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planete777 · 9 months

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BAD INFLUENCE・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 2!

IN WHICH. getting high was never on oscar's roster. getting high and enjoying it with y/n and lando wasn't either, but that just makes it much more... exciting. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 16+, suggestive content, drug use (as per), high hotness pt 875443, oscar cameo (woop woop 🥳), make outs, first time getting high, oscar being whipped for lando and y/n? wbk, a bit of mxm content between drivers, shotgunning coz it's my most favourite thing ever

NOTE. LANDOSCAR!! this may probably be my favourite fic and is my longest so im looking forward to you guys reading it!!! well overdue in my humblest opinion, but i delivered hehe. enjoy my luvs and a very happy new year in advance mwah mwah mwah 😚😚 i appreciate all of you readers, thank you for all your support 💓💓💓

SIDENOTE. my askbox is now closed for requests 🤍

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu (use askbox above if you'd like to be added!)

frankly speaking, a 'you up?' text from oscar piastri, whose entire persona was an antithesis of what that type of message usually pertained to, isn't something lando was expecting at 1am after a tedious race weekend. knows oscar to be one who sleeps in too early, as if his circadian rhythm was built upon the foundation of a restrictive curfew, and even fathoming the fact that he is awake past 12 is rather peculiar.

yet, with the mutually pre-established sense that lando would be awake (he's probably an insomniac, but it's not too concerning for him to actually check), and that oscar was asking if he was just for the sake of, most likely because he's, unusually, unable to sleep, lando replies with much sluggish vim.

fingers moving as if they played in a dream, he's able to reply with 'yh, why????' and sends it off before throwing his phone on the bed. he thinks, if he's sober, he would care more that this is oscar!!!! who is normally adamant about getting sleep!!! and not looking more sleep deprived than his naturally downturned eyes already make he seem to be!!!! but his mind feels like gooey viscous, and he counts about 3,000 peaks and troughs of the popcorn ceiling above before losing count and seeking solace in the spliff that burns his throat like a madman. he ponders if he's going crazy.

it's not long after that the undulating, monotonous buzz from his phone tickles his skin and with a sigh he goes to reply. and as he does so, his girlfriend, curiosity piqued, perks up from the foot of the bed.

"who's texting you this late?"

she looks ridiculously amusing: head hanging off the edge, loose and completely yielding like a dead body, and the only thing that reassures lando of her consciousness is the occasion movement of her arm to take another drag.

he wedges the joint between his reddened lips, lips curling awkwardly to speak, "piastri. dunno what he wants th- oh shit."

he's never felt such a sinking, crippling feeling of his high escaping him like a broken dam before. it's weirdly chilling, and for a good second, he feels brightly and vividly sober again. the texts just... stare at him and he almost wants to hurl his phone at the wall and watch it rain a litany of debris.

osc: just... forgot to give you back your stuff that i borrowed

osc: found some green leaf stuff in it lol im a bit concerned

lando's read it so many times, he's more than certain he knows just how many letters it consists of. fingers hover above the keyboard but it looks like they're weirdly swimming in air as he debates just what to write, and y/n is suddenly hissing his name, having sat up.

"— lan'! fucking hell, what happened?"

he moves on autpilot, back resting up the headboard, "he's found my weed."

y/n— y/n snorts. she sighs, moves back to her original pose, and lando's brain feels like static.

"love, i thought it would be worse."

lando splutters, "worse? babe, this is already bad! he could tell management for all i know." the mere thought of that makes lando's mind congeal. nevertheless, high out of his wits, he thinks he would somehow find a way to continue even if he was implored to stop.

she's disagreeing and laughing, and lando doesn't know what to make of it.

"nah, you're good. oscar wouldn't tell a soul," it's silent as he sees a burst of smoke ascend from the edge of the mattress, "tell him to bring it over."

lando fights with himself in his head. it's hilarious, really, watching his face morph from one emotion to another, and after 5 minutes with no whooshing affirmative of a message being sent, y/n exhales.

the bed curves in as she crawls up towards lando, before plucking the phone from his grip.

"it's really not that deep, lan'," her voice feels like cotton in his ears, "oscar isn't like that."

her fingers fly across the keyboard, how she does so in her inebriated state, lando has no clue, and just as quickly as she snatched the phone, she's sliding it back between his fingers.

"how— how do you know that?"

all presumptions, really, lando thinks. they may be good friends, him and oscar, but they've still got many, many steps to go before he's reassured that the other wouldn't go running his mouth to management because he found *fucking weed* in his bag.

the little voice at the back of his mind seeths, 'you shouldn't be smoking anyway', but he ignores it. what the hell does it know?

y/n goes to straddle him, crotch digging into his. its a soft wave of pleasure that oozes from the pressure, and lando lets a small moan mix with the puff of smoke he blows out. they would've fucked if only his limbs didn't feel like they've been detached and re-stitched; maybe they'd end the night with a lazy ride.

his girlfriend smirks, all cunning and undeniably hot, sucking in as much smoke as she can before blowing it all on his face. if anybody else had done this, he'd turn feral, but there's something alluring when y/n's exhale tickles his skin like feathers.

"how do i know? well, oscar, he kinda reminds me of you—" lando interrupts with a raised brow and a questioning stare, but y/n proceeds, "both of you are- you were- itching for a release. him not as much as you, but i still see it."

and lando can't really deny that, because he sees it too. in the way oscar's eyes seem to dart with dreaded uncertainty, and the way his shoulders are always up and tense, as if he has been tied like a puppet.

"that's what i call 'destined to get high'," y/n banters. it makes lando snort and roll his eyes (ultimately omitting to dwell on the sliver of seriousness that leaks through).

"dunno why you're rolling your eyes, you were basically begging me to give you a spliff," y/n taunts, and even though he groans at the reminiscence, he doesn't deny it. doing so would be like calling himself michael schumacher.

"yeah, whatever," he takes a lazy drag, a hand sliding up and down y/n's thigh, "at least i'm sexy when getting stoned."

y/n cackles, dissolving into a small giggle as she twirls her fingers through lando's curls; she never wants to let him go.

"damn right, baby."

another ping sounds from lando's phone, and subconsciously, his hands snakes to get it.

when he turns it on, he doesn't think he can be gobsmacked with such intensity twice in a day.

landooo: yh just bring it over

landooo: you can join us if you'd like

landooo: 😉

osc: uhm sure..

"y/n."

