you show the one where i’m wearing nothing at all?

Lando I’m sweating I’m actually sweating I’m gonna get sued. by you. By TUMI. By your parents

Y/N My mum did text me She said “interesting campaign... very modern”

Lando NOOOOOOOOOOOO I’m crawling into the lake

Y/N Also “i like to be prepared”? Really? What exactly are you preparing for mid-flight with lube? 🤔

Lando Dry skin!!! I said it's for my dry skin!!!!!

Y/N Right Because when i think of skin hydratation i think of edible lubricant 🙃

Lando I’m scared to check twitter Someone called my bag “frat boy coded" They’re not wrong

Y/N You do carry condoms, lube, candy and a Polaroid of me naked in the same backpack You’re like Dora the Explorer if she was addicted to sex

Lando DORA?!?!?! 😭

Y/N “What’s in my bag?” Everything but self-control

Lando Okay, first of all, RUDE Second of all… the lube smells nice Third of all… You didn’t complain last time

Y/N Oh so now you’re doubling down??

Lando Just trying to make the best of my public humiliation Besides What’s so wrong with carrying a few... essentials? A man’s gotta travel prepared

Y/N You sound like a horny boy scout

Lando “Always be ready” is a valid motto 🙋‍♂️

Y/N Valid until you drop a bottle of lube in front of a camera crew

Lando They laughed so hard i thought someone was gonna need CPR

Y/N You’re lucky i love you And you’re lucky the nude was actually a good one

Lando Thank you 🥺 i almost show the one where you’re biting the sheet but i had... instincts

Y/N INSTINCTS???? You mean your last two brain cells had a moment of clarity

Lando Pls Do you still love me?

Y/N Debatable Might depend on whether or not you bring me almond croissants when you will come back

Lando Deal But only if you let me take a new Polaroid… One just for me to see😉

Y/N … Good luck on media day tomorrow Norris

Lando Oh no god I forgot about that

The paddock was already buzzing by the time Lando arrived, hoodie up over his head like he was trying to go incognito. Not that it helped, cameras turned as soon as he walked through the gates.

Media day.

He kept his head down, offering a few tight-lipped smiles to passing crew and journalists. He could feel the looks. The barely contained smirks. The PR team had already warned him to "expect commentary.” He hadn’t realized commentary meant the entire motorsport world was now intimately familiar with the contents of his bag.

He reached the McLaren hospitality unit and headed straight for the driver lounge.

Oscar was already there.

He looked up from his phone the second Lando walked in, and the smile started immediately.

“Morning,” Oscar said, way too casual. “Sleep well?”

Lando didn’t answer. Just dropped into the chair across from him and stared at the ceiling.

Oscar waited half a beat.

Then: “So… what’s in your bag today?”

Lando groaned, eyes closing. “No.”

“No what?” Oscar asked, blinking innocently.

“I’m not doing this with you.”

Oscar nodded slowly, tapping his phone against the table. “Right. Of course. Strict media day focus. No time for lube talk.”

Lando didn’t move but look at him shocked. “Oscar!”

“Yes?”

“I will actually fight you if you keep talking”

Oscar continued, unfazed. “I’ve learned a lot about you this week.”

“Please stop.”

“Your skincare routine. Your travel essentials.”

“It’s for my girlfriend,” Lando muttered.

Oscar nodded slowly. “Romantic.”

Lando looked at him. “I didn’t mean to show half that stuff.”

Oscar took a long sip of his water bottle, then added, deadpan: “You were really sweating.”

“I was panicking, Oscar.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

There was a pause.

Oscar looked back down at his phone.

“I just didn’t know you were the type to carry… souvenirs.”

Lando threw his head back and groaned. “It’s private. It’s supposed to stay private.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You handed it to a camera crew.”

“I didn’t know it was that one.”

Oscar hummed. “Risky system.”

Lando covered his face. “I’m not coming out for media. Tell them I’ve combusted.”

Oscar leaned back again, shrugging. “Might be safer. Someone from Williams asked if you’re sponsored by Durex now.”

Lando didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to crawl into his chair.

Oscar gave a tiny, satisfied nod.

Then, after a beat: “At least the mints were normal.”

“Thanks,” Lando said miserably. “Really comforting.”

Oscar took another sip from his water bottle, then looked back at Lando, who was still sulking in the chair across from him, hoodie half over his face.

After a moment, Oscar spoke again. Calm. Curious.

“Okay, but... I actually have a question now.”

Lando didn’t move. “Please don’t.”

Oscar ignored him, tone completely deadpan. “What’s in the pile?”

Lando sat up slowly, blinking at him in horror. “What the hell, Oscar?”

Oscar stayed relaxed, perfectly composed. “You said it yourself. There's the normal Polaroids. And then there’s the private-private pile. So… what’s in it?”

“I am not...” Lando pointed at him, absolutely done. “...having this conversation with you.”

Oscar raised a brow. “Just curious. For science.”

Lando stood up instantly. “I’m leaving.”

Oscar shrugged. “Fair.”

Lando stormed toward the door, muttering something about changing teams, changing sports, maybe even changing names.

He was halfway out when,

“Oi!” Oscar called after him. “Don’t forget your backpack, Norris.”

Lando froze mid-step.

Oscar was already grinning.

“You left it,” he added, far too casually. “Y’know… the one with your precious things in it.”

Lando turned around like a man walking back into a crime scene, snatched the bag off the chair with one hand, and glared.

“Stop talking about it,” he muttered.

Oscar just smiled. “I’m not saying anything.”

“You are thinking them.”

Oscar leaned back, unfazed. “I’m not.”

“You’re being insufferable.”

Lando slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out without another word.

As the door shut behind him, Oscar shook his head slightly and let out a quiet laugh, just enough to himself, just loud enough for it to echo in Lando’s memory for years to come.

taglist : @bunnisplayground, @vampgege, @chocolatemooncoffee, @sashisuslover, @gold66loveblog, @carlando4, @il0vereadingstuff, @lilith-123321, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @h-rtsnana, @anonomano, @guacala, @charlotteking27, @ninass-world, @scarletwidow3000, @taetae-armyyyyy, @mynameisangeloflife, @tsuniio, @sophxxkiss, @teti-menchon0604, @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @dustie-faerie

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midnightzonzz · 8 days ago

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hi i love your work! could i request a fic where reader and lando have been together for a couple months and are moving slow in the the sex part of their relationship (mostly due to the readers inexperience) and lando completely respects that. maybe one night they’re watching a movie and they start making out and the reader is being super horny and is grinding on lando ( just a whole bunch of dry humping action) and they come together on his lap🤭

warnings: smut! 18+, everything the req says, hint of overstimulation

You asked him to take everything slow. And he respected that. Nothing ever went past a heavy make-out.

A weekend without racing meant Lando was home in Monaco. It meant you were spending the night at his flat. It meant a rom-com movie at your request.

Your head was on his shoulder, a hand on his thigh. He had an arm circled around your waist.

On screen, the main love interest was failing to get the girl. Saying too much and embarrassing himself. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. “Reminds me of you.” You teased and pecked his lips.

He hummed. “Funny, but I am definitely better at flirting than he is.” He defended, pecking your lips back.

“If you believe that.” You smiled and kissed him again. Not a peck this time. Longer, deeper, more sensual.

He hummed again, more of a moan than a sound of recognition. His arm tightened around you and he pulled you into his lap. That move alone deepened the kiss. It became hungrier, fiercer, messier.

And then you were grinding your hips into his lap and gasping into his mouth. Your thin shorts weren’t much of a barrier, and he often rejected wearing pants when he was home, so he was just in his boxers.

He pulled away and paused. “Wha- are you-“

“Fuck, Lan.” You sighed. “It feels so good.” A breathy gasp into his mouth as you tipped your head back. Your moans were quiet, whimpers few and far between.

You were suppressing them. He could tell. “Let me hear how good you feel.” He grunted. He was growing impossibly hard under you, solid and pressed into your core. His hands gripped your hips, guiding the roll of them.

Whimpers vocalized to desperate moans. Every catch of your clit sent another shock of pleasure up your spine. Your hips moved faster, aided by the slick that had soaked through both of your bottoms. “Fuck, fuck me.” You sighed, head falling to his shoulder. You sucked marks into his head while his teeth grazed your ear.

“Ah, shit you’re so wet,” he cursed, fingers digging into your hips.

You mewled, the sound high pitched and loud. “So- hmph, close,” your hips were erratic, losing your rhythm in search of release.

“cum with me, then.” He coaxed, leading your hips and finding that rhythm again. “Soak me. Show me how good it feels.”

You came, shuddering, moaning, slumping against him while he continued to manipulate the roll of your hips. You mumbled incoherently and nipped at his neck.

He moaned your name as he came, rutting into you while sliding your hips.

“Too- ahh, too much!” You cried, trying to push him away. But his grip was strong and he didn’t budge. “Lan,” you whined, hands clawing at his.

Only when he came down from his high did he stop. “Sorry. ‘M sorry.” He sighed, his face in your hair.

“‘S okay.” You panted, a hand tangled in his curls. You tugged gently, pulled him from the crook of your neck. You looked at him, his slightly dazed expression. You cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. “I think,” you started and climbed from his lap. “A change of clothes is needed.” You laughed, a breathy noise.

A patch of sticky wetness discolored his boxers. The same could be said for your shorts.

“Haven’t done that since I was seventeen.” He quipped, earning a shove to his chest as you walked off to his bedroom. He got up and followed, but was disappointed when you opened his dresser drawers instead of climbing into bed.

You raised a brow at his small frown. Like you could read his mind, you said, “I’m not going that far yet.” You chuckled, the sound bordering on a scoff. You threw a new pair of boxers at his chest and stole a pair of his sweatpants for yourself.

“Yet.” He grinned.

You shoved his shoulder as you walked by. “For now you’ll just have to rely on your fantasies.” You teased, a cruel tone to your voice. His shoulders slumped.

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midnightzonzz · 9 days ago

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Leftovers. (Jimmy Darling x fem!Reader)

Summary: Your friend hosts little parties, and insists that you should take advantage of the real reason you all get together – Jimmy Darling. You weren’t interested in sharing, so you catch him on sales duty one hot weekend in July and take things into your own hands.

1.9k! warnings: smut!!! mentioned infidelity, oral sex/blowjobs (male receiving), oral fixation technically, food mention and uuhhh.. I think that’s it!

Ao3 link here! 18+ below the cut!

tags: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro @kaissweetlamb @twinkiemaximoff @redwoodghost @nova-kayne67 @jspehquinn [ask to be added!]

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midnightzonzz · 9 days ago

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In the end of the night, I can feel your warmth. (Kyle Spencer x Reader)

summary: zombies eat brains… not pussies. WRONG. they actually eat them really well. 2.9K words!

warnings: 18+ below the cut!! smut (female receiveing), heavy heavy cunnilingus, s*xual guiding/coaching, praise (male receiving), carnal instincts, unga bunga brain Frankenkyle because it’s a serious problem I have, uhhhhhhh.

tags: @darlingjimmy @petersevans @kaiju-superstar @redwoodghost @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @iluwmycats @kai-slut @kaissweetlamb @twinkiemaximoff @evanpetersfansblog @spill-the-t @eventually27 @stucktothetwo @kai-andersons-blog @kai-anderson-whore @evansb1tch @viharmonscorner @yesdevineruler @anonymous0316 @enchanting-evan @fuckedbykai @nova-kayne67

ao3 link here! Full link below the cut!! Thank you to @redwoodghost and @kaiju-superstar for yet AGAIN beta-reading and sending me to the clouds.

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midnightzonzz · 9 days ago

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Leftovers. (Jimmy Darling x fem!Reader)

1.9k! warnings: smut!!! mentioned infidelity, oral sex/blowjobs (male receiving), oral fixation technically, food mention and uuhhh.. I think that’s it!

Ao3 link here! 18+ below the cut!

tags: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro @kaissweetlamb @twinkiemaximoff @redwoodghost @nova-kayne67 @jspehquinn [ask to be added!]

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midnightzonzz · 15 days ago

Text

Movie Night |

Marcus Baker x fem!oc

• WARNINGS . . . swearing, alcohol, descriptions of sex, fluff, and smut

"I'm not like other guys" He says in his best douche voice, eliciting a small laugh from you. He looks down at your face and smiles at the way you're looking at him with hearts in your eyes, although he feels a bit of guilt pang in his chest. Marcus was reluctant to go mostly anywhere that wasn't a room with only you and him in it, and sometimes he felt like a ball and chain because of that, even though you genuinely didn't mind staying in with him.

So of course that's what you offer, "But seriously if you want to stay in then I don't mind having a movie night" his face scrunches up as soon as the words leave your mouth and he tilts his head to the side in thought. "There will be other parties, I will be okay" you say reassuring those heavy thoughts stacking up in his head.

"Yes, but if you really want to go I will get dressed" he says flashing a soft smile, eyes studying how you had already fixed your hair and makeup.

"And if you really don't want to go i'll get undressed" you tell him getting up and taking your shoes back off.

"Or you two could separate for a few hour like normal people" Max interrupts as she walks behind the couch, beelining for the spot in the kitchen containing pregame shots.

"And thank you Max for your helpful input" Marcus say sarcastically while throwing his head back, watching you walk away to go change.

Max rolls her eyes and throws back her last shot. "This is a common area" she says reminding him with a glare.

"I'll have fun either way, you will not. Parties with a bunch of drunk and coked out white kids are also very negotiable in my tier list of parties" You tell him returning from your room, finishing pulling down one of his shirts over your body.

