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daemour · 1 month

Text

Pairing: roommate! San x f! yn

Word Count: 10,664

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, f2l au, college au, M for mature audiences

Summary: As the resident fuckboy San's best friend, you're legally obligated to be his hype man. It's only fitting as you're one of the few who can resist his boyish charms. But when he's set his sights on someone you cannot stand, perhaps you need to dig a bit deeper into your feelings after all.

Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), voyeurism, sexual fantasies, oral (f), missionary, protected sex, very slight breast play, overstimulation, cowgirl, some cumplay, dirty dirty talk, fingering, slight body worship ig?, praise, I literally have no idea I wrote it at a time when I should've been in bed so lmk if I missed anything

this is for the jackson wang party fic collab finished with @mingsolo (hella good) @flurrys-creativity (Pygalgia, Effervescent, and Abience) and @sanjoongie (trouble) <3 I still have one more to go but we'll ignore that LMAOOOOO I added too much plot :') flurry was a dear and helped me sort out my thoughts and I managed to write 8k of it in one day lol.

hope u all enjoy and sorry I'm a professional yapper there's no shutting me up

“Going out again?” you ask your best friend and flatmate, San, as he walks past where you’re seated at the kitchen counter, suffering through your essays.

“Yep,” San answers easily, popping the ‘p’ and leaning over to take a peek at your laptop screen. “You misspelt ‘dextrorotatory’, you wrote it as ‘dexrotatory’.”

As your eyes find the typo, you groan and plant your head on the table. “I give up,” you declare dramatically, “I’ll drop out and become a taxi driver.”

San laughs. “First of all, you can’t drive that well. Second of all, you’d make more money as a stripper.” He dodges your smack with ease. “Third, you’re smart and you’ll ace these like always. You’re just a little mentally constipated. Why don’t you join me tonight?”

You think about it for a minute. While you probably do need a break from staring at your laptop, you know how wild the parties San goes to can get from personal experience. And you don’t think it’s a good idea when it's the end of your semester and the final year of your master's program. You just can’t afford to do that. “I’ll pass this time,” you sigh. “Maybe after exam season.”

San hums. “All right. Make sure to take a break, though,” he reminds you, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. “See you later.”

He soon disappears out of the door and you turn your focus away from your best friend to your homework. You feel bad for whoever his new conquest will be at the party.

In your opinion, it’s best to keep San at arm’s length when it comes to a romantic relationship. Not that you like him, but you also don’t want to be another notch on his bedpost, and you most certainly do not want to ruin your eight-year-long friendship. It’s not hard to see that San isn’t interested in a long relationship, not right now at least.

You honestly find it amusing that so many girls and guys still throw themselves at him and then get upset when he doesn’t give them a second glance after the initial night. His reputation precedes him, especially in your small town, and yet there will always be a line out the door for him. You don’t even know how he knows so many people.

With a sigh, you clear out your thoughts and refocus on your organic chemistry work. You’re lucky your job offered to pay for your master's classes, but the workload is killing you inside. You’re incredibly happy you’re almost done, and with newfound motivation, you hunker down and start writing out your notes again.

It’s almost two in the morning when you finally yawn and start putting your books away, and it’s almost three when you hear the front door open and the sound of San stumbling into the shoe rack as he always does. “You’re home already, Sanah?”

“YN!” San stumbles his way into the bathroom where you’re combing your hair, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his flushed face into your neck. “You’re still up?”

You laugh, tapping him on the head with your brush. “Yes, but I’m about to go to bed. And you should too, you know.”

San groans, his hold on your waist tightening and his words slurring together. “I don’t wanna,” he whines, “the bed's too cold.”

You sigh fondly. This happens almost every time he drinks, and usually, that’s why he doesn’t drink too much when he’s by himself. He gets too cuddly with people and you’re usually the one to keep him from bedding everyone he sees. You suppose he somehow didn’t end up with anyone in bed and he’s disappointed now. “Do you think you’ll ever ask to sleep with me nicely, or will you just settle for wrestle-cuddling me into my own bed?” you ask, rolling your eyes as San does not answer, just pulling you towards your room. “There’s my answer.”

You’re too used to his drunk antics and just let him move you around. It’s comforting in a way, that he’s comfortable enough around you to do this with you, and it makes your heart warm whenever he throws his arm around you and presses his face in your neck.

You’d never admit it, but it’s nights like this when you sleep the best. With his warm breath tickling your neck, you let your body relax and your eyes flutter shut.