-.-.-.-.-

weed.

he'll be fucking damned.

the laugh that is punched out of him is one of disbelief, and, quite frankly, sheer horror.

he'd only wanted to borrow some shaving cream, after all, he's not one to favour the prickly itch of stubble. and in perfect, restless lando fashion, he was given the whole essentials bag and tasked with finding it himself.

which then leads him to now, palm burning with the weight of three spliffs that had somehow tumbled out of a flat metal tin.

he stares at them for so long that he might as well have burned holes into them (ironic), and in a flurry of movement, he's stuffing everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't know it's there. cool.

but he's just standing, in the middle of his hotel room, completely clueless and delirious. he doesn't know how many times he wipes perspiration off his palms and onto his shorts, neither does he know how he's able to text lando about his findings.

originally, he thought that sending the infamous, suggestively connotated 'you up?' would've trimmed a bit of the tension away, yet it seems like lando, without fail, waters the situation with a fuck-ton more.

"'join us'? fucking hell."

oscar feels absolutely scorched from the wisps of his hair to the tips of his toes, and a spark of something curls in his gut.

no, absolutely not.

it's- he flips his watch to check the time- one am for fuck's sake, and lando's— getting high. smoking weed. [most likely] with his girlfriend.

whatever it is that makes his gut its abode curls even more as he shoves his feet into the nearest shoes he can find, and tames his hair in the mirror by the doorway. finding the night already too hard to bare, he doesn't dwell on what he'd done, and heads off to lando's room with sickening anticipation swirling within the grooves of his skin.

the walk is only a few seconds long, and oscar curses the fact that they weren't roomed further apart (impractical in usual circumstances, but the current predicament is anything but usual). he guesses he stands there, navy blue wash bag clutched in a vice grip, for many minutes (his concept of time tonight is royally fucked— how has he stayed up this late?) before he musters up some courage to knock on the door. in the quietude of the night, the sound is magnified to the point where he winces and hopes that no one else on their floor wakes up.

he hears a quiet rustle from behind the door, sighs for the umpteenth time that day (honestly, he could have a smoke for himself to- no.) before it's swiftly open.

y/n stands there, no sign of a spliff in sight, but her heavy lidded red eyes (that must hurt, right?) and the pungent smell of weed is enough to tell.

"ah, golden boy is here," y/n's grinning, as much as she can do without it looking robotic, and oscar blushes.

"g-golden boy?"

"i said what i said," she opens the door wider, and oscar's vision catches a limp leg hanging off the side of the bed, "you coming in or what?"

he's never been in such a mind-tearing crossroad before. wants to be reasonable and say no, afterall his job is on the line here (just because lando hasn't been caught, doesn't mean he won't, too). but then he's thinking that he's played angel's advocate for too long, and, as if the universe wants to commit a double homicide, lando is walking over, countenance lackadaisical and bends down as he wraps his arms around her waist.

he asks for forgiveness, because such a temptation before him is completely unforgiving , and oscar finds his vascillations come to an end the second he makes eye contact with his teammate.

it's then he realises that the something that had been driving his intestines mad was sheer want, and, having a mind of their own, his feet shuffle into the room, decision finalised by the click of the door shutting behind him.

he just hopes he doesn't regret this is in the morning.

the couple, with eased familiarity, move back to the bed, leaving oscar standing there, lost and expecting. lando regains possession of the spliff, back flat against the bed and arm bent behind his head.

he's turning to oscar, several beats later, with a heated look that just pulls the australian right in.

"put the bag down, osc," he's demanding— oh fuck, "and come over here."

oscar feels rather mortified at the effect lando's assertiveness has on him. his heart curdles, drips away like goo, and he can't think straight.

toes off his shoes, sliding them out of the way with his foot, before dumping the bag on lando's luggage and tentatively making his way to the bed.

it's excruciatingly daunting, must he say, and he's sure it's blatant because y/n is grinning softly and beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand.

"you're good, oscar."

then he's fully on the bed, a thin sheen of gray blurring his vision and the stench of smoke so thick, he could get high off it alone.

lando's splayed in front of him, watching intensely as his fingers accomodate a joint between them, and y/n's at his side, right at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a metal tin of her own.

he wonders just how long they've been doing this for.

"for me, since i was 18/19 maybe. lando started about a year ago."

oscar's brain fucking spasms.

his head whips to y/n, then back to lando, who just smiles and takes another drag, "a year?!"

the girl beside him giggles, turning back to him with a freshly rolled spliff of his own, "yeah. practically drooling to take a hit."

his teammate groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up, they seem to go through this ordeal once or twice before.

before he can question any more, y/n points the joint at him, "you sure you want to do this?"

funny, he's asking himself this. has been ever since he read the proposition that lando (y/n) had sent, and he had replied with a seemingly confused 'sure'. heat feels like a thousands ants crawling up his body, and the silence is even worse because he's certain his ears are filled with cement.

"am i— am i gonna get addicted to... this?"

lando shakes his head just as y/n shrugs, "depends, love. if you've got good enough self control and don't rely on it too much, you'll be fine."

oscar gives a sigh of relief, but turns tense again as he looks at lando. almost telepathically, he knows what oscar is thinking.

"no osc, i'm not hooked on this. i only do it every couple of weeks or so."

his hands raise up in defense, "just asking, mate."

"and you have every right to, baby," y/n says, then scoops his hand into her grip and puts the spliff in his hand, "now take this and let lando teach you."

oscar doesn't know what to do with it. he just stares at the green stick in his hand and wills up some courage to look back up at lando. for the first time in 22 years, he's going to experience what it's like to get high, and the excitement that crawls up his spine is chilling.

"take this," lando pushes a bottle of water into his hands, and oscar looks at it in confusion.

"it's your first time, so it'll probably make you cough a ton. drinking water helps."

oscar nods, gently taking and unscrewing it open. he gulps it down like a starved animal, and almost chokes when he notices his teammates girlfriend staring bullets into his face. his heart jumps and he stops drinking.

"now put the spliff in your mouth and let me light it for you."

oscar does so, feeling the weight of the rolled joint between his lips is completely maddening.

his teammate fishes a black lighter from the bedside table, then scooches closer to oscar's crossed legs. lando's body is like a furnace of drunken heat, and it only gets worse when his hand lands right on oscar's bare thigh.

it feels perfect and oscar thinks he's surfing on the waves of euphoria already.

"this good?" lando questions his touch, and oscar doesn't waste time to nod, "alright— when i light it, you're gonna try and inhale as much as you can. don't let it stay in your throat or you're gonna cough."

oscar bobs his head affirmatively.

"if you can't, just take it in small amounts, not too much that it hits your throat."

then lando's leaning in, flame swaying from the lighter, and oscar's eyebrows scrunch as he follows it closer and closer to the spliff.

it's instaneous, the heat that fills his mouth, and in a hurried succession, oscar is inhaling and spluttering like a madman. his eyes are burning, they may already be red at this point, and his nose feels ripped off.