"There is a tier list?" he asks sitting up and holding his arms out for you.

"Absolutely" You tell him sitting sideways in his lap, "And Marcus movie parties rank very very high" you say the last part into his cheek, giving him an innocent kiss and grabbing the remote from the arm of the chair.

"Okay we're leaving now. Love you, mean it" Max yells through the room, making her way out the door.

"Hate you!" Marcus yells out before you can even respond

You call out immediately after him, "Kidding" finishing what he was most likely not going to say at all and with that Max slammed the door and you two were all alone. You shot Marcus an unamused stare and he raised his eyebrows in a silent defense.

"You're so gorgeous" he speaks quietly, turning your stare into a look more softened and sweet.

You turned your head quickly and mumbled,"Shut up." You got up from lap again telling him to "Pick a movie" as you went into the bathroom to remove all your make up and then into the kitchen to grab a few snacks and drinks.

You rounded the couch, picking up a spare blanket and throwing it over both yourself and Marcus. He scrolled through the menu on the tv for a while not knowing what to pick as you looked up, admiring his facial features.

He haphazardly put on a movie you both had already seen before. "Hi" he smiled down at you, reaching his hand up to hold the side of your face.

"Hi" you greeted him back as his thumb began to softly glide across the skin of your cheek.

He lowers his head, connecting your lips softly. Marcus was more than great kisser and he always knew how to melt you into a puddle. He leaned further into the kiss, deepening it and you let him take control completely.

The feeling of his tongue in your mouth and his lips against yours put a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. Even a passionate kiss could get you rilled up and he knew it.

One of your hands traveled from his neck to under his shirt fairly quickly and your fingers ghosted under the waistline of his sweatpants even faster. As soon as your finger danced past the elastic band you could feel him smirk against your lips.

Marcus moved his hands to hold your neck and waist firmly to lay you down across the couch. He towered over you and broke the kiss, moving to trail soft open mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hands trailed across his back and softly ran through his hair. You could feel both his hands move down to hold you hips, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your boy shorts "Can I take these off?" he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You nod your head and mumble an soft "Mhm" making his hands freeze in their place. "Yes, I mean" you say quickly knowing that Marcus loves hearing your verbal consent more than anything else.

"Uh huh, good girl" he says lowly, sucking a particular spot on your neck softly, contrasting the way he immediately pulls your shorts and underwear down. His hand drags back up your thigh, to where you need him most and his thumb runs up and down your slit, slowly pushing in two fingers and using his thumb to make circular motions on your clit. "Right here?" he asks adding pressure that's makes you respond with a whiny "yes" into his ear, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin.

He moves his fingers around almost teasingly until you place a hand on his chest and look up at him with pleading eyes, "Marcus, I think i'm ready" You implied that you needed more with a frustrated huff, moving your hands to his pull his pants down. He watches you take his already hard dick out of his boxers, his eyes blown out and full of lust trail from your hands up to your face. He pulls his fingers out completely and guides himself back to your entrance. He slowly pushes the tip in first, watching your face for a reaction. He cautiously pushes himself in further, bottoming out completely. You writhe under him, arching your back enough to make him use his free hand to firmly hold your hip, pressing your lower half firmly into the couch. You clutch his forearm and quietly beg him to go faster. He nods and pants out, "Yes baby" with his eyebrows furrowing, and putting his head in your shoulder, kissing whatever parts of your skin his lips could touch.

He pulls all the way out bottoms out with every thrust, hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll back. You tighten your hold on him and choke out whimpers with every long stroke.

Marcus takes directions on how to pleasure you so well that eventually you have no other directions to give him. You end up just moaning out nonsensical pleases and thank yous.

The last whine that leaves your mouth causes him to kiss you hungrily, swallowing every sound you make. Your sounds riled him up more than anything, he loved the validation that came from them, telling him he was doing a good job. He loved hearing you, but he was also about to prematurely cum solely off of hearing you moan out a simple yes or please. Everything you did was sexy to him, he couldn't help it.

"Shit" he cursed into a half broken kiss, making you fully break it out of curiosity. "I'm gonna cum soon" he heavily pants a warning, voice gone deep and husky.

"Me too" you tell him nodding, hurriedly. His hand moves down in between you two, rubbing at you clit again lightly. It makes your walls squeeze and the sounds of his grunts start putting pornographic thoughts into your head. "Cum in me" You moan, you lips just barley touching his, when he creates more space to look up at you with a animalistic stare.

"Anything for you" he smirks before kissing you again. His strokes become faster along with his fingers and the next time you clench around him he throws his head back into your shoulder, both of you riding your highs out together. "I love you" he huffs out, kissing your temple and massaging the skin of your hips, where he was worried he held too tight.

"I love you too" you spoke softly, rubbing the back of his head and neck.

"I should go get a rag" He suggests, tapping your thigh softly.

"Don't get anything on my couch" you whined, begging him to save your furniture.

"I'll just take you with me and we can hop in the shower" He lifted his head up, looking down at you with a shit eating grin.

You feel him move around and adjust his hold on you, it makes your eyes go wide, "Marcus! No-" you're cut off as he lifts you from the couch and begins to walk quickly towards the bathroom.

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midnightzonzz · 20 days ago

Note

Woohoo! 🎉 on 1000!

Charles Leclerc fem reader and 🍯 #faefucked but with far reader?

A deal with the devil||Charles leclerc x fae trickster!fem!reader

Summary — after a few seasons of bad luck Charles makes a deal with the devil or rather a trickster who gives a championship winning car.

Word count—611

Warnings — riding Charles being slightly manipulated and taken advantage of and basically selling his soul.

A/n— thank you so much 😊 also this was so much fun to do!!!!! (I also went over the limit) also this isn’t edited so there might be some slight incorrect grammar

Follow my 1k celly with the tags faiths1kferalhours and faiths1kspicecelly and here’s the main post

Ferrari’s upgrades weren’t cutting it. The car was a tin can on wheels and wasn’t giving the results everyone wanted so, when you—half-laughing, half-glowing with moonlight—offered him a deal, he didn’t hesitate. Fae trickster or not, Charles Leclerc would do anything to win.

The moment he said the words, you knew he didn’t understand what he was asking for.

“I want a championship-winning car,” he breathed, eyes locked on yours like he could already taste the glory. “Tell me what it’ll take.”

You smiled slow, sharp. The moonlight kissed your skin like it worshipped you, curling around your magic, pulsing like a heartbeat. “That’s a steep price, mon cœur.”

“I’ll pay it.”

You stepped closer, your eyes glowing violet for just a moment. “Then let’s seal the deal.”

His brow furrowed. “With what?”

Your fingers brushed the waistband of his fireproofs. “With you.”

And before he could respond, your fingers were already unzipping his red fireproofs, tugging him back into the shadows of the motorhome, where time twisted in knots and the air smelled of magic and sex.

“You’re not human,” he groaned as you straddled him, pinning him to the plush seat like he weighed nothing. “ should i be scared.”

“You should,” you whispered against his throat, biting gently. “But you want this.”

He did. God, he did.

Your magic thrummed through your skin, buzzing where your thighs spread over his. You weren’t soft—you were sharp, teasing, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds like you were deciding whether or not he deserved it. Charles gripped your hips, desperate now.

“Don’t tease,” he gasped. “Please.”

You laughed. “Oh, you sweet mortal thing. You made a deal with a fae trickster. You will be teased.”

And yet—when you sank down onto him, tight and slick and too much—he swore he saw stars.

“You’re trembling,” you whispered. “Is it the magic? Or me?”

“Both,” he rasped, hands gripping your thighs.

“Fae rules,” you said sweetly, biting his earlobe. “Deals must be earned. Pleasure must be given.”

Charles groaned as you kept grinding, slow and cruel. “You’re torturing me.”

“Mm,” you hummed. “You’re the one who begged for the title and a winning car. Desperate men don’t get to set the pace.”

“F—fuck,” he choked. “You’re—tight—fuck—please.”

You rode him like your body was made to break him. Wet heat clenching around him, thighs flexing, back arched as you slammed down, again and again. Each movement deliberate. Each bounce of your ass dragging a raw moan from his throat.

“Look at you,” you whispered, voice like silk wrapped around a blade. “So pretty when you beg. Moaning for a monster.”

“You feel—god—you feel unreal.”

“I’m a monster Charles what did you expect,” you say smiling wickedly, fucking him harder.

Charles was wrecked. Whining. Eyes blown wide, mouth open. You leaned back, letting him watch the way his cock disappeared into you over and over, your cunt sucking him in like he belonged there because, after tonight, he would.

He spilled without warning, body arching, a gasp ripped from his chest like magic itself had seized him. You whispered ancient words over his skin as you milked him dry, your cunt fluttering around his pulsing length.

The moment the spell sealed, the air shimmered.

“It’s done,” you whispered, glowing in the low light, your body still pulsing with power. “Your car will be a championship contender and You’ll win it all.”

He was panting, eyes still dazed. “And you?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his. “You’re mine now, champion.”

“Mind. Body and soul.”

139 notes · View notes

midnightzonzz · 23 days ago

Text

domestic fantasy ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: your ex is coming back to collect some things he left behind and you accidentally tell him that you have a new boyfriend, so hangman accepts the role of your new (fake) boyfriend

notes: did i spent the last three days writing for 8-10 hours a day? yes... am i going slightly insane? also yes... but guys!!! fake dating!!! i don't know how i vomited this fic up so quick, jake is just so easy for me to write (i think it's because i love him but not in a soul-crushing way like the way i love rooster?) anyway, PLEASE enjoy and please, please let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, reader is shorter than hangman (just want to mention it), allusions to sex, and it's pretty horny so 18+ ONLY please! let me know if i’ve missed anything!

word count: 10937

“This weekend?” Your voice is unsteady, but you hope the crackling from the poor phone reception is enough to mask it. “I’m not sure if I can do this weekend.”

Spencer sighs, clearly frustrated by your repeated attempts to keep him away from San Diego. “Look, I know you don’t want to do this—and honestly, neither do I—but it has to be done. I’ll only be in town for a couple of days. I’ll grab some boxes, hire a van, and get them shipped straight to my condo. Don’t you want your spare room back?”

You gnaw nervously on your bottom lip as you glance out at the open-plan office space, hoping none of your coworkers are listening too closely to your phone conversation.

You broke up with Spencer six months ago, after dating for nearly four years, and he left in such a rush that almost an entire room of his stuff stayed behind. It isn't anything important—mostly old sports gear and college memorabilia—and it’s not like he’s needed any of it. The breakup hit him hard, and he spent the following four months backpacking around Europe to clear his head. He’s only been back at his condo in Upstate New York for two months, and during that time, he’s been relentlessly bugging you to let him come pick up his things.

It’s not like you want to hold on to anything that reminds you of him, but you desperately do not want to see him again. You offered a few times to pack up his things and ship them to him, but he flat-out refused. He even called it a violation of privacy now that you’re no longer together. So, about a month ago, you told him you’d find a free weekend for him to come by and collect the rest of his stuff—and you’ve done everything you can to avoid it since.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning away from the office to face the window overlooking North Island Naval Air Station. “But you can’t stay at the apartment.”

“What?” Spencer snaps. “Why? It’ll be so much easier. I’ll be in an out in three days, tops.”

“Three days?” you echo. “Spence, that’s my whole weekend gone.”

“There’s a lot of stuff,” he argues. “I could bring Harry with me, if-”

“You are not bringing your brother, Spencer.” You stomp your foot, despite the conversation being over the phone. “Look, if that’s how long it’ll take, then fine. But you are not staying at the apartment. You can’t. My boyfriend just moved in last week.” The last few words slip out before you can stop them.

Fuck.

There’s a beat of silence before Spencer speaks again, his voice wavering. “Boyfriend?”

You tip your head back and take a deep breath. “Yes, boyfriend.”

Another awkward stretch of silence.

“Okay... I’ll stay at the motel around the corner,” he says.

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Good.”

“See you Friday, then.”

“See you Friday.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and tap the red button, watching Spencer’s caller ID photo flicker out before the screen goes black. With a sigh, your arms drop to your sides, and you lean forward until your forehead rests against the windowpane with a soft, dull thud.

What the fuck did you just do?

Gravel crunches beneath your tires as you swerve into the parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. You pull up beside a familiar Ford Bronco, yanking the parking brake just a little too hard before practically stumbling out of the car. Your feet carry you across the lot and through the front door before coming to a stop as you survey the room, searching for the familiar face you came here to find. Across the bar, tucked into the booth closest to the pool table, are your friends. They’re sipping beers and chatting happily, blissfully unaware that an electrical storm of stress and anxiety is headed right for them.

You weave through the tables and other patrons with determination, your breath coming and going in quick, anxious bursts. Your feet only stop when you reach your friends’ table, and their conversation quickly dies as they each turn to look at you.

Jake’s brows pinch. “Hey, are you okay?”

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down nervously, unsure how to reply.

Javy, who was sitting next to Jake, stands up and nods toward the bar. “I’m going to grab another drink. Want anything?”

You nod. “Whatever you’re having.”

He gives you a cheeky wink before striding off toward the bar. You watch him for a few seconds before turning back to the booth and sliding in beside Jake, leaning into him and letting your head fall on his shoulder.

Natasha sits across from you, her head tilted and a curious glint in her narrowed eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not yet, I haven’t,” you say, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “My ex is coming back this weekend.”