“God, I’ve got a raging headache,” San groans when he sees you enter the kitchen with a mess of bed hair. “I went so crazy with the soju last night, I think I’m going to die.”

You laugh, reaching for the pot to make some oatmeal for him. “Don’t be so dramatic. Why did you even drink so much anyway? No bitches?”

San snorts but immediately whines from the sharp pain that probably shot through his skull. “You’re so mean to me! No, I got no bitches, but that was from my own choice anyway. I don’t want to fuck around anymore.”

Both your eyebrows raise into your hairline. “No? What changed things, hm? Finally decided your one true love is Byeol?” As if on cue, your shared cat meows and curls around your ankles, and you bend down to scratch behind her ears.

“Never had to decide that, we all know she’s the real number one in my life. No, I think I’m interested in someone.” You stop your petting of Byeol, who meows in protest and runs off to pout somewhere. “Come on, don’t act like you just saw a ghost.”

“Who?” is the only question that comes out of your mouth. Of course, San has had a crush before, but he’s never stopped screwing around unless he was actively dating that person. He’s a fuckboy, but he’s not a piece of shit at least. This is new.

“Lee Yeseul. I met her yesterday at the party, and she’s so sweet. She was so out of place at the party, and not in a mean way. She just…has such an aura around her.” San’s voice is soft even just talking about her and you get the feeling he’s being serious. “We’re meeting up for coffee today.”

“That’s…amazing, Sanah. I really hope it goes well for you,” you smile at him, pushing a bowl of oatmeal over to him. “Don’t forget to let me make a speech at your wedding.”

San chuckles, rolling his eyes at your jokes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t you have study group today? Go there and stop bothering me.”

You ruffle his messy hair before planting a kiss on it and pinching his cheek. He blindly reaches around to smack at you but you dodge him easily, laughing as you head out to grab your keys. “See you later, Sanah. Have a good da-ate.”

San grumbles at you but ultimately returns to his food. You think you can hear him muttering about you being a pain in the ass and you smile to yourself. You don’t have the heart to tell him you know Lee Yeseul…and she’s a major bitch. You sincerely hope she’s sweet to San at least—he deserves the best. But you find her absolutely draining, especially with how often she talks about herself and doesn’t pay attention to anyone else ever. If she cries in your class one more time you think you might smack her yourself.

You still remember the time you had gotten a call that your grandfather had died, and after overhearing your conversation, instead of comforting you, she started talking about how “so many of my family members died in the past ten years.” Sure, maybe she was trying, but you’ve known about her antics enough that it was clear she just wanted to make it about her.

But if San likes her, who are you to interfere? He has a pretty good eye for who has a good personality so maybe Yeseul has changed. You’re not one to stop him. Not that you ever could. When he first started going out to party, you would tag along to make sure he wouldn’t make any bad decisions, but your efforts seldom paid off. You’re pretty sure he must be blessed since he somehow hadn’t pissed off anyone majorly enough to have them call a hit on him.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of these thoughts and go to the library. There’s no use dwelling on it, the more you think about it, the worse your feeling about his crush on Yeseul gets. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t need you to parent him.

“Woah, who pissed in your cereal?” You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to hide your bad mood from your study buddy, Hongjoong. Although you only see him for studying, you’re confident enough to call him your closest friend other than San. “Are you okay?”

You sigh, dropping your books on the table. It earns you a harsh ‘shh’ from the librarian which you apologise half-heartedly for. “Do you remember Yeseul? Lee Yeseul?”

Hongjoong’s brows raise high into his hairline. “The professional bitcher? What did she do now?”

“San’s into her, and with her personality, she’s probably loving the attention from the professional heartbreaker.” You groan, glaring at the cover of your organic chemistry textbook. “It’s none of my business if he cares for her, but damn, I wish he could’ve picked anyone else.”

Hongjoong hums, leaning forward and poking at the top of your head. “Look, you’ve been his friend for years. I think you have a bit more of a reason to poke your nose into his business than most. Give it a few weeks, and if it truly bothers you, then you can bring it up to San.”

You sigh. “Maybe.” You say nothing else on the topic and Hongjoong knows not to broach it anymore. Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so smart.

“YN, I didn’t know you knew Yeseul!” is the first thing San says to you one week after he returns from one of his many dates with her. “When I mentioned you being my roommate she told me you were in the same class as her.”