"take it easy, love," a hand- y/n's- rests upon his back and he finds himself needing composure, and not only from his failed attempt to smoke.

"wow uh that was— uhm..."

lando rubs his thigh, with the intention to comfort, but oscar finds himself more pent up than before. the weed is already kicking in and his mind feels chopped into pieces and mixed with cake batter, and every touch feels like a punch.

"you good to go again?" lando queries. oscar nods, his throat feeling too rough to speak up, "okay then, take your time and calm yourself down. small intakes, yeah?"

the spliff goes back between his lips, and with lando watching him like he's the best movie he's ever seen, he's sucking in the smoke cautiously and— fuck, it feels so so good. he's unravelled everywhere, not a kink left in his joint nor a knot remaining in his muscles, and when he breathes the smoke out, he lets his head fall back with a smile on his face.

"there you go," lando's voice sounds loose and airy in his mind, and oscar finds himself loving it.

"look at him, babe," y/n chimes from beside him, and his head rolls to give her an inebriated grin, "told you he was meant for it."

lando hums, agreeing, from in front of him, "gonna shotgun with him."

whatever that is, y/n is eager to see it happen, and oscar gives lando a confused look. it only evokes a cute grin from the other, who plucks the spliff from oscar's fingers.

"i'll take a hit and blow it in your mouth, if that's cool with you."

and— oscar moans involuntarily. he doesn't know where it comes from but it's practically punched out of him with how loud it is, and lando smirks widely. all oscar can do is watch as he fills his mouth with smoke and shuffles closer to him. his heart palpitates, beating like a drum piece, and his skin is damp and flushed from the intensity of it all.

lando assesses oscar's decision, confirming his consent as he nods, and slowly, lando snakes an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. oscar is compliant, body wanting and downright desperate, mouth opening on autopilot.

the second lando's lips attach to his and the smoke is pushed into his mouth, oscar fucking loses it. his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's grabbing lando's hair and pushing his mouth deeper.

he's kissing his teammate with all he has to give, and lando— he's reciprocating it, lips hungry on oscar's, biting and licking everywhere. for a second, oscar can't think about anything, mind filled with just lando, as his tongue slips in and turns the kiss filthy.

oscar hasn't made out with anyone with such ferocity. he's encompassed in scorching heat, and the euphoria just gets better as lando trails his lips down his neck. the bites and licks are inclement, and oscar's sure there'd be marks tomorrow, angry and purple, but right now, he doesn't care. not when lando's hands creep up his shirt, and run up his torso, resting upon his nipples and twirling them around his fingers.

"oh fuck, lando," his moan is so high pitched it sounds foreign and it's almost hard for him to believe that it comes from him. but he's sure it does, because another is forced out as soft hand turns his head to the side and there's another set of lips on his in an instant.

he thinks he could hooked on y/n's kisses, warm, wet and so fucking sensual, he feels worshipped. not an inch of skin is missed by her tongue, and with every drag of her lips against his, he's concluding that this would be the perfect way to die.

oscar's so hard in his jeans from lando's stimulation, y/n's kisses, and the heightened sensation of everything from the weed, that he almost cums in his shorts. he can only imagine how plump it could be, and how a mouth on it would have him sobbing for days.

but he doesn't have to, because lando creeps a hand to his crotch and squeezes. the whine that leaves oscars mouth and into his teammate's girlfriend's is criminal.

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

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creatingblackcharacters · 2 months

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eepwriting · 4 months

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Hi, since your alphabet for IV included him not being as experienced as he seems, would you be interested in something where both him and reader talk a big game, only to get to their first time together and awkwardly have to reveal neither of them know as much as they seem? I feel like it would be kinda funny and sweet

You Can Touch Me ✶ IV x GN! Reader

Warnings: kissing, drinking

Omg omg omg I love this. Thank you so much for this!🤍 It’s more of a blurb because I didn’t want to ruin the sweetness with full on smut lol

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

You had an…odd relationship with iv. The two of you relentlessly flirted with each other, often shared loving and teasing touches, found yourselves in a couple of tipsy kisses. Definitely more than just friends but neither of you had ever tried to take things any further.

You couldn’t deny the massive crush you had on him, but you were admittedly intimidated by him. You had only been in a single relationship, and you didn’t dare let iv know that. Sure, he had asked about previous relationships or flings you had but you always kept it very vague. Never revealing any numbers, letting him guess for fun. You let him believe you had more experience than you really did. He constantly makes remarks about how you must have a whole roster of people throwing themselves at you.

The first time he said that, you ran with it. It helped you feel more on his level, because you just knew that man got around. He himself knew he was attractive and he let everyone around him know that.

Your inexperience was really the whole reason you never tried to take things further with iv. You were scared, didn’t even know where to start.

You watch him from across the room. Despite the high energy of the small house party you were currently at, you could really only focus on him. You had always found his overwhelming suave and cool demeanor almost intoxicating. You always notice the way energy shifts when he walks into a room, all eyes on him.

You catch iv’s eyes when he looks over at you, sending a wink your way. You give him a flirty smile, nodding your head to the side in a way to call him over. His eyes rake over you quickly before he turns back to the small group of people he was talking to. A short while later he saunters over to you.

“You clean up nice.” He says, his eyes scanning over you again.

“I was gonna say the same thing about you.” You giggle, taking a sip of your drink.

He reaches out to pull you into a hug, humming as he wraps his arms around you. He sways you side to side before pulling away to look at you. The way he’s watching you makes you nervous. There’s a look in his eye you don’t think you’ve ever seen.

You reach out and grab his hand. “You okay? You seem distracted.”

He nods at you, leaning down to you slightly. His eyes are glossy as he looks at you. “Can I kiss you?”

You’re taken aback by the forwardness of his question but giggle and nod your head. Reaching up, you tug his mask over his mouth before pressing your lips to his.

The two of you had shared kisses here and there, usually just small pecks, always pulling away laughing together. This time it felt different though, like there was a neediness behind his movements. His hands slide up your arms to cup your face in his hands. You can taste the alcohol on his tongue when he pushes it past your lips. You hear the faintest groan from him and your pulse quickens.

This is way more than either of you had done and you were nervous on how to react. You’d be lying if you said his actions were having no effect on you. The way his hands held your face so tenderly, they way his lips and tongue moved against your own, it made you dizzy.

“Can I take you somewhere else?” He pulls away breathlessly.

You panic at his words but your head nods quickly. He’s fast to grab your hand and drag you to the nearest room, ushering you inside and locking the door behind himself. His mouth is on yours again but his hands stay by his sides. You hesitantly reach up to hold his shoulders.