She rears back and sits up straight, her brows raised. “Coming back to stay?”

You lift your head from Jake’s shoulder and shake it softly. “Nah. He just wants to pick up everything he left behind.”

Jake shifts beside you, his arm sliding around your lower back almost possessively—but you know he only means to comfort you. “Including you?” he asks, his tone playful but laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You snort and turn to face him, a little startled by how close those piercing green eyes are. “Of course not. Or at least, I hope not. I mean, I think I made it pretty damn clear he wasn’t getting me back, even if he was planning to try.” You trail off, turning away, unsure how to bring up the real reason you came here tonight—the question that’s been gnawing at you since your phone conversation with Spencer.

“Okay,” Nat says, “so, what’s the big deal?”

You suck in a deep breath, filling your lungs as you gather every shred of dignity you still have left. “I told him he couldn’t stay at the apartment because… my boyfriend just moved in.”

Natasha’s brows shoot up toward her hairline and her mouth pops open. Amusement dances behind her eyes, but she has the decency to hold it back as you drop your head into your hands and let out a groan. “I fucked up.”

Beside Natasha, Mickey leans forward. “But you don’t have a boyfriend?”

You look up at him and scowl. “No shit.”

“Oh.” He nods slowly, fighting the grin that tugs at his lips.

“So, what are you going to do?” Reuben pipes up from the other end of the table, looking just as amused as the rest of your friends.

“Well...” You lean back, pressing your shoulder blades into the vinyl of the booth as you twist your neck to glance at the man beside you. “I was going to ask Jake if he could help me... pretend.”

Jake’s smirk fades, and a flush creeps into his cheeks. His green eyes widen, the usual cocky confidence replaced by startled confusion. “What? Why me?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant about asking the man you regularly fantasise about to be your fake boyfriend. “It just makes the most sense. I’ve known you the longest.” Your eyes flick toward the other boys at the table. “No offense, but Jake and I just have better chemistry—and Spencer knew it. He was always a little threatened by our friendship.”

You shift your gaze back to Jake, who’s still looking stunned, his lips parted slightly.

“Plus, I only broke up with Spencer six months ago. I couldn’t have met someone new and asked them to move in that fast. It has to be someone I already knew.” You widen your eyes and bat your lashes dramatically. “Please, Jake. I’ll do anything.”

He blinks at you, cheeks still tinged pink. “Define anything,” he says, that cocky smirk slowly starting to return.

“Whatever you want,” you reply, planting both hands on his thigh closest to you—oblivious to the fact that it makes his dick twitch in his jeans. “You know I’m good for it.”

Jake coughs into his hand, shifting slightly, trying to hold onto his bravado while making sure your touch doesn’t creep any higher. “Alright,” he says, voice a little rougher than before. “I’ll do it.”

You raise a brow. “That easy?”

He lifts a finger. “On one condition.”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious. “Which is?”

He leans in, that cocky smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “I want a home-cooked dinner. Every night I’m there. Candles. Music. Maybe a little wine. You know... boyfriend perks.”

Natasha snorts across the table. “You mean domestic fantasy perks.”

Jake just shrugs, eyes still locked on yours. “Hey, if I’m going to play house, I want the full experience.”

You swallow hard, but your mouth moves before your brain catches up. “Deal.”

He grins wider, and this time you’re pretty sure it’s not just cockiness—it’s anticipation.

You pace in circles around your kitchen island, one arm tucked under your breasts, holding your opposite elbow as you anxiously gnaw on your thumbnail. Jake is supposed to be here any minute, and the cork in the bottle of nerves rattling around in your stomach just won’t stay put.

You’ve known Jake for years. You met in college and, despite the distance with his deployments, have been metaphorically inseparable ever since. But physically? That was a little harder, obviously.

You’ve always had a soft spot for Jake—a bit of a crush, but you were never foolish enough to think anything could come of it. You’ve been perfectly content being his friend, never pushing for more. But every single one of your boyfriends? They hated him. You can’t blame them, really—Jake has that effect on people. That cocky, irresistible charm that makes it impossible for anyone else to ignore him.

Still, you can’t shake the guilt creeping in. Fooling Spencer into thinking you and Jake are together? After all those times you promised him there was nothing more than friendship between you and Jake? It feels wrong. Even if Spencer never really took your word for it.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you hurry to answer it. Jake is standing on the other side, looking even more irresistible than usual. There’s no uniform today, no flight suit or polished boots. Instead, he's wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, and somehow that makes him look even better. His hair is messy, not gelled like it usually is, and the scruff on his jaw—a day’s worth of stubble—only adds to the allure. He looks... delicious in a way that’s totally different from the polished, put-together fighter pilot you’re used to.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he says with a smirk, “sorry I’m late.”

Your brain and mouth have completely short-circuited, leaving you with no choice but to smile, nod, and step aside to let him in. He’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a box of random belongings in his arms—little odds and ends that someone might have lying around their apartment.

Jake drops the box onto the kitchen counter and turns back to you. “What time is Spencer the Snob getting here?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “In about an hour. Do you think you can manage to be civilized?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice sharp as he props his hands on his hips. “Can he be civilised?”

“Spencer is always civilized.”

You walk over to the box and start pulling out items, mentally sorting them. But Jake isn’t done.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Spencer is not always civilized. He’s just really good at hiding what a complete dick he is.”

You turn and lean your hip against the countertop, raising one eyebrow. “You only don’t like him because he didn’t like you first. And let’s be honest, that’s because you bought me lingerie for the first birthday that I was with him. He didn’t get the joke and thought it was way too suggestive.”

Jake snorts, his jade eyes lighting up with mischief. “Yeah, that was a good one. I’ll never forget the look on his face.”

You resist the urge to laugh and roll your eyes again, turning back to the box. “I’ll admit, Spence is a little snobby. But that’s just how he was raised. It’s not his fault he’s got money.”

Jake’s expression darkens, and he narrows his eyes at the affectionate nickname. “Spence?”

“Sorry,” you say, your cheeks flushing pink. “Force of habit.”

The two of you move quietly around the apartment, slipping into an easy rhythm as you make space for Jake’s things. You tuck two framed photos of his family onto the bookshelf, nestled between your novels, and slide one of his official Navy portraits beside them—one you definitely wouldn’t mind keeping.

He hangs a jacket and a couple of worn caps on the hooks by the door and drops two pairs of his boots beside your own lineup of shoes. You clear off a bedside table for him to clutter with his things, and listen to the soft clink of bottles as he unpacks his toiletries in the bathroom.

Finally, you add a towel for him to the rack beside the shower. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it: the two of you in there together. His hot, slick skin pressed to yours, the steam curling around your tangled limbs. His hands sliding soap across your body, rinsing you slow and thorough. He’d wash your hair too, fingers working into your scalp until your eyes fluttered closed—and then you’d return the favour, watching his mouth part in bliss beneath your touch.

“Hello?” Jake waves a hand in front of your face. “Anyone home?”

You blink rapidly and turn to face him, only to find him standing way too close with that maddening smirk tugging at his lips. Your eyes flick up to his, and the look he gives you is downright dangerous—curious, cocky, and just a little bit amused.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’re lookin’ a little hot under the collar.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Instead, you let out a weird half-laugh, half-scoff and sidestep him like he’s radioactive. “I’m fine. It’s just warm in here. Is it warm in here?”

Jake leans back against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed and eyes glittering. “Could be. Or maybe you were just thinkin’ about something real steamy.”

You choke on air. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, all faux innocence. “Just sayin’... you’ve got that look. Like your brain wandered somewhere it probably shouldn’t have.”

You grab a towel—any towel—and smack him in the chest. “Shut up.”

Jake laughs, catching the towel with one hand like he knew it was coming. “Whatever it was, must’ve been good.”

When he finally steps aside, you scurry past like lingering too long might scorch your skin. Only once you’ve turned down the hall and reached the kitchen—putting a safe stretch of space between you and him—do you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Okay,” you say, planting both palms against the cool, marble countertop. “Spencer is going to be here in half an hour, so we have exactly thirty minutes to practice being a couple.”

Jake smirks like this is nothing—like he’s been in this exact situation a hundred times before. “You tell me what you’re comfortable with, darlin’.” He steps up to the other side of the kitchen island and leans forward, mirroring your posture.

You tilt your head slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you narrow your eyes at him. “We need to look convincing. No weirdness, no pulling faces. Just... act natural.”

Jake cocks an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Natural, huh? So, no kissing? Not even a little peck?”

You try to focus, but the way he’s leaning across the island—just far enough to make the space between you feel electrified—throws you off. “Uh, no. Nothing like that. We’ll start slow. Hold hands, sit close... you know, the easy stuff.”

Jake’s grin widens, his gaze flickering down to your lips before locking onto your eyes. “Hold hands, sit close. Got it. But what if I make you want to kiss me? I’m really good at that.”

You feel the heat spreading through your chest, but you refuse to let him see it. “You think you can make me want to kiss you?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to match his cockiness.

He leans even further toward you and drops his voice low, the teasing edge still there but with a smouldering intensity you’re having a hard time ignoring. “Oh, sweetheart. I know I can. All I need is the right moment.”

You can’t help but laugh nervously, your pulse quickening as he stays there, so close you can feel the heat of his presence even if the island bench is still separating you. “Well, we’ve got thirty minutes to see if you can keep your hands to yourself, Seresin,” you tease, but there’s an edge to it now—a hint of challenge.

Jake leans in a little more, his gaze fixed on you, like he’s seconds away from crossing the line. “Trust me, darlin’. I can keep my hands to myself... but only if you can keep your hands off me.”

Your chest rises and falls faster than usual, your head spinning slightly from all the extra oxygen surging through your blood. You part your lips, ready to fire back something just as cocky—something to keep the volley going—but the sharp chime of your phone slices through the tension, and both your gazes snap to where it buzzes on the countertop.

You settle back onto your heels, and reach for your phone, huffing out a small, frustrated sigh before sliding the answer button and pressing it to your ear. “Hey, Spencer.”

“Hey, how are you?”

Your eyes slide toward Jake, who is looking almost as frustrated as you feel. “Fine. How far out are you?”

Spencer chuckles, and something inside of you instinctively recoils, even though the sound itself isn’t particularly offensive. “I’m great, thanks for asking. The flight was fine, a little bumpy, but we made it. I’m just waiting at baggage claim, so I’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“No worries,” you say, “see you soon.”

You hang up before he even finishes saying goodbye, drop your phone face-down on the bench, and glance back at Jake. “Alright, let’s go over the details. We started dating three months after Spencer left. You asked me out, and I was a little surprised.”

Jake frowns, already halfway to an objection, but you cut him off with a raised hand. “Just go with it, okay? It keeps my integrity intact. You have no idea how many times I had to convince him I wasn’t into you.”

His frown fades fast, replaced by that maddeningly smug smirk. “Go on, then.”

You roll your eyes, but continue. “I was surprised, but everything just... clicked. Being best friends made the relationship feel natural. That’s why things have moved fast. You were already here most nights, your rent went up, so you moved in two weeks ago.”

Jake nods like he’s logging it all away. “Okay, but more importantly—how’s the sex?”

You stare, deadpan. “Seriously?”

He shrugs, hands raised like a saint. “What? It’s a legitimate question. Spencer might ask.”

“I highly fucking doubt it.”

Jake chuckles. “Yeah, fair. Still worth a shot.”

With a long, theatrical exhale, you walk around the kitchen island and stop in front of him. “Alright, let’s talk touching.”

His eyes light up, devilish. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

You ignore him. “I’m ticklish, so don’t touch my ribs or ghost over my arms—I will flinch.”

“I know.”

You pause. “Okay…” You shake your head, ignoring the question trying to form. “I’m not huge on PDA, but I like lingering touches. Just small things, to remind each other we’re there.”

“I know,” he says again, that smirk glued in place.

The question in your head itches a little louder, but you push it aside. “And if we go out—which I really hope we don’t—make sure you’re always sitting next to me. I hate it when couples sit across from each other. I don’t want to gaze into your eyes, I want to feel your warmth.”

Jake’s smirk splits into a wide, boyish grin. “I know.”

The floodgates crack. “How the fuck do you know everything?”

He leans in just slightly, voice soft but sure. “Because I know you. I’ve watched you with every guy you’ve dated. Just because I wasn’t the guy doesn’t mean I haven’t been paying attention.”

You blink, reeling from the quiet truth in his tone. It hits you like a gust of wind—real, unshakable. You actually have to take a step back to steady yourself. There’s no teasing in his voice, no smug edge. Just Jake, earnest and open in a way that’s rare.

And it almost wrecks you.

Jake might be cocky and insufferable ninety percent of the time—but when he loves, he does it fiercely. Deeply. Fully. And you’ve always known you were lucky to be one of the people he loves.

But for the first time, you let your mind wander somewhere dangerous. What would it be like to be loved by Jake Seresin—not just as a friend, but as his person? His everything?

“So,” Jake says, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter, “where should I touch you first?”

You close your eyes for a beat, reminding yourself that this is still Jake—insufferable, irritating Jake. “You don’t have to be weird and over the top about it. When he gets here, you can just sit on the couch, then I’ll join you and sit close. You can put a hand on my thigh.”

Jake’s brows furrow, his face contorting with mild disgust. “I know you’re trying not to make him uncomfortable, but that’s not going to work. Think about it—your ex is coming over, and your current boyfriend is just sitting casually on the couch? Not buying it.”