You itch to feel his hands on you. Reaching down, you grab his hand, placing it on your own hip. “You can touch me, you know.” You let out a small laugh as you pull away from him, your hands hooking around the back of his neck.

His hand squeezes your side slightly before he speaks. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous right now.” His previous calm, cool and collected demeanor had seemed to slip away now that the two of you were alone. His eyes dart around the room.

You let out the breath you’re holding, a small bit of relief fills you. “Nervous? Why are you nervous?” Your mind races with answers he could give you.

He sheepishly shrugs, his eyes never looking into yours for long. “Uh, I’ve only ever been with one person and it’s been a while. You make me nervous. I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.” He speaks quickly and breathes out a shy laugh.

You’re caught off guard by his answer. A million questions race through your mind. One person? How is that even possible? “How? You’re…you.” You laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing either. I’m freaking out over here.”

Confusion flashes across iv’s face as he takes a small step away from you. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve only been with one person. I play up my dating life so I can relate to you. I thought you got around.” You shrug and laugh again, your hands sliding down to hold his hands.

He’s quiet for a moment before he laughs as well, stepping closer to you. “Definitely don’t get around.” He smiles as he shakes his head. “I wanted to impress you, I think.”

Blushes rises to your cheeks as you pull him to you, lips meeting his in a sweet, shy kiss. His arms are slow to wrap themselves around your waist. Your heart beats even faster when he pulls you flush against him. Your hands reach up to rest on his shoulders again.

He pulls away, letting out a deep breath and clears his throat. “Sorry, still freaking out a little.” You can’t see his cheeks but you imagine they’re stained a pretty red.

“It’s okay. Me too.” You cup his face in your hands. “We’ll figure this out together.” You laugh.

He laughs and nods, pulling you to him again, still smiling as he presses his lips to yours.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

ANON!! I was struggling with this lol idk why tho. I hope it’s not horrible 🫣

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token fic #sleep token x reader #sleep token iv #iv sleep token #iv x reader #ngl I flopped with this one

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misshoneyimhome · 3 months

Note

Would you write for Pyotr Kochetkov? With the prompt “Just tell me I’m the one.” Where Kochetkov thinks reader wants Svechnikov because of how close him and reader are but obby the reader wants Kochetkov 🤭

Oh, a new goalie has been added to the roster! 🤗

So, this is obv my first time writing for this young cutie pie, but I hope I've managed to capture his essence alright 🤍 I wasn't sure how good his English had become at this point, but after watching a few videos, I found it so endearing listening to him speak 🌺

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it 🤍

Tropes and warnings; friends to lovers; Pyotr Kochetkov x reader; just pure fluff; no warnings

Word count; 2.3K+

“Just tell me I’m the one" I Pyotr Kochetkov 🖋️🌺

Pyotr Kochetkov had never been particularly confident when it came to matters of the heart.

As a goaltender, he was steady and unyielding, a reliable last line of defence for the Carolina Hurricanes. On the ice, he knew his role and executed it with precision, but when it came to understanding the intricacies of romantic interest, he was often feeling rather uncertain and maybe even act a little playful about it. His teammates would frequently joke about his stoic nature, teasing that he was more comfortable facing a breakaway than a heartfelt conversation, and he always just laughed along. It didn’t bother him at all, yet he couldn’t help but feel a stir within him.

What they didn’t know details of was that lately, his mind had been occupied with thoughts far away from the ice rink, as he couldn't help but notice how close you and Andrei Svechnikov had become over the past few weeks and months—always sharing inside jokes, laughing together during team dinners, and exchanging glances that seemed to speak volumes. Each moment chipped away at his composure, leaving him restless and distracted.

And one evening after practice, Pyotr found himself sitting alone in the quiet of the locker room, still in his gear, turning over these thoughts in his mind. As he’d skated off the ice, his mind was clouded with conflicting emotions. The day's practice had been just fine as he usually found solace in the repetitive motions and camaraderie of the team.

However, he had then spotted you in the stands, chatting animatedly with Andrei. He knew the two of you had been friends for some time, and that your bond was unmistakable, yet his heart sank every time he saw you laughing together, a pit of jealousy and insecurity forming in his stomach. And though he knew it was irrational, he just couldn't help the way he felt.

The room, usually buzzing with the energy of his teammates, was now a sanctuary of solitude, and the only sounds were the distant echoes of equipment being packed away and the faint hum of the air conditioning. Pyotr stared at the ground, his thoughts a tangled mess of insecurity and longing, as he couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy that gnawed at him whenever he saw you and Andrei together. Were you interested in Svechnikov? Did you see him as more than a friend?

___

The truth was that you too harboured deep feelings for the young goaltender. From the moment you met Pyotr Kochetkov, you had felt something different - a sensation you couldn't quite pinpoint at first, yet it became clear as you spent more time around Andrei and Pyotr, particularly during the English lessons you helped them with: the fluttering in your stomach whenever Pyotr was near were butterflies of love.

Pyotr had no idea about the emotions you held for him. You had done everything possible to keep them hidden, but that had been easier said than done. Andrei had quickly noticed the romantic tension lingering between the two of you, although he never explicitly mentioned it. He would only tease you lightly about your crush when you were alone, not wanting to meddle but secretly hoping his two friends would eventually confess their feelings for each other. Yet, neither of you ever did.

There was one day though, when Andrei thought you were close to revealing your feelings. It happened during one of your casual coffee meetings, where you often helped Pyotr and Andrei with their English. Because you had Russian roots through your grandmother, you had suggested these kinds of sessions, something more informal and relaxed than typical English lessons.

And on this particular day, the topic of love and expressing emotions came up. The sun was setting outside the café window, casting a warm, golden glow over the table where the three of you sat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of pastries, creating an inviting atmosphere. Pyotr sat next to you; his striking brown eyes focused intently on the phrases written on the paper before him. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration, making him look even more endearing.

"I am in love with you," Pyotr read out loud, practising his pronunciation. His voice was soft, almost reverent, as he spoke the words. "You are the one for me."

"Exactly, just like that," you replied with a sweet smile, trying to hide the quickening of your heartbeat. "That's exactly how you'd say it.”

"And this is—'Would you like to go out with me?'" he asked, smiling softly as he read the next line from the paper. His smile was shy, almost hesitant, yet it lit up his face in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

You felt another flutter in your tummy as he smiled, and you nodded. "Yeah, that's really good pronunciation. You're ready to actually go out and say it...to someone." Your voice was soft, tinged with hope that he would catch on to your subtle hints. The café’s ambient chatter seemed to fade into the background as you willed him to understand what you truly meant. However, when he simply moved on to the next line, you felt convinced he would never see you that way. The moment passed, leaving you with a bittersweet ache.

Meanwhile, sitting opposite you, Andrei was on the verge of pulling his hair out. How could the two of you not see it? It was so obvious to everyone else. You were sitting so close together, practising phrases about love and dating, yet neither of you seized the opportunity to act on it.

So, by the end of the day, Andrei was ready to confront the situation directly. As Pyotr had left for his goaltender yoga training, he looked at you with a curious expression.

"What?" you asked, noticing his intense gaze. "What is it, Andrei?"

"How can you not see it?" he asked, almost out of breath from frustration. "You and Pyotr... It's so clear—you like each other. You should go out on dates."

You shook your head. "He doesn't see me that way, Andrei... clearly, otherwise, he would... you know."

Andrei sighed deeply. "Y/N, Pyotr really, really likes you. But he's just a guy. He doesn't know how to express these things, even when it's right in front of him." He looked at you with a soft expression and added, "Not even in Russian."

You sighed softly, realising that you might have put too much hope and faith into small clues and hints that no one else understood as a request for something beyond friendship. "You really think he likes me?" you asked timidly.

"Y/N, Pyotr is head over heels in love with you," Andrei assured you with a gentle smile.

And you couldn't help but chuckle lightly. Andrei was truly an amazing friend, and you knew he would make someone very happy one day.

"And now I'm sure you’ve actually learned something from today's lesson – using a phrase like that."

Andrei’s revelation had sparked a flicker of courage within you. And armed with newfound confidence, you resolved to confront Pyotr about your feelings. You had rehearsed the words in your mind, imagining how his reaction might unfold, but when you arrived at practice the following day, your hopes were dashed.

As you walked down the corridor, you saw Pyotr in deep conversation with a girl from the team’s support staff. Their body language spoke volumes—laughter, shared glances, a familiarity that cut through you like a knife. And it was clear he was asking her out, using the same phrases you had practised with him just days ago. The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, frozen, trying to process the sight before you. The warmth that had blossomed in your chest turned cold, replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment and hurt.

But in truth, Pyotr had been dealing with a broken heart for some time, misinterpreting your growing closeness with Andrei as something more. And convinced that pursuing you would only bring him more pain, he decided to focus his attention elsewhere, hoping to distract himself from the agony of unreturned love.

Meanwhile, Andrei was caught between frustration and sympathy. He had watched the two of you skirt around your true feelings for far too long. Each missed chance to express yourselves left him exasperated, as he deeply cared for both of you and longed for you to recognise what was so evident to everyone else.

The hallway buzzed with activity around you, unaware of the emotional turmoil unfolding within. Pyotr and the girl exchanged smiles, arranging plans for the weekend, while you stood rooted to the spot, grappling with the shattered remnants of your hopes and the harsh reality before you.

And sensing your distress, Andrei approached quietly. His expression mirrored your anguish, a silent acknowledgment of shared disappointment. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with regret. "He asked her out?"

You nodded your head numbly, unable to find the words. The weight of unspoken truths hung heavy in the air between you. And in that moment, the best comfort Andrei could offer was a tight, friendly hug. A hug that didn’t escape the corner of Pyotr’s eye.

___

The next day, however, the weight of unspoken emotions became too much for you to bear. As you watched the team wrap up after the day’s practice, you suddenly felt determined to confront Pyotr. So, finally breaking free from the uncertainty that had plagued you both, you steeled yourself for the conversation you had been avoiding.

Meanwhile, after a rigorous training session, Pyotr trudged back to the locker room with a heavy heart. He had been trying to distance himself from the sight of you and Andrei together, hoping to quell the ache of jealousy that gnawed at him. And as he began to strip off his gear, the echoes of laughter and shared moments between you and Andrei haunted him still, causing the sound of approaching footsteps to startle him. And as he turned to see you standing in the doorway, your expression offered a mix of concern and determination.

"Pyotr, can we talk?" you asked softly, your voice breaking the heavy silence that hung between you.

He merely nodded, trying to steady his emotions. "Sure, what's up?"

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts before speaking again, and your eyes searched his, hoping to find the courage to voice what had been weighing on your heart. "I've noticed you've been distant lately. Is everything okay?"

Pyotr sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I... I have just had a lot on mind."

"Like what?" you gently pressed, taking a tentative step closer to him.

Then taking a deep breath, Pyotr knew it was now or never. "I see how close you are with Andrei. The way you laugh together, the way you look at each other... It is hard not to feel like I'm just an outsider."

Surprise flickered across your face, and you shook your head earnestly. "Pyotr, no. It’s not like that with Andrei. We’re just friends, I promise."

Pyotr looked away, unable to handle the intensity of your gaze. "Then what is it? Why do I feel like you’re always with him and not me?"

Your heart ached at his words, and you reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Because I’ve been scared, Pyotr. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way about me."

His eyes flickered back to yours, filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "What do you mean?"

Summoning all your courage, you took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I care about Andrei, but not the way I care about you. I want you, Pyotr. I’ve wanted you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to tell you."

Pyotr's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing as he absorbed your confession. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

You nodded firmly, stepping closer to him. "Yes, but then I saw you with that other girl and…" You trailed off with a defeated sigh, the pain of seeing him with someone else clear in your eyes. "And I couldn’t believe it when Andrei told me that you might actually like me back."

A wave of guilt washed over Pyotr as he realised how his actions had inadvertently hurt you. "I do like you. She... doesn't mean anything to me," he blurted out earnestly, desperate to reassure you.

"Really?" you asked, searching his eyes for sincerity.

Pyotr nodded fervently, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the lingering doubts.

"Just... please, tell me I'm the one."

"You're the one," he affirmed softly, his voice filled with unwavering certainty. "I have wanted you too, but I was afraid to say anything."

A sense of relief washed over you, tears of joy threatening to spill over as Pyotr's admission lifted a weight off your shoulders that you had carried for far too long. And a radiant smile spread across your face, your heart soaring with happiness. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Then without hesitation, Pyotr pulled you into his arms. Closing the gap between you he leaned down to capture you lips with his, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. The kiss was tender, yet filled the desire that had been lingering for a while.

The tension that had once divided you melted away in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by a newfound closeness and understanding. And in that moment, surrounded by the familiar scents of sweat and equipment in the locker room, you both knew this was the beginning of something beautiful.

For Pyotr, the doubts and insecurities that had clouded his heart were swept aside by the overwhelming joy of knowing that you chose him. And for you, the journey of unspoken feelings finally found its voice, setting the stage for a love that had waited patiently in the wings.

As you rested against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, Pyotr knew that despite the challenges that lay ahead, you were the one he wanted by his side. And that was all he needed to feel complete.