You roll your eyes again, hoping to avoid yet another pointless argument. “Jake, this doesn’t need to be-”

“You told him you’re dating me,” he interrupts, poking his chest with a finger. “And if this was real, I’d be making damn sure I had a hand on you at all times.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how your body reacts to his proximity and his words. Heat floods your chest and settles behind your hipbones, desire tightening in places you don’t want to think about right now. “You don’t need to stake your claim, Jake. Spencer isn’t here to win me back.”

Jake steps closer, cutting the distance between you until there’s barely two feet separating you. “You don’t know that.” His voice lowers slightly, making the air between you feel thick and electric. “And yes, I do. If you want him to believe we’re dating, then you need to let me do exactly what I would do if this was real.”

You’re not sure whether he’s just being cocky or trying to show off, but damn it, he’s making a good point. “Okay, fine. But don’t make him uncomfortable.”

Jake’s smirk widens, taking on that familiar, smug edge. “No promises, darlin’.”

You spend the next ten minutes pretending to clean—wiping already spotless counters, rearranging throw pillows, and dusting things that definitely don’t need dusting. All while Jake lounges on the couch like this is the easiest job he’s ever had.

“It’s three days, sweetheart,” he says. “By Sunday, Spencer will be back in his overpriced New York apartment sipping single malt and Googling himself.”

You snort but say nothing. Three days. Just two dinners and one brunch. You’ll keep the visits restricted to daylight hours, keep Jake close, keep your story straight—and by Sunday afternoon, Spencer will be out of your apartment and out of your life.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But as you glance over at Jake—sprawled out, so completely at ease in your space, looking infuriatingly good even in his most relaxed state—you start to question the rest of it.

Because it’s not Spencer you’re worried about fooling anymore. It’s yourself. And when Jake turns his head and catches you staring, smirking like he knows exactly what you're thinking?

Yeah. This might be harder than you thought.

The intercom buzzes, loud and sudden, startling you from your task of rearranging the flowers on the dining table. Your heart launches into your throat, pounding like you’ve just jumped from a plane without a parachute.

Jake chuckles and rises from the couch, strolling over to the intercom with infuriating confidence. He presses the button and leans in. “Come on up.”

You force your feet to move, carrying you toward him and not stopping until you’re right beside him. You press yourself against him and the moment your body meets his, heat blooms under your skin. It’s not new—you've touched him before—but it feels different. More charged. More deliberate. Jake’s arm slides around your waist without hesitation, and his fingers curl into your hip, firm and possessive. There’s a subtle squeeze and the pad of his thumb grazes a sliver of skin just beneath the hem of your shirt.

You feel it everywhere.

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “It’s showtime, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters. This is just pretend.

Your heart pounds against your sternum, each beat like the tick of a countdown clock. The elevator dings. Footsteps echo down the hallway. Closer, closer. You draw in a deep breath and hold it, ignoring the sharp ache it sends through your chest.

“Relax,” Jake murmurs, pulling you tighter against his side as he reaches for the doorknob.

The second the footsteps stop, he yanks the door open—no chance for a knock.

“Spence!” Jake beams, like they’re old frat brothers reunited. “Come in, buddy. How are you?”

You nearly snort. The absurdity of his enthusiasm bubbles up in your throat, but you bite your lip hard enough to keep it down.

Spencer looks good—but all it does is remind you how little you miss him. His perfectly coiffed blonde hair hasn’t changed one bit, but he’s tanner than you remember—courtesy of the European sun, no doubt. He’s not as tall as Jake, but he’s got that same overinflated ego. The difference? Jake’s cockiness comes from… well, let’s just say it’s probably anatomical. Spencer’s is inherited—passed down with a trust fund and a country club membership.

He’s dressed exactly as you expected: a sky-blue Ralph Lauren polo, crisp white pants with a crease so sharp it could slice bread, and tan boat shoes—an ironic choice, considering he’s terrified of boats.

But it’s his face that really seals the moment. Jaw unhinged, eyes wide, staring at Jake like he just opened the door to a ghost. Or maybe something worse: the ghost of his ex-girlfriend’s new sex life.

“Jake?” Spencer finally says. “Your new boyfriend is Jake Seresin?”

Jake’s grin is unbothered—like this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life. “The one and only.”

You feel his hand press a little firmer into your waist, anchoring you there like you might suddenly run—and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted.

Spencer steps further into the apartment, his eyes glued to Jake’s smug face. “I thought you said there was nothing going on between you two.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your voice even. “There wasn’t. Not back then.”

Spencer glances at you. “You told me I was being paranoid. That he was just your friend.”

Jake chuckles. “I remember you telling me about that.”

You shoot him a look that’s supposed to say “not helping,” but he just smiles innocently and shrugs.

Spencer looks seconds away from spontaneously combusting. “I trusted you,” he says, starting to sound like the whiny, private-school rich kid you always tried to ignore. “You promised me nothing would ever happen with him.”

“Yeah, that was then, and this is now. Things change, Spence—and this has nothing to do with you,” you say, tone sharpening. If he’s going to act like a child, then you're going to treat him like one.

Jake’s hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, his thumb sweeping in a slow, easy circle like he’s soothing a spark before it ignites. “People change, bud. Timing is everything.”

Spencer folds his arms, visibly rattled. “So, what—he swooped in the second I left?”

Jake tilts his head, eyes full of mock offense. “Swooped? Come on. Give me a little credit. She came to me.”

You snap your head toward him, about to object, but his grin is wicked and the mischief in his eyes dares you to play along.

“Well...” You drag the word out, buying a few precious seconds to stitch your story together. “Technically, yes. I was upset after the breakup, so of course I turned to my best friend for comfort.”

Spencer’s blue-grey eyes narrow. “You broke up with me.”

“That she did, pal.” Jake tries for a sympathetic look, but you know better—he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“Just because I ended things doesn’t mean it didn’t rattle me,” you shoot back, trying to shift the focus away from Jake. “We were together for four years, Spencer. That’s a long time. I just had the guts to do what you didn’t. So, forgive me if I’m not in the mood to explain myself to you. I don’t owe you anything—and my new relationship? It’s none of your business.”

You see his expression twist into an offended scowl, and anger flickers in your chest. The nerve of him, acting like you still owe him something just because you pulled the plug first.

“For the record,” you continue, voice cool and firm, “yeah, I leaned on Jake. And somewhere along the line, I found something a lot deeper.”

Then, without missing a beat, you glance at Jake—who’s already wearing that cocky smirk—and let one of your own curve across your lips as you look back at Spencer.

“Actually,” you say, eyes narrowing with satisfaction, “I think it was Jake who found something a little deeper… if you know what I mean.”

Jake snorts, slapping his hand over his mouth, but he can’t suppress the gleeful chuckle bubbling from his lips. Spencer, on the other hand, looks utterly humbled—his cheeks are bright red and his jaw is hanging open like he’s just been slapped across the face.

You step away from Jake, waiting for his hand to drop so you can grab it. The second your fingers slide into his, a rush of warmth zips up your arm, and you try to ignore how good it feels, but damn, it’s hard.

“Get your boxes,” you say to Spencer, keeping your tone cool. “Jake will help you pack some stuff this afternoon, but it’s date night, so you’ve got exactly two hours. You can come back in the morning.”

Spencer's lip twitches, like he's about to argue, but then he stops himself. He nods curtly and unties the fancy cashmere sweater draped around his shoulders, hanging it carefully on a hook by the door. He hesitates when he notices Jake’s clothes tossed haphazardly alongside yours. After a moment, he huffs, shakes his head, and stomps out of the apartment.

You fight to suppress a grin as you turn to Jake, but he’s already beaming at you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You pretend to flick your hair off your shoulder with theatrical flair. “Oh, I know.”

He chuckles. “I can’t believe you just told your ex I’ve got a huge dick.”

You shrug, one shoulder rising nonchalantly. “You’ve got the ego to match, so I figured I could make an educated guess. Besides, it’s not like Spencer will ever know for sure.”

His brows shoot up. “Oh, so you were just guessing?”

Heat floods your cheeks, and suddenly his eyes are too intense to meet. “Well, obviously.”

He leans in, his hand tightening around yours, voice low and teasing—laced with a challenge that feels dangerously not like a joke. “Want to find out for real?”

Your breath hitches. Words abandon you. All you can do is stare at his face—too handsome and too tempting.

“Because I’d go a hell of a lot deeper than that weasel. So deep, you’d be screaming-”

The intercom buzzer cuts him off, and you’re hit with a wave of relief and frustration all at once. Your pulse is racing, your chest tight, and the thrum of your heartbeat fills your ears.

Jake chuckles, clearly amused by the timing, and leans back, releasing your hand to press the button on the intercom. He glances over at you, winks, and casually strides toward the lounge, sprawling out like he owns the place. Like he’s some modern-day Adonis—there to wind you up and then claim your couch like it’s his throne.

You force your limbs to move, opening the door for Spencer and helping him carry in the flattened cardboard boxes tucked under his arms. You lead him to the spare room—where all his abandoned belongings have been gathering dust for the past six months—and leave him to it.

You don’t have to ask Jake to help. The second you return to the living room, he stands, crosses the space without hesitation, and steps right up to you. His palm finds the back of your head as he pulls you in, pressing a warm, gentle kiss to the top of your hair.

You know he’s just doing what you asked—pretending to be your boyfriend. But the tenderness of the gesture feels heartbreakingly sincere. It sinks into your skin, fills your chest like warm water, and when he pulls away, he takes the comfort with him.

Your eyes trail after him as he walks toward the spare room, and you shamelessly ogle his ass on the way out. Then you collapse onto the lounge where he’d just been sitting, curling up in the lingering scent of his cologne. You tug a blanket from the wicker basket beside the couch and wrap it around yourself, clicking on a show you barely register—because all you can think about is the way Jake Seresin touches you.

This might not have been such a brilliant idea after all.

Spencer uses up his two hours like he paid for them, waiting until exactly 5:59 PM to dust off his palms on those stupid white pants—as if he hadn’t made Jake do all the heavy lifting—and announce that he “better get going.”

You give him a tight smile as you hold the door open, already half-relieved just watching him walk out. It's not that pretending to love Jake is hard—you do love him. It’s the reminder that all the lingering touches, the soft smiles, the stolen glances—they’re just an act. That’s what’s draining you.

The second the door clicks shut, you let out a long, theatrical sigh, like you’ve been holding your breath for the full two hours. “Oh, thank God. I don’t know how I’m going to survive a whole day tomorrow.”

Jake chuckles, but there’s something tight about it—like he’s forcing it out through gritted teeth. “Am I that hard to love?” he asks, and though his tone is teasing, something flickers behind his eyes that doesn’t feel like a joke.

Your brows knit. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...”

He steps closer, invading your space like he’s done all day—and you hate how much you don’t mind it anymore. In fact, you kind of want him to stay right there.

“What is it?” he murmurs, voice low and rough enough to make your skin prickle.

You swallow hard, suddenly aware of how close he is, how good he smells, and how charged the air between you feels. “It’s just Spencer, you know? Having him around is... exhausting.”

Jake’s lip quirks, but his eyes are sharp, studying you. “Oh? So you’re not struggling with this fake relationship thing at all? Not even a little confused? Frustrated? Having trouble remembering it’s not real?”

You blink, stunned silent. You’re not sure how, but you’re starting to believe Jake Seresin might actually be a mind reader.

“I-” The words catch in your throat, strangled by the weight of his stare. His piercing green eyes pin you in place, make you forget how to speak, how to breathe.

Then, just when it feels like you might combust, his smirk cracks into a grin and he takes a step back, letting the tension snap like a rubber band. “Alright then,” he says, clapping his hands together, “what’s for dinner, gorgeous?”

You inhale like you’ve just broken the surface of the water. Your lungs burn. Your head spins. This man is giving you whiplash.

It takes almost a full minute to regain control of your body, and when you finally do, you walk straight into the kitchen without giving Jake an answer. You can’t even look at him right now—but he has no trouble looking at you.

He watches you like he’s starving and you’re the feast. It makes focusing on dinner nearly impossible.

You busy yourself preparing the meal you planned yesterday—Italian sausage spaghetti with a pull-apart garlic loaf. You don’t usually go all out for dinner, but you’re using Jake’s presence as an excuse to cook something hearty and delicious. Maybe after eating, you’ll both be too full to maintain this unbearable sexual tension. He can crash on the couch, and you’ll curl up in bed. Or maybe you’ll take a long, steamy shower and do what you need to do to unknot the tension pulsing behind your hipbones.

Dinner comes together quickly, and after a few casual questions from Jake about the food, he drifts back to the couch, half-watching whatever show has been playing in the background for past few hours. You set the dining table just the way he asked—candles, wine, and soft music humming from the speaker on your bookshelf.

Finally, you place two full bowls of pasta on the table—opposite each other. Because you’re not really dating, so why would you sit beside him? To feel his warmth? Let him rest a hand on your thigh?

The thought alone sends a shiver down your spine.

You try to shake it off and glance at Jake—only to find him already watching you.

You clear your throat. “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, your dinner is served.”

He grins like a kid in a candy store, pushing off the couch and sniffing the air like a Loony Tunes character. “Damn, I think Phoenix might’ve been right. This is a full-on domestic fantasy.”

You roll your eyes and duck your head, hoping he doesn’t see the heat rising in your cheeks. “Just sit down and eat, Hangman. I’m tired and hungry.”

You flick off the kitchen lights, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of the candles. The atmosphere feels far more romantic than you intended. Is this what Jake wanted?

You don’t give yourself time to overthink it—because the food smells amazing, and there’s a very attractive naval aviator sitting across from you, looking like he was plucked straight from a dream.

You spend the first few minutes eating in silence, both too busy shovelling pasta into your mouths and tearing into buttery garlic bread to speak. Somehow, Jake even manages to make slurping spaghetti look hot—and you hate when people make noise while they eat.

“So,” you say, slowing your pace and setting your fork down, “did you want to stay here tonight or head back to your place?”

He keeps his eyes on his plate, as if avoiding yours will mask whatever he’s really thinking. “Up to you, darlin’. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well, Spencer did seem pretty suspicious about the whole thing… so I think it’s safer if you stay.”

His head snaps up, and that signature smirk spreads across his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you say, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks, “he might sniff around tomorrow. Like, literally. He might be a creep and notice your towel’s untouched, or that your side of the bed hasn’t been slept in, and-”

“You want to share the bed?” he asks, looking far too pleased with the idea.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Yeah,” he says, a low chuckle slipping out, “blind drunk.”

His eyes are too pretty, too intense, and your chest feels tight under their weight. You look away, eyes darting around the table until they land on the wine bottle.

“Well then,” you say, picking it up and refilling his glass, “drink up, Seresin.”

Two bottles of wine later, you’re both loose-limbed and laughing—less awkward about the day’s chaos, and a lot less anxious about sharing a bed tonight.

You giggle at one of Jake’s ridiculous jokes while clearing the table, and when he insists on helping clean up, you swat him away, telling him it’s all part of his domestic fantasy. He rolls his eyes but still hovers, drying dishes and pretending not to notice the way you keep throwing him side-eye glances every time he guesses wrong about where something goes.

“Do you want to shower?” you ask as you finish wiping down the stovetop.

His green eyes go wide, that crooked grin slipping across his face like sin itself. “Is this you offering?”

Your stomach flips, heat crawling up your chest. “I meant—do you want to shower first?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, almost disappointed. “Yeah, sure. If you don’t mind?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I did,” you mutter, turning back toward the lounge.

You listen to his footsteps fade toward the bathroom, then collapse onto the couch, burying your face in a pillow that smells maddeningly like him.

What the fuck are you doing?

Yes, you’ve always had a little crush on Jake, but you’re not delusional. He’s out of your league. You’ve made peace with that. You’ve always been happy just being his friend. So why does all of this feel so good? Why is it getting harder to remember that he doesn’t see you the same way?

He’s thrown himself into this charade like it’s more than just pretending, and it’s messing with your head. Does he want something more? Something casual? A few nights, maybe? Or... does he want you—the whole messy package?

The shower starts, and you groan into the pillow. You’re confused. You’re also so fucking horny. Red wine was a terrible idea.

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door creaks open. “All yours,” Jake calls, his voice smooth and casual as he walks toward the bedroom where he left his duffel bag.

You drag yourself upright, every step toward the bathroom a battle against the mental slideshow of naked, wet Jake. You shut the door, strip down, and step into the shower, letting the hot water calm your skin and chase away the ache blooming low in your belly.

You don’t have the guts to do what you really need to make that ache go away—not with Jake just a paper-thin wall away. The thought creeps in, bold and reckless, whispering what if you just called him in here? But then you laugh softly under your breath and shake it off. As if. The idea of Jake rejecting you would be a level of humiliation you’re not prepared to face tonight. Or ever.

You shut off the water, swipe a towel from the rack, and give yourself a quick dry before wrapping it snugly around your body. The bathroom is thick with steam, your skin flushed and dewy, your pulse still thudding from thoughts you shouldn't be entertaining.

You open the door to let in some air—only to nearly collide with Jake.

He’s right there. Shirtless. Grey sweatpants slung low, a towel around his neck, and an annoyingly cocky smirk on his lips.

“Damn,” he says, leaning one arm against the doorframe, eyes roaming blatantly. “I was coming to see if you drowned, but now I’m thinking maybe I should’ve brought more wine.”

You try to step back, but he follows, slipping inside like he belongs here. You grip your towel tighter.

“Jake,” you warn, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he says casually, his eyes far too warm for comfort. “This your idea of torture? Walk out here looking like a damn dream and expect me to just keep pretending?”

You’re not sure what’s pretending and what isn’t anymore, and you have no idea what his words mean. Is he just messing with you? He has to be.

“I didn’t ask you to come in.”

“And yet,” he says, grinning, “here I am.”

The heat in the room is stifling—and it's not just the steam. Jake moves in closer, crowding your space, eyes flicking from your lips to your towel and back. His fingers reach up, slow and deliberate, and tug lightly at the edge of the fabric resting on your collarbone.

“Think this is regulation towel length?” he teases.

“Do you want me to report you to HR?” you ask, trying not to smile. Your voice wobbles on the last word when his fingers brush across the swell of your breast.

“Only if HR gives out spankings,” he says with a wink.

You laugh, then immediately regret it, because the movement loosens the towel just slightly—and his gaze drops. The air between you crackles.

“Jake,” you murmur, breath hitching.

He leans in, his lips brushing your temple like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. “Say the word,” he whispers, voice lower than a dare.

You turn your face toward him, your lips just inches from his—and then:

BZZZZZZZZZZZT.

The intercom buzzes loudly from the living room, startling you both. You jump, and Jake curses under his breath.

“Saved by the buzzer,” you mutter, half annoyed, half relieved.

He takes a step back, eyes still dark with want, running a hand through his hair. “Or maybe cursed by it.”

You give him a pointed look. “Shut the door on your way out, Hangman.”

He backs out slowly, smirking the whole way. “You know I’m not going to forget this, right?”

You roll your eyes and wait for him to close the door before locking it for good measure. After drying off, you go through your usual skincare and haircare routines, trying not to think about whatever the hell just happened between the two of you. But one glance down the hall as you exit the bathroom makes your heart plummet.

Spencer is standing by the front door. And Jake—still very much shirtless—is looking smug as hell.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jake drawls, turning to Spencer with a wink. “We just finished up in the shower, if you know what I mean.”

You freeze like a deer in headlights, towel clutched to your chest. You feel like a naked model caught mid-pose in front of a life drawing class—except your ex is the one holding the sketchpad, and Jake is… well, Jake.

“Spencer,” you bite out, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I-I forgot my sweater.” He holds up the creamy cashmere one he’d left by the door, eyes darting anywhere but your body.

You raise a brow. “And that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again—clearly trying not to ogle you while very aware of the broad, half-naked man beside him who is allegedly your boyfriend. Jake’s green eyes darken the longer Spencer’s gaze lingers.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters. “I guess I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, thinking’s never really been your thing, huh, pal?” Jake cuts in, clapping a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Now if you don’t mind fucking off, I’d like to get back to round two with my very satisfied girlfriend. And just so we’re clear—if you show up before 9AM tomorrow, all you’re gonna hear is her screaming my name in ecstasy.”

Your body lights up like a struck match. You don’t even look at Spencer as Jake all but escorts him out the door. Your focus is entirely on the shirtless man—the ridiculously hot, dangerously cocky, fake boyfriend who just made you feel completely and utterly claimed.

You’re not sure if it’s the wine or the caveman behaviour, but suddenly, the idea of crossing that line doesn’t seem so dangerous anymore. In fact, it sounds like the best idea you’ve had in years.

Jake shuts the door and flicks the deadbolt before turning those dark green eyes on you. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, darlin’, and you’re gonna make my dreams—and Spencer’s nightmares—come true.”

His dreams?

Your breath catches in your throat. Then, like a startled chicken, you turn and bolt to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Your head spins as you scramble to grab the pyjamas stashed under your pillow. Every inch of your skin feels hypersensitive, like Jake’s gaze alone has lit up your nerve endings one by one.

Once you’re dressed and your face isn’t quite so scarlet red, you head for the bathroom. You hang up your towel—deliberately ignoring the sight of Jake’s hanging next to it—and start brushing your teeth. But the flutter in your stomach is relentless.

Jake appears a moment later and joins you silently, his eyes finding yours in the mirror. You try to avoid them, but your gaze keeps drifting back, always checking, always wondering. And every time, he’s still watching.

You rinse and spit, then flee the bathroom before your knees give out. You don’t bother with the rest of your night routine—you need sleep, or space, or maybe a total reset of your entire hormonal system.

You crawl into bed and flick on the TV perched atop your dresser, the hum of background noise a small comfort. But it does nothing to quiet the static under your skin when Jake steps into the room.

He flicks off the main light, shuts the door with a soft click, and then sits on the bed beside you. The mattress dips under his weight, and it feels like the whole room tilts with him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just sits beside you in the dim glow of the TV, his body so close you can feel the heat radiating off his bare skin.

You pretend to be engrossed in whatever’s on the screen, but your heart is thundering, and you can feel his gaze on you like a brand.

Then his voice, low and rough, slices through the quiet. “You always wear shirts like that to bed, or is this part of the fantasy?”

You try to scoff, but it comes out a little breathless. “You think everything’s about you.”

Jake chuckles. “You’re sitting here braless in a tissue-thin shirt, biting your lip like you want me to devour you—and I’m the one with the ego?”

You turn your head, ready to throw back some snark, but he’s already watching you with that look. That look that makes your insides clench and your breath catch. Like he’s starving. Like you’re the first real meal he’s had in days.

“Jake…”

His gaze drops to your lips, and his voice is rough around the edges when he says, “I’m not gonna make it through this night if you keep lookin’ at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you whisper, but even you don’t believe that.

Jake leans closer. “No? Then why’s your chest rising like that? Why are your pupils blown wide? Why is every part of you screaming touch me?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

He shifts toward you slowly, like a predator moving in, until his thigh brushes yours and his hand finds your jaw. His thumb drags lightly along your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, tugging at it just enough to make your breath stutter.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Just say the word.”

You stay frozen, heart galloping in your chest.

“Because if you don’t…” he leans in, voice barely audible now, “…I’m gonna lose every ounce of self-control I have left.”

Still, you say nothing. Can’t say anything.

Jake’s eyes search yours for a second longer. Then—

“Fuck it.”

He crashes into you like a storm. His mouth slants over yours, hot and possessive and desperate, like he’s finally giving in to something he’s been denying for far too long. His hands cup your face, then slide down, over your neck, your shoulders, gripping your waist like he needs to ground himself.

You gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping in to taste you. It’s not gentle. It’s fire and tension and not just one day, but years of pretending finally snapping all at once.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans against your lips and pushes you back into the mattress just slightly, moving over you, his body caging yours in without touching more than he has to.

You arch up into him, chasing his heat, his weight. And when his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just above your waistband, your breath catches in your throat.

He pulls back just enough to look at you—his pupils dark, his lips kiss-bruised. “Still pretending?” he breathes.

You shake your head, dazed. “Not even a little bit.”

You wake up warm. Too warm.

Jake Seresin is sprawled across half your bed, one leg tangled over yours and an arm wrapped around your waist like you’re his personal body pillow. His bare chest is pressed to your back and his breath ghosts hot across your neck with every slow, sleepy exhale.

You’re painfully aware of two things: one, you’re very, very naked. And two, so is he.

And then... you remember everything.

The kissing. The touching. The downright Olympic-level sex. The way he looked at you like you were something he’d been starving for.

Your body aches in the best way, but your brain is in full meltdown mode. You try to untangle yourself without waking him. Emphasis on try. Because the second you shift, Jake groans and tightens his arm around you.

“Nuh-uh,” he mumbles, voice still rough with sleep. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You huff, trying to wriggle free. “I have to pee.”

“Fine,” he says, releasing you with an exaggerated sigh. “But don’t even think about climbing out the window. You’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes as you slip out of bed, grabbing the closest shirt—his shirt—and tossing it over your head. It hangs low on your thighs, smelling like him and sex and very bad decisions.

By the time you return from the bathroom, Jake’s propped up on one elbow, watching you with the same hunger in his eyes as last night “Damn, you look better in my shirt than I do.”

You scoff and head for your dresser. “Don’t you get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

“Not when I’m this right.”

You grab a pair of shorts, but before you can pull them on, Jake is already moving. He slides off the bed, all muscles and tan skin, and corners you against the dresser.

“You know,” he murmurs, eyes dark and wicked as his fingers slip under the hem of his own shirt you're wearing, “you didn’t officially wake me up yet.”

Your heart kicks up a notch. “Is that a thing now?”

“Absolutely.” He leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw. “You gotta wake me up right, darlin’. Or I’m gonna be all cranky.”

You arch a brow. “Define right.”

He grins, lips brushing yours. “Tongue. Teeth optional.”

You laugh into the kiss he gives you—hot, deep, and toe-curling. His hands roam down your back, tugging you flush against him. You can feel he’s already half hard again, the cocky bastard.

But before things can spiral into round two, your phone buzzes loudly from the nightstand.

Jake pulls back with a dramatic sigh. “If that’s Spencer again, I swear to God-”

You smirk. “Jealous?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Jealous? Sweetheart, I just spent the night making you scream my name.”

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile, and he grins like he just won the damn lottery.

To Jake’s great disappointment, it is Spencer. He’s on his way over, and the motel he’s staying at is only five minutes away. You both overslept—but can you really be blamed? No way. You were up most of the night tangled together, doing something that definitely didn’t feel pretend.

“Come on, Romeo,” you say, tossing Jake his shirt. “Get dressed before Tybalt gets here.”

Jake pauses, one brow arched as he tries not to stare at your naked chest. “Did you just imply that you used to date your cousin?”