#my asks #Pyotr Kochetkov x reader #pyotr kochetkov imagine #carolina hurricanes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey imagine

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yelenasdog · 2 years

Text

tell me you’re that somebody ✧ (trevor zegras x fem reader)

genre: smut with plot

summary: trevor hadn’t expected anything to come from his routine tinder round-up of chicks for the first party of the summer at the lake house. but in all fairness, she wasn’t expecting anything when she’d downloaded the app in the first place. they’re both in over their heads.

words: 4k

warnings: alcohol mention, cheesy situation lol, smut, fingering, handjob, public sex (or foreplay? technically? whatever she gets fingered in a hot tub), cursing, reader and trev meet through tinder, use of pet name (baby)

a/n: @eminems-skittles and i texted abt this like a week ago and i haven’t been able to stop thinking abt this so. here! cassie ur my biggest cheerleader i love u 🤍 also the song mentioned later in the fic is “love me” by lil wayne btw and it lightly inspired the fic. so. do w that what u will. happy reading!

The music was loud at the party, and that combined with the amount of drunk 20 somethings and flashing LED lights coming from inside the house would’ve been enough to make her lose her mind.

Key word: would’ve.

But she didn’t. Not yet, anyway. Because in all the noise and smoke and fucking craziness, she had him. And, despite being in a steamy hot tub, it wasn’t the most romantic situation ever, she’d be the first to admit.

The music blasting sounded like it was some kind of Lil Wayne song from 2013 (actually, was that Drake? No, it’s both of them) and the pair was surrounded by a graveyard of half empty beer bottles and cans from where they resided in the hot tub. (All from the girls who took about four minuscule sips from them to seem cool in front of the famed hockey players. That was only before abandoning them for a Whiteclaw the second they got warm.)

But she didn’t pay much care to the scenery, focusing just on the man in front of her. Or, beneath her, if we’re being technical.

Their relationship was a, shall we say, recent development. As in, when Trevor had rented a lake house with his buddies during the off season, and word of the first party had been spread, he’d taken to his Tinder. He’d been tasked with finding the girls, and even though he’d kind of felt like a pimp, he’d scrolled through anyway, finding chicks near his location, matching and inviting them quickly.

He came across her profile, seeing the bio mentioning she wasn’t expecting much from the app, but that she downloaded it for kicks and giggles. She was probably the hottest he’d seen yet (and would see), and he didn’t hesitate to swipe right. He mentally called dibs on the girl, who’s name was apparently Y/n, and not expecting a match right away, he pocketed his phone. Satisfied with the roster he’d created for the party, he stood up, heading outside where some of the guys were already playing a casual game of pong.

He chuckled to himself at the sight before him, Jamie and Alex half asleep in two of the chairs on the pool deck, Quinn on the same page as he scrolled through his phone. Jack and Cole were the two playing pong, while various other friends, some Trevor knew, some he didn’t, lingered about.

Trevor sat down, yawning. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of tiredness, but failing. Conversation drones on, and he mostly ignores it, zoning out. He was snapped out of his trance by the dinging of his phone, which he quickly retrieved, desperate for anything more interesting than what he was currently subject to.

He wasn’t disappointed at what he saw, the notification that he’d matched with someone bright against his lock screen. He clicked, hoping it was Y/n from earlier. It was, and at this revelation, he immediately opened up a chat, not caring that he probably looked desperate.

“Hi :)” he typed out, pressing send. Basic, he knows, but he figured he’d play it safe. He went back and looked at her profile again, swiping through all of the photos. He reread her bio, seeing that she had only recently moved to the area, loved hockey and a few other sports, and was currently still in school, studying for a doctorate. Fancy.

The photos didn’t quite match what the bio said, in Trevor’s mind. There was one of her in tight leggings and a sports bra posing with what he assumed was her dog, another in the garage of some race team, donned in their colors. Which doesn’t seem too far off, but then he kept scrolling.

A personal favorite (yes, it’s only been 10 minutes, yes, he had a personal favorite) was one of her in a rickety bar. It was taken with flash, and her smile was nearly brighter than said flash. It was dim in the photo aside from purple and blue stage lights, a band in the back in front of a crowd of people. Her hand was in the air, wrapped around a bottle of some sort, her other one slung around the shoulders of a guy wearing a cowboy hat. It was her brother in law, Trevor had learned from the bio.

He scrolled through the various pics multiple times after that, landing on one of her in a skimpy blue bikini, smiling on what appeared to be the bow of a yacht.

It caught the attention of Quinn, who’d been on his way inside. He stopped mid sentence, placing a hand on the back of Trevor’s chair.

“Who the fuck is that?” He questioned, leaning in towards Z’s phone. Trevor looked up at him, rolling his eyes and saying “dude, could you get any closer?” Quinn stepped away, his hand still gripping the edge of the chair.

“My bad. Like I said, who’s that?”

“Who’s who?” Jack asked from where he was still playing pong, curious as to what had piqued his older brother’s interest. Jamie, who’d taken Cole’s spot, turned his head as well, hand dropping from where it was mid air.

“Just an absolute rocket Trevor is trying to keep to himself.” Came the voice of Cole, who’d gone inside to get a water and was now back out, peering over Trevor’s shoulder. Z rolled his eyes again, turning off his phone and setting it on the table, face down.

“Well if she’s a rocket,” Jack started, “then is she coming tonight?”

Trevor shrugged. “We’ll see.” He replied, standing up and stretching. “I’m going to get a coffee. Text me if you want anything, ya fuckin’ idiots.” He added, turning and walking inside.

Up until the moment he was walking through the doors of the Starbucks, his phone was still flooding with orders from various numbers. It was a lot of black coffees and everything bagels, and he wasn’t looking forward to carrying them all to the car.

His woeful thoughts of cream cheese and cold brews were interrupted as he lifted his head, planted in place by what he saw.

“Yeah, I guess I should be thanking you for making me download it, but that’s if it’s actually him. What if it’s some creep, huh? I go to his place thinking it’s fuckin Trevor Zegras and it’s some 60 year old named Barnaby Wilson.” She pauses, listening to whoever was on the other side of the phone. “No, I don’t know what kind of name Barnaby Wilson is, nor do I care about a verification system. I care about becoming a murder victim on a shitty true crime podcast.” Another pause.

Then, just as she’s about to speak, she’s cut off by the barista yelling “Y/n!” far too loud for her liking. “Whatever, I’ll call you back. Yes, I’ll keep you updated! I promise. Okay. Love you, bye.” She rolled her eyes to herself, chuckling as she made the short walk to the counter. She grabbed her order with a “thank you” to the barista, before making her way over to the exit.

The exit where Trevor, like an idiot, was still stupidly standing.

“Hey, dude, you gonna order or what?” Some unenthusiastic teen who manned the register asked, obviously not fazed in the slightest by the NHL superstar in front of him.

“Uh, yeah. Just, looking at the menu.” He turned to where a mini line had formed behind him, apologizing to the older woman who had been standing behind him, waiting. He stepped aside, forcing his legs to carry him over to where she had been about to leave.

“Hey, Y/n!”

She turned, eyes wide as saucers upon hearing her name by someone who wasn’t a barista. When she saw that it was the real Trevor Zegras, not Barnaby Wilson, she just about fainted.

“Trevor? Zegras?” She wanted to facepalm at her reaction, and probably would have if it wasn’t from the bag in one hand and drink in the other.

A cocky smile came across Trevor’s face, starting to feel a little bit like himself again at the recognition, standing a little taller.

“In the flesh.” Okay. Maybe a little bit too himself.

“You get my message?” He asked, and she nodded, a small smile raising the corners of her mouth.

“I did. Haven’t responded yet, though. Wasn’t sure if you were the real deal. Not sure if you were some creep pretending to be Trevor Zegras.”

“Barnaby Wilson.” He added, and she grew red at the realization he heard that conversation. A small laugh left her, as her hand with the bag came up to scratch the back of her neck.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Right.” He added quietly, a smile still cemented onto his face.

“Well”, he started after a moment of quiet. ”I was going to ask you over messages, but since you’re here, I’m having a party later with a couple of buddies. I’d love it if you could make it.”

Her jaw dropped, and she had to play it off as if it was a yawn. Which probably looked stupid the more she thought about it, but who could blame her? In the most typical Wattpad, coffee shop AU meet-cute way possible, she was invited to a party of NHLers, by an NHLer.

She didn’t even give a second thought to her paper that was due in three days, all she needed to do were revisions anyway. She immediately accepted, and after a quick hug initiated by Trevor and plans to exchange numbers and text her the details, they parted.

She got to the car and screamed, before dialing back her best friend who she’d been on the phone with, thanking her endlessly for forcing her to download Tinder.

Trevor, who now was at the back of the line for drinks, texted the group chat to let them know she was definitely coming. Then, he got the notification he had a message on Tinder, seeing it was her responding to his “Hi :)” with a “Hi, not Barnaby.”

That led to where they were now.

When she’d showed up to the party, instructed by Trevor to come wearing a swimsuit, it was like everything stopped.

Much to the dismay of their dates, all of the boys craned their necks to look at the girl who Trevor hadn’t shut up about since that morning, not disappointed in the slightest.

Her denim cutoffs showed off her legs to where they were cut off by a pair of white converse, her white bikini top a slightly lighter shade, not subject to the same daily abuse as the shoes. Trevor had greeted her with a hug, his hand never leaving her back once they parted. He’d made the rounds, introducing her to all his wide eyed friends, before the two of them settled into conversation with Cole about the upcoming Formula 1 season.

Trevor had never given a shit about F1 before. Racing was never really for him. But hearing her ask Cole with such wonder in her voice about what it was like to meet Fernando Alonso, and speak with such conviction about her opinion on the strategy at Ferrari? What they were strategizing, Trevor had no idea, but, fuck, if he didn’t love hearing her talk about it.

The night went on, things got rowdier, and then as they do, they got quieter. She was there for the entirety of it, and at some point, they’d slipped into the hot tub.

It was bubbly and warm, and she’d let out an audible sigh when the water first hit her aching back. The tension from days of sitting hunched up by her laptop as she wrote melted away in the water, and it was divine.

Her and Trevor were joined by Jack and his date for the night. Some brunette named Haleigh. “Like, with a y, but… not… with a y. You know?” She’d added when she introduced herself.

After complaining it was too hot, Haleigh without a Y left the hot tub, going inside to get another Mike’s hard lemonade. Jack sat for a second, his head falling into his hand. He let out a deep, deep sigh of exhaustion, before running the same hand over his face and ruffling it through his hair.

“Jack, come be my pong partner!” She exclaimed, briefly hanging her head out the sliding glass doors, before going back inside.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Jack said, pushing himself up and out of the water. They gave him a sympathetic look, but not that sympathetic, knowing he’d probably be fucking her in give or take about 20 minutes.

It left the two of them mostly alone, in their little bubble at least, only surrounded by a few stragglers. They were either out on the dock, by the bonfire in the backyard, or standing up against the wall, caging in whatever unfortunate girl is the victim of a failed attempt at a fuck, and hasn’t figured out her escape route yet.

But she wasn’t paying any attention to them, and neither was Trevor. His attention was fully on her, where her hand nervously had come up to mess with the charm around her neck. He knew the action itself was fairly innocent, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t let his eyes wander further down.

The way the water droplets were resting upon her slightly burnt skin was downright sinful, some of them still sliding down the expanse of her neck. She looked almost like she did in the picture he liked so much from earlier, all the lights illuminating her in all the best ways. And maybe it was just the alcohol, but Trevor thought she looked angelic.

“Y’know,” he began, his fingertips coming up to play with a strand of her hair, “you’re really fuckin’ pretty.”

She blushed, not that he could tell with all the lights, and looked away, trying to hide the expression that began to tug at her features.

“Thanks. You too.” She tossed back, a breathy laugh leaving both of them. His hand went from the strand of hair to her chin, tilting it up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“I mean it.”

“Me too.”

It was an immediate response, because she did. She did mean it. He didn’t just look pretty, he looked fucking unreal. But, she didn’t want to say that. Not yet at least. So she settled for pretty.

They held each other’s gazes, and she’s not sure who moved first, but before she knew it, the water around them was rippling. She was suddenly on his lap, his hands on either hip. Her arms were around his neck, and his lips were on hers.

And despite the fact it was fucking amazing, and the fact that his lips were so soft and so perfect, her mind was still running a million miles a minute.

She pulled away, worried that someone would see the two of them. Why was she worried about that? She didn’t know. But she was programmed to worry, it seemed, about anything and everything.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Trevor asked, looking up at her with those sweet green eyes.

“Nothing, Trev, it was amazing.”

“Then why’d you stop?” He asked, leaning forward and connecting his lips to her neck, somehow immediately finding her sweet spot. He was relentless, and as she struggled to find words, he hummed against her in question. Her breath hitched at the sensation, and she felt him smile against her, his teeth barely nipping at the sensitive skin. She gasped again, her breath shaky.

“But what if someone sees, Trev?” She managed to get out, hanging her head where Trevor’s shoulder met his neck. He paused his attack on her momentarily, his fingertips smoothing over her thighs, moving up to her waist.