A light laugh bubbles out of you. “Not intentionally, but I’m surprised you know Shakespeare.”

He grins, smug. “A little knowledge never hurt anyone. Helps win the ladies over, too.”

He’s joking, you know he is—but the way he says ladies—plural—hits you like punch to the gut. That’s what Jake is: a ladies’ man. It was stupid to think this could be anything more than a bit of fun. Some stress relief between two friends who spent all day teasing each other until they snapped.

If anyone can do casual sex, it’s Jake Seresin. It doesn’t matter how many pretty words he said last night—you can’t let yourself believe he actually meant them.

“Hey,” he says gently, catching the shift in your energy. “You okay?”

You nod a little too quickly, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. Your nose starts to sting, and you blink fast, trying to will the emotion away. Who the hell cries after the best sex of their life?

You gather your clothes and retreat to the bathroom, needing a buffer between you and Jake’s curious, overly perceptive eyes. You dress quickly, trying not to think about how good his shirt felt against your skin.

It isn’t long before Spencer buzzes the intercom again, and you’re almost grateful. Jake doesn’t get the chance to press you, to ask about the look on your face that feels like it could crumble into a sob at any second.

You’ve really fucked up now—because you let yourself believe it might’ve meant something.

The two men spend the morning in the spare room, exchanging nothing more than grunts and sidelong glances while packing Spencer’s things into boxes. You don’t bother checking on them—you're not sure you can look at Jake right now anyway. So, you remain firmly planted on the couch, stuck in a spiral of your own damning thoughts.

Around midday, you consider offering them lunch, but then you remember the mischievous glint in Jake’s eyes when he said that “it helps win the ladies over,” and you quickly decide against it. Instead, you grab your keys, tuck your phone into your back pocket, and head toward the door.

“I’m heading out for a bit. Won’t be long,” you call out, not waiting for a reply before stepping out.

“Wait,” Jake’s voice calls after you as the door swings shut. But you pretend not to hear.

You stride toward the elevator, pressing the button more forcefully than necessary, but it doesn’t arrive fast enough. By the time the doors finally slide open, Jake is already in the hallway, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Hang on a second,” he says, stopping right beside you, raising a hand to hold your jaw gently.

When you step back, his face falls, confusion and dread flickering across his features.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you answer, stepping into the elevator.

But he follows you in, jaw ticking with tension. “Darlin’, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking I broke you.”

You shake your head. “I’m not broken.”

“Then what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” His voice softens, but the underlying concern is still very present.

You take a deep breath, averting your eyes to the floor of the elevator as you try to carefully assemble your thoughts. You don’t want to hurt him, but you also can’t ignore how wrong everything feels in your gut.

“I just... I can’t do this, Jake,” you say, your voice almost cracking.

He looks absolutely gutted, like you’ve just sucker-punched him.

“I know it shouldn’t be a big deal. Plenty of people do it without any consequences,” you ramble on. “But I think there could be some huge consequences if we keep doing this. There’s just too much on the line. And while the sex was—God, it was mind-blowing—I just don’t think I can handle you doing it with other people while I’m over here trying to... figure out what this is.”

The hurt on his face quickly morphs into utter confusion. “What the hell are you talking about, sweetheart?”

“This,” you gesture between the two of you. “Last night. Us having sex and the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.”

Now, he looks genuinely offended. His eyes widen, green irises flashing with disbelief. “You think that’s what this is?”

Your heart races, the pulse in your throat thrumming. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Jake lets out a short, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. He glances briefly at the elevator doors before locking his gaze on you, intense and unyielding.

“Is that what you think?” he asks, his tone a low warning.

Suddenly, you feel very small—not in a sad way, but in a vulnerable, exposed way. He steps closer, stalking toward you with predatory intent, and you instinctively back up against the elevator wall. His presence fills the small space, and the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable.

You swallow thickly and nod. Just a small movement, but it’s enough to make him pounce. He presses his body to yours, trapping you between him and the wall, the metal rail digging into your lower back as he cages you in.

“I thought I made it pretty fucking clear last night, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice low and almost dangerous. “But if I didn’t, then let me say it now.”

He pauses, eyes burning into yours as you breathe in each other’s air, hearts racing in sync.

“I want you. Only you. All of you,” he growls. “I’ve been waiting years to do what I did last night. And now that I’ve had a taste?” He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. “I’m never letting you go. You’re mine.”

Your mind goes blank. Your mouth is dry, and your heart’s thundering in your chest as his words hit you like a freight train.

“Say it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls you closer. “Tell me you understand.”

“I’m yours.” The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them, but they feel right. Like they were meant to be said.

Jake smirks, a wicked, cocky grin that makes his eyes sparkle with unspoken mischief. “Good.”

And just like that, his lips crash into yours—urgent, fiery, and full of need. The kiss is wild and untamed, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance. His hands drop to the curve of your ass, lifting you effortlessly, forcing your legs around his waist as he presses you harder against the elevator wall.

Every inch of your skin hums, the heat between you two scorching. You can’t get enough of him, his touch, the rawness of this moment. You claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, and before you can even think, you're already lost in him, all logic and restraint flying out the window.

But then, right on cue, your personal cockblock arrives. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Spencer stands there, completely flustered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Neither of you had pressed a button when you entered, but the look on Jake’s face suggests that it might have been intentional.

“Sorry, pal,” Jake grins, his lips bruised and swollen. “I just can’t get enough, you know what it’s like.”

Spencer’s mouth moves, but no words come out.

Jake casually takes the box from Spencer’s arms. “Let me help you with that. Go grab another one. Let’s get you out of here before you see more than you’re willing to, hm?”

Spencer nods woodenly, still staring in complete shock.

You can’t help the giggles that escape you as you slip past Spencer and out of the elevator, back toward your apartment.

There’s nothing fake about you and Jake anymore—not that there ever really was. And now, you can confidently say that Jake’s ego is as well-proportioned as the monster between his legs.

END.

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midnightzonzz · 24 days ago

Text

Entertaining the Locals

Warnings: smut, dp, very brief soz

One of the Boys masterlist

"Carlos" you moaned.

He chuckled lowly, pawing at your clothes in an attempt to get you out of them.

"I need you" he whined. "It's my home race, can't I have a piece of you?"

He pouted at you, those big brown eyes were pleading with you.

You weren't weak willed, but god you'd missed him being on the podium.

"But if I give you special treatment I'd have to do the same for Fernando, baby."

He huffed out a laugh. "I don't mind. If I call him he will be here in 5 minutes."

Your jaw dropped, small smile tugging at your lips. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. And Fernando was... well it had been a while.

"Fuck, okay fine. Call him."

Predictably, Fernando didn't even need an explanation. He was in Carlos' drivers room within minutes. Just the time it took for him to scooter from Aston Martin to Williams.

He strutted in with a massive grin and you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, chicos. How do you want me?"

They looked at each other like devils, and you quickly realised you'd been played. You just hoped you wouldn't regret it.

---

"Carlos" you moaned.

He smirked. Had you right where he wanted you, legs held up by his strong arms while he bounced you on top of him.

Your head was leaning back on his shoulder, you could barely hold yourself together with the angle at which he was pounding into you.

Fernando was watching, licking his lips as he watched your cunt stretch around his fellow Spaniard's cock.

Neither of them were small, and you weren't sure how much you could take with these two together.

Fernando kneeled in front of you, hand spreading you further, and brushed a thumb over your clit, just to see you shiver.

He sucked a couple of fingers in his mouth and when Carlos realised what he was about to do, groaned and slowed to a stop insode you.

A finger squeezed in next to Carlos' cock and you whimpered at the stretch.

"Do you think I can fit in aswell?"

You felt Carlos twitch inside you.

"I don't know. I could turn her over instead? Two of us might be too much for this poor little pussy" he cooed. The fact that they were talking about you as if you weren't there was doing funny things to your head.

"Please" you murmured weakly.

"You want that? You want us both inside you, nena?"

You nodded, hips grinding on Carlos in search of friction but he quickly stopped you and pulled you off him.

He repositioned himself, and turned you around so that you were facing him now.

You sank down on him once again, the change of angle stimulating new, neglected spots inside you and you let out a low moan.

You felt Fernando's presence behind you, and he bent you over, pressing you against Carlos' chest while he undressed himself.

"I guess it is a good thing I brought this, then"

You turned your head to look and in his hand was a tiny bottle of lube.

You laughed. "Fernando you are a lifesaver, and a pervert"

He chuckled, and soon his fingers were slicked up and down to the knuckle inside your ass while Carlos did his best not to move.

He opened you up carefully and squirted some more lube onto his cock before pressing into you.

The stretch made you gasp, and he pushed in further, inch by inch until they were both in to the hilt.

The three of you stayed there for a moment, breathing through it as you got use to the stretch.

"So fucking tight" Fernando groaned, and Carlos grunted in agreement.

"Can we move?" Carlos' voice was strained, and you shivered when his hands squeezed your hips.

"Yeah, please"

They pulled out at the same time, and fucked back into you so fast you went dizzy.

They increased the pace little by little, until they were pretty much holding you in place while they fucked you.

The three of you moaned in tandem, pushing each other towards the edge. Your back arched at the feeling of both pairs of hands on your skin.

Carlos had a death grip on your hips, and Fernando had one hand playing with your tits, the other drifting further down until it met where Carlo's cock was plunging into you.

His fingers slid over your clit, sending a shock through your body so he pressed harder, circling the sensitive nerves quickly and your moans increase in volume.

"I'm gonna come! Fuck- Nando!"

Your voice wavered, and it didn't take long for you to come with a shout, rythmically clenching around them which made them fuck you faster to chase their own highs.

It didn't take long, Fernando growled into the back of your neck while Carlos had his head thrown back in pleasure.

They pulled out, and Carlos offered you the use of his shower, which you gladly accepted, you did have come dripping down your thighs after all.

The boys decided to join you, and they helped you get clean. A deep clean.

Fingers and mouths were used and shared, and for almost an hour you found yourself in between the two Spaniards lamenting and celebrating their qualifying results.

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midnightzonzz · 29 days ago

Text

One of the Boys (the paddock bunny series)

Season 1

🇭🇺 Fastest Laps (Max Logan George, ft Charles & Lando) 🇳🇱 Lando's treat (Lando ft Charles & Max) 🇮🇹 Invasive questions (Lando & Oscar) 🇦🇿 Out in Q1 (Lando) 🇸🇬 Thank you Daniel (Max & Daniel) 🇺🇸 🇲🇽 🇧🇷 Triple Header (Pierresteban & Max ft Carlos Lando & Charles) 🇺🇸 Sin City (George & Lewis ft Max) 🇶🇦 What the hell is a Lestapstri (Max Charles & Oscar) 🏎 And with that, the 2024 season comes to an end (Whole grid) Epilogue (2025 rookies)

Season 2

Australia 🇦🇺

-> Ollie's no good very bad weekend -> Lando's pole -> Double the treat, double the trouble

China 🇨🇳

-> It's a marathon not a sprint -> Birthday boy -> The 50th McLaren 1-2 (+ a bunch of loosers)

Japan 🇯🇵

-> Poles and Streaks -> The Lion, the Birthday boy, and the Rookie (and a wardrobe)

Bahrain 🇧🇭

-> Anything you can do I can do better -> Blood, Slick and Tears

Saudi Arabia 🇸🇦

-> Oh Lando... -> History repeats (sort of) -> Kissing walls (bonus blurb)

Miami 🇺🇲

-> Friday night fever, Saturday nightmare

-> Hat Trick

Imola 🇮🇹

-> Pity Party

-> Max finally gets his prize

Monaco 🇲🇨

-> Monaco, baby! ft. a special guest

Spain 🇪🇸

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midnightzonzz · 29 days ago

Text

Monaco Baby! ft. a special guest

Warnings: smut, balcony sex, rough sex, implied subspace, a special guest makes an appearance ^^

One of the Boys Masterlist

The cheers were deafening, even from inside his apartment, which wasn't far away from the track.

You knew he wanted to go out partying later, it being a historic race for him and the team, but he wanted a moment with you, too. To celebrate properly, just the two of you, like he hadn't been able to do for a while.

You knew where he kept a spare key, so you made yourself a drink while you waited, on the small balcony, looking at the crowds chanting and laughing.

You smiled when you heard the front door open, and set down your glass just as he spotted you out on the balcony.

Within seconds, his bags were on the floor and his shirt was off while he made his way to you, and crowded you against the stone railing.

"Did you see me stick it to Charles in the last lap?" his hands found your hips and he turned you around so you were facing the view. His voice was low and sultry, as if talking about the race was foreplay to him.

"I did" you giggled at his barely contained lust "3 whole seconds... impressive"

"It is, isn't it?" Cockiness dripped from his every word. "I got a fucking hat-trick, and now I'm going to get my reward"

Your dress was quickly bunched up around your hips and he groaned softly at your lack of underwear.

"Surprise" you giggled.

"You're going to kill me, baby"

He bent you over, exposing you further as he licked his lips in anticipation. He knelt down, spread you, and licked a broad stripeover your clit and through your wet cunt to get a taste of you.

You shivered and let out a soft sigh, elbows propped up on the cool stone.

"Fuck, so fucking sweet for me"

His groans rumbled against you as he dove in, savouring the moment, pushing his tongue inside you.

How he managed to make you feel so good with his tongue you didn't know, but your soft moans only encouraged him, and in no time your legs were trembling, and dripping with drool and come.

God, knows how long you were there for, but he took his time opening you up on his fingers, those damn fingers that were so long and thick they felt almost like a cock.

But they weren't much conpared to his actual cock, even longer and thicker as you felt it prodding at you entrance, ready to take the plunge.

"Ready, baby?"

You nodded, but Lando wanted more than that so he gripped you jaw and turned your head roughly to look at him.

"I said, are you ready, baby?"

"Yes" you gasped, eyes fluttering in bliss and he chuckled before letting you flop back down onto the railing and pushed himself inside, without stopping once, until he was fully inside you.

You moaned and panted, doing your best to accomodate the stretch, breathing through it as he almost blacked out with how tight you were around him.

Once his breathing was evened out, he looked down at your cunt drooling pathetically around him and kicked your feet apart to make you spread your legs further.

"You want me to fuck you?"

You frowned, still breathing through the stretch, confused by his question. "Yes?"

He chuckled darkly. You hadn't got it yet.

"You sure?" He accompanied his words by a slow roll of his hips, enough to make you keen as he rubbed all the right sopts inside you.

"Yes-" your back arched, pushing your ass against him. "Fuck me, Lando"

He licked over his lips, almost in a trance, fully on an ego trip as he grabbed you hair and pulled your head back so that he could see your face while he loomed over you.

"Then beg for me"

A broken sound escaped your open mouth as a fire ignited in your belly.

Oh he was in the mood. The mood to leave you shaking and gasping and twitching, ruined for anyone else.

"Lando, please. I need it... I need you to fuck me s-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence before he pulled out and slammed back in with as much force as he could muster.

A broken cry spilled from your lips, and Lando did it again, bullying his cock inside you until he eventually let go of your hair to grab your hips, for his stability as much as yours.

He was obsessed with the obscene squelch of your cunt as you got wetter, and the way it was stretching around his girth so perfectly.

Then suddenly he slowed down a bit, instead using his grip on you to pull you back against him roughly, forcing noises out of you on every thrust.

He was so deep, you had no doubt you were going to feel the bruising, possibly at the next race. But when one thought about it (which you weren't doing much of at that moment) that might even have been his intention.

Make you too sore to fuck anyone else for a while. Not that you'd need to if his plans to win in Spain would come to fruition. But just in case...

He sped up again, knocking into your cervix on every stroke, and he lifted your upper body up with a hand around your neck, making you lightheaded as he babbled on in your ear.

"You gonna come for me, darling?"

You nodded desperately, just about tasting the first twinges of release bubbling inside you.

"Yeah? Already that desperate to come, baby?"

"Yes-" you managed to choke out. "M'gonna come Lando!"

But he just laughed meanly and pulled out, and you slumped against the railing.

"Wha-"

He swiftly picked up your unsteady form and carried you inside, and unceremoniously dumped you on his bed before crawling back over you and entering you again quickly.

He built the pace back up, holding your legs open against your chest, and the angle was perfect to watch your sloppy cunt take everything he was giving you.

"Look baby, look how big I am inside you..."

You looked down and indeed, there was a slight bulge, which he pressed down on hard, and you screamed his name as he forced an orgasm out of you, watching you gush all over him as he helped you ride it out with more languid thrusts.

"That's it, baby. Good girl, m'gonna make you come again, okay?"

You were barely conscious enough to respond, but you nodded anyway, desperate for him to touch you some more.

He went down on you again, once you were both fully undressed, kissing his way across your skin, claiming a path down your stomach until he got to his destination.

He stroked a thumb over the small scar on your thigh and quietly muttered "I'm sorry", just to himself, before lowering his head to get another taste of you. You gasped at the attention, and just as he was sending your mind even hazier with special attention on your neglected clit, he froze when a knock sounded at the door.

His eyes widened and he looked at you laying so prettily underneath him and he cursed.

"Who is it?!" He chanced, hoping whatever it was could wait until later.

"It's Jenson. Just wanted a chat. I can come back later if you're busy..."

Shit.

Lando gazed at you , and suddenly had a thought.

"Hey, baby, you with me?" He whispered at you, followed by a quick peck on the forehead.

"Mmhmm" you nodded "don't stop..."

Lando smirked and rubbed himself against you, making you sigh.

"Do you mind if Jenson comes in? Would you like that?" He was speaking so gently, and with the growing need for him to be back inside you, you would have agreed to anything in that moment.

"Yeah... Yeah anything just please don't stop" you gasped when his tip caught on your entrance and Lando groaned.

"Gonna be back in just a few seconds, okay?"

You whined, but ultimately let him go, replacing his cock with your fingers swirling around your entrance and over your clit for some relief.

Lando opened the door and peeked his head out, and Jenson imediately noticed his undressed state and the flush on his face.

"Oh, god. I'll come back later then, ay?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Lando chuckled. "Uhm actually, if you want to you can join us. She's a bit needy right now and... well two heads are better than one. So to speak"

Jenson's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he cleared his throat. "Uhhh... sure. Okay. Why not. Groovy."

Lando led him over to you and his breath hitched at the sight of you, all fucked out and pliant, and touching yourself on Lando's bed.

"Oh my days..." He tentatively stroked your trembling thigh "What do you need me to do?"

Lando smiled, and repositioned you so you were on your hands and knees, facing Jenson.

"You can fuck her mouth, if you want"

The older man almost combusted on the spot.

He unzipped his pants and shuffled over, and Lando slid back inside you while you busied yourself with Jenson's cock, kissing the tip before wrapping your lips around his head to suck on it gently.

As you took it further, you felt him grow harder in your mouth and soon you were doing your best not to gag as Lando's thursts made him hit the back of your throat.

They got into a rhythm, and Jenson could hardly believe what he was seeing. He didn't think he'd be having threesomes with Lando Norris, but Monaco was a magical place, he supposed.

As Lando's thrusts got a bit rougher again, you could feel another knot forming in your stomach.

You were getting there, but this lazy back and forth between them wasn't quite enough, so you pulled off of Jenson and whined.

"Lando, I'm close-"

He didn't hesitate, he lifted you up, your back against his chest and slammed into you, one hand wrapping around your neck, the other finding its way to your clit.

The slippery press of his fingers was exactly what you needed and Lando felt you tighten around him.

"Gonna come, baby? Show Jenson how pretty you look when you come? Go on, then, that's a good girl..."

Your entire body shook with the force of it, and Lando wasn't too far behind with the rhythmic clenching around him, and it didn't take him long to come insode you with a shout, and it was quite intense given how long he'd been holding it off for.

Jenson stroked himself, open mouthed at the sight of your two sexy younger bodies entertwined in bliss as you panted into each other's mouths.

Lando lay you back down, letting you catch your breath before he crawled over the the older brit.

"What-"

"Can I suck you off?"

Jenson blinked. "I... sure."

Lando smirked and slithered onto the floor, looking up at Jenson through his lashes while he took him into his mouth and hummed.

Jenson was hesitant to move, so he just enjoyed the sight of Lando on his knees, looking so pretty as he took him, to Jenson's surprise, like an absolute champ.

Lando took one of his hands and placed it in his hair, and Jenson gave an experimental tug which made the younger driver groan around him.

"Fuck-"

He gave a shallow thrust, and when Lando didn't complain he went deeper, and deeper until Lando was drooling as he deepthroated him expertly.

"Fuckin' hell, Lando..." he was slowly losing his grip on reality as he watched tears forming in those wide innocent eyes. "I didn't know you were... like this..."

Lando hummed and Jenson grunted, orgasm looming ever closer. "You're so good, fuck- you gonna take it? Take all of it, yeah?"

Lando nodded and sucked even harder, and Jenson eventually lost it, moaning as he watched Lando swallow around him, indeed taking it all, not losing a single drop.

Jenson released his hold on Lando's hair, and they both glanced at you, who were smiling lazily as you watched them from the bed.

They looked back at each other, in sync.

"Good?" Lando asked, and Jenson huffed out an incredulous laugh.

"Yeah, okay..." he panted, lips curling into a soft smirk.

"Now, I officially forgive you for taking 'Monaco, baby' from me"

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midnightzonzz · 1 month ago

Text

note: this is a very short fiction with dub con. if you don’t like anything of that sort, please do not read!

“She’ll be fine, just keep going,” Bucky encouraged Bob to continue his thrust, though y/n slightly pushed at the younger man’s lower body. It’s been a long night, and the alcohol is making y/n’s head spin. That wouldn’t stop Bucky, but Bob, on the other hand, was too sweet.

“I think she may pass out. Maybe we should-“ Bob tried to say slow down, but Bucky slapped the back of his head. “Either you keep going, or I’ll start,” Bucky said with a straight face, only making Bob look at him with his eyes now glowing.

“I’m not here to steal her from you, Robert, but one thing you’ve gotta understand about women is their games. She teased us all night, drank, and allowed men to touch her and flirt with her. She made her move, and now it’s ours, isn’t that right, y/n?”

Bucky lightly grabbed a handful of y/n’s hair and made her look up at him. “S-Sorry, I wasn’t-“ y/n tried explaining herself, but Bucky shushed her by letting her hair go with a small push.

“Yeah, shut it. I know what kind of girl you are. Dealt with them for too many years, and I promise you, I won’t disappoint you in becoming the man you want. Now, fucking take him while I get undressed,”

Bucky walked off to the bathroom that was inside his room, while Bob continued to thrust his hips, gradually getting faster until he was slamming into her.

The wind being knocked out of y/n’s body made Bob’s mind fuzzy. The man had too many mixed emotions about feeling bad for her drunken self, but also wanting to take advantage.

She had made him so many tonight, and she knew she was doing it. Even though they’ve never dated, talked about dating, or even made moves on each other, Bob always thinks she shouldn’t be vulnerable and pretty around other men. He wanted her to himself — And, of course, to Bucky, the man who gives him some sort of confidence.

“H-He’s gone, just please — Please give me a break,” y/n tried to keep herself together as her walls began to flutter around his cock. “I can’t do that, y/n, and you know that. You should’ve just kept your distance today. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to be in this position,”

Y/n whined as she released around the man, not being able to hold it anymore. Bob wasn’t exactly a person she’d thought she’d have sex with because of his shyness and awkwardness, yet this was one of the best orgasms she’s ever had.

Y/n continued to plead until Bucky made his way back out from the bathroom. He was naked, cock throbbing with a smirk on his face.

“You’ve been doing good, Robert. You’ll deserve a treat someday,” Bucky said as he rubbed the back of Bob's back. Y/n caught a quick glance at Bob’s face and saw how hard he blushed at Bucky’s comment.

“And, for you? Oh, you’re getting a treat right now,” Bucky said as he grabbed y/n’s face to guide his cock towards her mouth. “Bucky, it’s too big-“ y/n tried her best to plead, but that wasn’t enough.

Bucky’s cock filled her mouth in seconds, barely letting her breathe. “Oh, yeah,” Bucky groaned as he forced himself deeper into y/n’s throat. “I-I didn’t know she could do that,” Bob awkwardly stuttered as his hand traced up her body to caress her face.

“Oh, there’s a lot more she can do, isn’t that right, princess? I bet she can take two at once in a different position. We’ll find out some other time, yeah?”

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midnightzonzz · 1 month ago

Text

Hell on Heels, part two.

pairing: rhett abbott x tillerson!afab!reader

summary: you made the devil a deal; he made you pretty, he made you smart and rhett abbott she’s coming after you.

warnings: everyone calls reader ‘honey’, sweet rhett but also asshole rhett, the tillersons (they need their own warning tbh but i love a good forbidden romance), unprotected p in v, car sex, a wee bit of rhett begging, no use of y/n or description of reader, not proofread

word count: 3.6k words

author’s note: eventually I want them to have sex in a place that isn’t rhett’s truck, i started writing the next part for this before this was even finished so!!! this isn’t nearly as good as the last part but it sets me up for a great third part. as always, enjoy!!!

read the first part here!

You slipped a coin in the jukebox that sat in the corner of the Pit Bar, flipping through the songs before landing on Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood. A small smile replacing the previous frown you had as the music started over the speakers. Your frown was the result of Rhett Abbott, he’d apparently fucked you and forgotten to text you. The girls had brought you out, their treat, in a desperate attempt to get THE Honey Tillerson back to her normal self.

“Wait so he actually fucked you?” Ash whispered across the table as you sat back down, taking a sip of the mixed drink in her hand as she awaited for your answer with bated breath.

“Mhm, nice and good. It was all hot and sweaty too, after the rodeo y'know?” You giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl with the way they were treating this.

To be far, this was a long time coming. You’d been after this man for as long as any of them could remember, unconditionally loyal to a man who wasn’t that way for you. To them, hearing that he’d finally kissed you and then fucked you is truck was the news of the century. Especially in a small town like Wabang.

“He finally grew some balls I guess, shoulda done that the second you told him to his face you were gonna marry him. Freshman year, remember?” Taylor teased, poking you in your side as you covered your face in embarrassment.

“I am never living that down, you guys bring it up like everytime we talk about him.” You groaned, burying your face further into your hands and distorting your words slightly. “Besides, he totally choked it. He hasn’t texted me since that night. And guess what Luke told me this morning? Rhett and Maria were caught going to the motel, the same fuckin’ night he fucked me.”

“That whore, what the fuck!” Ash whisper-yelled, dropping her jaw open at the bombshell of news. “I’m gonna need another fuckin’ drink if you keep droppin’ bombs like this, Honey.”

“Yeah, I’ve made some sort of peace with it. I’ve been second to her our entire lives, shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up about it.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the drink in front of you and making direct eye contact with none other than the man you were speaking about.