“Look at me, Y/n.” He said, his voice firm but without a hint of animosity or anger. So she lifted her head from her place of hiding, looking him in the eyes.

“Baby, they’re all drunk. They don’t give a fuck. Okay?” He said with a reassuring smile, his question more rhetorical than anything. His hands on her waist started to move her back and forth slightly, feeling where his length was growing through his trunks and her tied bottoms.

Her head fell again, a whine leaving her lips. She continued to move, and Trevor brought his lips up to press a kiss to her temple.

“Just focus on me.” He mumbled, followed by a small “Yeah?” To which she nodded. He smiled again, quickly finding her lips and capturing them with his.

When he asked so nicely, how was she supposed to say no?

It was like the only thing that existed anymore, or had ever existed was Trevor.

He infiltrated every one of her senses, despite the fact they normally would’ve been taken up by the scenery around her. She couldn’t smell the shitty alcohol or the smoke from the bonfire, only the barely lingering scent of the cologne he’d applied before he’d started to welcome guests.

She couldn’t see all of the people around her, just the sight of Trevor, wet curls wildly astray, eyes screwed shut as he helped guide her over his cock.

She couldn’t hear that fucking Lil Wayne (and Drake, and Future, and whoever the fuck else) song, or the boisterous laughter of the hockey players, mixed with that of their dates. (Who’re all laughing just a little too hard.)

She just heard the tiny moans and soft praises that fell from Z’s lips. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Was the latest, followed by a groan that she would’ve been worried someone would hear, if not for how enamored she was.

She couldn’t feel the sickly heat in the humid air, or how the water sloshed up against her burnt back, just the slightest bit too hot. She couldn’t feel where the knot keeping her swimsuit tied together was pressing into her skin, or where the grainy feeling of the bench in the hot tub rubbed against her knees. All she could feel was him, his cock pressing against her, his fingertips digging into her, his lips everywhere at once.

And she most definitely couldn’t taste the remnants of the chocolate croissant she’d had for breakfast, or the taste of the tequila shots she’d done with Jamie and Alex. As his tongue lazily danced with her own, it wasn’t any of that that she recognized.

It was the Pink Whitney shot he’d done when the rest were doing tequila, citing that tequila and his stomach didn’t mix. And it was a strange accompaniment, but it was also the leftover tang of the spearmint gum he’d been chewing earlier in the day, stealing a piece from Quinn, who hadn’t offered any to him in the first place. But the strange combination worked, because it was him.

All of it was so much, so Trevor, that it was driving her crazy, but in the best way possible. So when he moved one of his hands from her waist, down to her clothed sex, she almost lost it.

“Trev-“

“You’re good, baby. I’ve got you.”

He ran his thumb over her slit, before sliding his hand down the front of her bottoms, feeling her bare pussy. He wasted no time, easing his two middle fingers into her, stretching her out. The stretch was delicious, and she fully moaned, trying to find any sense that she could to prop herself up entirely on her knees. She palmed him over his pink swim trunks, and he chased the feeling, needily lifting his hips to meet her hand.

She smiled, before mirroring his actions from only a minute ago, her hand easily finding his hardened dick. She ran her thumb over the tip, before she started to jack him off, the water adding resistance as she moved her hand along his length.

But it was all the same to Trevor as he groaned, his hand still pumping in and out of her. His palm perfectly grazed her clit every time he did, and the two of them built up a rhythm as they went. The water around them was moving in waves now, and true to his word from earlier, everyone around them was too drunk to care that they were basically fucking in the hot tub.

As she started to squirm above him, he added a third finger, his glossed over eyes watching in amazement as her mouth went ajar. She clenched down on him, and he could tell she was nearly there. Her hand moved faster in sync with chasing her own peak, Trevor’s doing the same.

“Trev, I’m- fuck! Trevor, I’m close.” She softly cried, her head once again falling back to his shoulder as she rode his hand. He reached his opposite hand forward, groping at her tit, pulling it out of the small triangle of fabric covering it. She moaned at the sensation, and he bit down hard on his lip.

“I know, baby. I’m almost there, too. Shit, you're gonna be good and make me cum, aren’t you? Fuck, yeah. Yeah, you are, baby. Riding my fingers like that. You’re so perfect. So perfect, fuck.

And somehow, they picked up their paces even more, Trevor’s hand slamming into her, while she moved her hand up and down his shaft at a matching speed.

With a cry of his name, and a broken “fuck” from Z, the two came together. Everything went white, and if before everything surrounding her was Trevor, it was like now the two had become one.

She went lax in his arms as they continued to lazily stroke each other, soft kisses pressed to the corner of her mouth by Zeegs.

“You did so good, baby. So fuckin’ sexy riding my hand like that. No idea what you do to me.”

She smiled, tilting her head. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest.

“I’ve got a semblance of an idea, I think.” She quipped, and he rolled his eyes. She leaned forward again, pausing briefly to admire his features, before leaning forward and connecting their lips in a sweet kiss.

When they pulled away, she nuzzled against him, all of a sudden aware of the space they were in.

“Y’know, you were right, though.”

“About what?” He asked, leaning down. She smiled as she felt his lips on her head.

“Doesn’t seem like anybody noticed.” She giggled, and he let out a “ha!” shaking his head. She was right, he supposed.

Everyone who was inside had either fallen asleep on the couch, or retired to their rooms, Haleigh without a Y and Jack included. The backyard bunch were still all chatting away, and the guys over by the wall seemed to have accepted their losses, as they now were alone, seemingly fighting off sleep as well.

“Guess not.” He replied, looking down at her. She smiled up at him, tilting her head to give him a kiss. He tried to deepen it, but much like before, she pulled away.

“As lovely as your kisses are, and as worth it that it was, I think we’ve contaminated this hot tub.” She joked, beginning to stand. Trevor frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, and his hand not leaving hers.

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say “I wasn’t done”, and so he beckoned for her to continue.

“But, as I was saying, you’re staying here, right?” He nodded. She smiled, shrugging.

“Then you still have a shower and a bed to contaminate too.”

Trevor grinned, standing up and getting out of the hot tub, pulling her out of the water completely. She shrieked and tugged her knees up, her hand coming to grasp at Z’s forearm. He spun her around twice before setting her down, pulling her to his chest. Trevor Zegras had found his match.

“I like the way you think, lady.”

FIN.

hopefully that was good LOL, btw idk if u’ve ever seen shoresey, but this is reminding me too much of that whole “sanguinet got a squeezer from your sweetie of the side of a party island in wasaga beach, buddy.” LMFAOO iykyk.

anyway hope u enjoyed, rb if u did! love u, go take an electronics break and hydrate and eat some protein. mwah, bye <3

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