The news had initially hurt when Luke told you. Then you thought about it and realized that you simply were never going to be better than Maria, she wasn’t at fault here and being upset with the other woman did you no good. Your knuckles had gone white when the words left your brother’s mouth, how could you have reacted any other way? You’d finally slept with the one man you’d been yearning for your entire life only to find out he then slept with someone else directly after. Didn’t she smell you on him? See the red lipstick peppered on his skin or the collar of his shirt?

“Tay, come sing with me?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at the girl sitting next to you, even pouting your lips for extra measure.

“Cowboy Casanova?” She asked, smiling happily when you shook your head yes.

It was the perfect ‘revenge’ song, Carrie knew how to write her songs and she had rent to pay with this one. The bar had finally started to pick up and it was simply the perfect moment to, subtly, call Rhett out on his actions. Sure he had no ties to you but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give you basic respect and tell you he didn’t want you the way you wanted him. You made sure the cowboy hat, a new one you had bought earlier today, was snug on your head and your makeup was still in place before dragging Taylor up to the stage with you. The drinks had started to feel nice and warm, tipsy was the only time you’d openly sing like this. Especially such a directed song like this one.

“You better take it from me, that boy is a disease.” You sang loudly, making direct eye contact with Rhett who had his arm around Maria next to him.

His face screwed up at the lyrics once he learned you were singing about him, and to him. Maria whispered something in his ear, making a face you couldn’t quite decipher when he shook his head yes and whispered something back to her.

“He’s a curse, he’s like a drug. You get addicted to his love.” The two of your voices harmonizing beautifully, prancing around the stage and captivating the audience in a way that seemed to anger Rhett. But, unlike him, the audience simply thought you were performing to have a good time and not to get back at him.

The group of girls you came with had started chanting your names, whooping and hollering from the table they sat at, being your biggest fans without getting swallowed in the sea of bar patrons.

“I see that look on your face, you ain’t hearing what I say.” Is the lyric that caused Rhett and Maria to get up and storm out of the bar, not another soul in the place giving a single shit that his masculinity had been hurt by a Carrie Underwood song.

You finished the song off with a bang, bowing with Taylor as the crowd gave you a standing ovation. It was the most thrilling thing you’d done all week and you loved it, it felt nice to let him know he wasn’t shit. He called you Hell on Heels and you’d be damned if you didn’t live up to it, you were coming for him. The girls gave the two of you another round of hollers as you approached the table.

��Did you see them storm out?” Ash giggled, tilting her head towards the table they had previously been sitting at.

“Don’t be a two timin’ bitch next time.” You smiled, taking the last sip of your drink and basking in the glory of what just happened You’d finally actually stood up for yourself and damn if it didn’t feel fucking good.

You’d spent your entire night at the bar, chatting with the girls about anything and everything between. Mostly gossiping about the look Maria had on her face when she realized you were singing about Rhett. The rest of your family had been asleep when you got home, it made it way easier to go to your room without a million questions about who, why, when and where. You hung up your hat on the rack right inside the door of your room, taking in a deep breath before exhaling shakily. Yeah, it felt good to tell Rhett off that way but you still had some love for him and that would never change. The whole situation was a little heartbreaking for you. You were hopeful that dreamland would fix all your problems, take you to a world where he only wanted you.

“Rhett Abbott is at the door sayin’ he needs to speak with you.” Billy’s tone laced with confusion, anytime one of the boys showed up at the door it was never for you, looking over at where you sat on the couch.

You got up from the couch and walked to the door, giving Billy a look that said ‘please give me a second’ and he walked off. Turning your attention to the man on your porch you wanted to burst into laughter, he was pissed and you knew why.

“We need to talk.” Rhett stated, arms crossed as he waited for you to step outside.

“About what, because if you wanna talk about what happened at the Pit Bar I distinctly remember you leavin’ with someone who wasn’t me.” You closed the door behind you and leaned up against it, waiting for him to get to whatever the hell his point was.

“I’m not your boyfriend, Honey-“

“Exactly, so why are you here?” You cut him off, raising your eyebrows at him, ready to tell him if that’s what he came to say it could’ve been a text.

“What?” This time he was confused, not expecting you to have agreed with him right off the bat.

“You’re not my boyfriend, so why are you here? You’re angry that I did what I wanted at the bar yet you get to run off with Maria the second you don’t want to deal with me. You’re not my boyfriend but you wanna fuck me in your truck after you win finals, don’t forget you took Maria to a motel after bein’ with me.” Your words were calm, too angry to give him the satisfaction of seeing your emotions. His eyes got big at the mention of the motel, he was trying to figure out how the hell you knew. “Luke told me, don’t sneak around in a small town and think it won’t get around.”

“Don’t you dare bring her into this. This is between the two of us.” He hissed, pointing a finger in your face.

“Have you no respect for me, Rhett Abbott? You don’t get to sneak around with the both of us. Have you no respect for Maria? Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” You rolled your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, choosing to ignore the finger in your face to save whatever dignity he hadn’t taken.

“Honey-“

“No, Rhett. It’s my turn to speak. I’ve been second fuckin’ best to Maria my entire life, every single turn she was unintentionally one upping me. I don’t deserve this shit, Rhett. If I wanted a man who couldn’t commit I’d take notes from some other girl in town, that night in your fuckin’ truck gave me a single sliver of hope that I’d finally come out on top. That you’d finally decide I was the one. So much for bein’ a good luck charm. Good bye, Rhett Abbott.”

You turned around and slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you before he got any ideas to come in after you. Unbeknownst to you, he’d come to apologize. He’d realized the way he acted on both the nights you mentioned was unacceptable, he was going to man up and say he was sorry but you went off on him. Told him to shut up and didn’t give him a chance to speak. He placed his fist on your front door and laid his head down next to it before he realized you really weren’t coming back outside and he walked away.

“What’d he want?” Billy asked, he’d taken your spot on the couch and was now eating the breakfast you had previously prepared for yourself.

“To talk.” Is all you responded with, as much as you wanted to confide in him all your words would make it back to Luke. That was something you absolutely didn’t want to deal with, so you opted for pretending everything was fine and dandy instead.

You found yourself hesitating when you went to block Rhett’s number, for some reason you just couldn’t fucking do it. All the what ifs flooded your mind and no matter how angry you were with him, you’d always be one call away. Ready to make everything feel okay, even for just five minutes before he found solace inside another girl. You threw your phone on your bed with a frustrated groan, trying to think of all the ways he went from praising you in his truck to being the biggest asshole you knew. That was hard to beat when you had one for a brother.

You decided not to dwell on it and get ready for the day ahead of you, you had nothing planned but if you knew one thing it was that you didn’t live a boring life. By the time you’d finished getting ready and had eaten something, making sure Billy didn’t get to it when you turned your back, your phone had been blown up by your girlfriends asking if you wanted to go to the bar tonight. Of course, you said yes. You double checked your makeup and made your way down to the bar that took Rhett Abbott away from you, he did it himself but the bar solidified it.

“Hey sweet girl, Honey.” Ash greeted you, kissing your cheek as you sat in the same booth you always did when your group attended the bar.

“Always so welcoming.” You smiled, scoping out the place as you sat. Your eyes landed on none other than Rhett Abbott, and god did he look handsome. His signature cowboy hat wasn’t what got you, it was the small tufts of hair sticking out of the side untamed. “I didn’t know moving on from him was going to be so damn hard.”

“I mean, you did fuck him like three days ago. Let yourself live.” Taylor pointed out, rubbing your back in support.

“True but he just looks so…fuckable.” You pouted, watching him tilt his head back in laughter.

“So are you and look where it got him.” Ash took a sip of her beer, eyeing you up playfully. “Fuck him one more time to get him out of your system.”

You contemplated what she said for the rest of the night, your attention remaining on Rhett when it could be. You noticed Maria was here too, but not once had she interacted with Rhett or made any indication that she wanted to speak to him. He hadn’t paid her any attention either. His attention was on you everytime you weren’t looking at him, he wasn’t a man to grovel but you were making him reconsider it all. Your anger at him this morning turned him on a bit, not that he’d admit that to anyone other than himself. After failing to apologize he’d given Maria a call, called it off with her completely. He told her the plain old truth, that sneaking around with her wasn’t worth it when he could be with you and feel on top of the goddamn world. He felt no shame or guilt after he did, almost contemplated telling you what he’d done just to prove a point to no one but himself.

“Can we talk?” Rhett asked, walking up to your table of girls and staring directly at you. Admiring the low cut of your shirt and the way your red lipstick had slightly smudged from the straw in your drink.

“Uhm, sure. I’ll be back ladies.” You smiled at the girls before giving them a confused look and scooting out of the booth, following Rhett out of the bar and to the side of his truck.

“I came to your house to apologize this mornin’, Honey.” He spoke softly, no longer the stoic man he was just a minute ago. You took in a deep breath as you contemplated his words. “I called it off with Maria, all the way off. Honey, I need it to be you.”

“Rhett-”

“Look, let me talk this time.” He mocked your words from this morning, a small smile playing on his lips as he spoke.

“Okay, hit me.” You spoke softly, unsure of where this conversation was going and if you were going to lose your pants by the end of it. You counted on the fact that you’d end up folded in half in his backseat.

“I came to apologize for how idiotic I was, for one sneaking behind your back. I’ve been stringin’ you along for awhile and I shouldn’t, you’ve been nothin’ but faithful and supportive of everythin’ I’ve done. Secondly, for storming out of the bar and just bein’ an ass in general. You blew up at me before I could say anythin’ else, which is valid because the first thing out of my mouth was ‘i’m not your boyfriend’ and i’ve regretted it all fuckin’ day. Honey, I want- fuck I need to be your boyfriend. If you aren’t ready I’ll wait for you-”

You cut off his words by smashing your lips to his, you’d think over his words later and truly process them when you weren’t so incredibly turned on by an idiot saying he needed to be your boyfriend. This was probably as affectionate as Rhett was able to be and you’d happily take it. Your hands intertwined themselves with the hair on the back of his head, pushing your body completely against his. His hands found themselves at your waist, holding you still as he bit your bottom lip and explored the inside of your mouth with his tongue when you gasped.

“Rhett.” You whined against his lips, pulling at his hair softly in a plea to get him to do what you wanted but you weren’t even sure what that was.

“I know, sweet girl. I know.” He whispered, disconnecting your lips and pulling back to admire the fading love bite he gave you last time. “C’mon, in the truck.”

He helped you get in the backseat, positioning you on his lap once again. Your lips found his again while your hips ground down against his, both of you groaning at the action. His hands tangled themselves in your hair, tugging on it slightly to get you to lean your head back and give him access to your neck. He placed open mouth kisses from the top of your jaw to the end of your neck, nipping occasionally and soothing it with his tongue. Rhett was rock hard the second he saw you walk into the bar hours ago, but you grinding down on him had him harder than he was the first time he had you in his truck.

You fumbled with the buckle of his belt, your fingers slipping and not quite able to get it in your frenzy to remove his pants. A small cry escaped before Rhett shushed you, placed a kiss to the top of your head, and unbuckled his belt. He lifted you up just enough for him to get his jeans pushed down around his ankles, relishing in the fact that his dick wasn’t heavily compressed in his jeans.

Immediately you went to sink to your knees, went to pull his boxers down and put him in your mouth like you’d been waiting to do since the first time you slept together.

“No.” He rasped, holding you where you were.

“What?”

“Need to be inside of you, right now. Don’t have time for that.” He groaned, yanking your jeans and underwear down in one yank.

You shook your head yes and kicked your jeans off, straddling his waist and unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing just enough to see the tattoo on his chest. You traced it, admiring it.

“Honey, please.” Rhett begged, his chest flushing red.

The fact that you had him underneath you begging would forever be one of the best things you ever accomplished, you absolutely would not tell the girls about it though. It would be your little secret. You would probably think of it every night you had your hands down your pants, cumming to the thought of him.

You stroked him a few times before lining him up with your entrance and slowly sliding down.

“Fuck, Honey. I love you.” He groaned, laying his head against the back of the seat.

You froze, did he just? What the fuck. You loved him too but this was supposed to be a one and done for you, but you were now realizing he thought you were- oh no. Should you say it back? Pretend like you never heard him? Make a noise to acknowledge him?

Rhett on the other hand was now beating the shit out of himself internally because how could he say that shit out loud. All he was doing was making the situation worse between the two of you by putting you in this weird limbo.

The both of you elected to ignore the fact that he said it, instead focusing on how you were bouncing on top of him. One of your hands braced against the back window and the other softly planted on his chest, using him as leverage.

“Lean back, I wanna ride the bull.” You whispered into his ear, getting a small laugh in response. Both of you exchanging small smiles.

He eventually got tired of the pace you had set, wrapped both his arms around your lower back and set his own pace. Thrusting up into you like it was his full time job. Holding you close to him, like he sensed that you were debating not seeing him again. He’d made up his mind about you and you made up yours, but they contradicted. He didn’t want to let you go and yet, you knew you had to. Maybe. Rhett would always be your kryptonite, deep down you knew you’d always find yourself back with him but if you never gave yourself a chance to find ‘better’ would you ever regret it?

He painted your insides white with a low groan and a mumble of Fuck, Honey. You weren’t far behind him, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm washed over you. He didn’t let you go or pull out, he just stayed there. Enjoying some sense of normalcy before you both left his truck and things could change, maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. He wasn’t taking his chances, not when it came to his sweet ol’ Honey.

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