You wince to yourself as you take a long swig of your coffee. “Mmh, I didn’t think it was that relevant,” you say. You can practically hear Hongjoong rolling his eyes at your excuse. You know you should tell him your qualms about Yeseul, especially since the gross feeling in your gut has only gotten stronger. But you’re not sure you want to tread those waters. San’s sweet, but he’s loyal to a fault and probably wouldn’t like you talking badly about Yeseul.

San narrows his eyes, clearly suspicious but not willing to pry. “Well, maybe if we ever find you a date, we can go on a double date.” He moves on pretty quickly, though, walking over to lean over your shoulder and look at your laptop. “Still going on that paper?”

You hum, cracking your knuckles. “Yeah, it’s due tomorrow so I need to pump it out today and then get Hongjoong to look it over.” You lean back, letting your head rest on San’s torso as you yawn. “I can’t wait for this to be over so that I can graduate already.”

San laughs, leaning down to rest his chin on your head. “You’re smart. You can do this. And when you’re done, I’ll take you to a party and we can celebrate.”

You groan, shifting forward and putting your hands back on the keyboard. “Well, in that case, I should get back to writing this.” As you start typing again, you hear the buzzer ring and the warmth of San’s body leaves you as he goes to check who it is.

“Oh, hey, Yeseul! Come on up!” Your eyebrows raise into your hairline and your head snaps up. Why would Yeseul go to all this trouble of coming here? Didn’t they just see each other?

You close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths before facing the dragon herself. You can hear the tell-tale sound of her voice pitched up to sound more sweet, although it’s grown to be grating on your ears. “Hi, Sannie,” she purrs and you have to refrain from retching. “I was on my way home but I realised it went right by your apartment so I figured I could come say hi. It doesn’t look like you’re too busy, right?”

“No, not at all,” San replies, and you hate how sweetly he talks to her. “YN is in too, she’s writing her final paper. Wanna say hi? She could probably use the distraction.”

No, I don’t need the distraction, is what you want to scream out, but your mother did not raise you like that although you wish she did. Instead, you just smile politely at the girl entering your kitchen. “Hello, Yeseul. Good to see you again.”

“Hey, YNie!” Her cheery nickname for you has your eye twitching. “How’s the paper going? I finished mine a few weeks ago so I’m home free. Just need to submit it.”

“That’s great, Yeseul,” you say, tone slightly more monotonous than you wanted it to be and San shoots you a look. “Hopefully you get a good grade on it.”

“Hey, would you want to join us for dinner?” San cuts in and you can already feel a headache starting to pulse behind your eyes. “I was going to order pizza since it’s my turn today and I’m not nearly as good of a cook as YN.”

“Oh, that would be lovely! I don’t mind whatever toppings,” Yeseul claps happily. The urge to punch her in the face increases bit by bit for you. San nods happily, stepping out into the living room to place the call. After a moment, Yeseul turns to you with puppy eyes and you brace yourself for whatever she has up her sleeve. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water, YNie?”

You try your best to keep your composure as you get up to fetch her a glass of water. She takes it without even a thank you and you decide you’d much rather die than deal with her any longer so you close your laptop with a sigh. “I’m actually meeting with a friend for dinner, but you definitely should stay and have fun,” you say, smiling as plausibly as you can. You do not have dinner plans but you’re sure you can figure it out.

When you go into your room, you’re drawing blanks. You’re still going out, but you’ll probably just end up calling a friend to complain. As you leave the room and grab your keys, San meets eyes with you and frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Ah, I promised to have dinner with a friend so I’m heading out. Enjoy your time with Yeseul, though.”

The furrow between San’s brows deepens. “But I already ordered the pizza.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can bring the leftovers tomorrow for lunch. Sorry, I just forgot to tell you, but I really have to go now. Bye!” Before he can say goodbye as well, you slip out the door. The suffocating feeling that is encompassing you lifts and you sigh in relief, but then you somehow feel worse at the idea of San and Yeseul having fun and giggling and cuddling.

You shake your head again, trying to clear your muddled thoughts before setting down to go find your dinner. Fast food was the easiest option, and you figured you could at least sit in your car and wallow in self-pity.

After you receive your order you park and pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. You don’t want to call your family because as much as you love them, they can be a bit over-protective and probably will offer to help you find a different apartment and that would be a bit dramatic. In the end, Hongjoong is probably the next best option.

He doesn't pick up immediately, and you’re just about to hang up when the phone crackles and Hongjoong’s voice comes through. “Why are you calling me?”

You can’t help but bark out a laugh at his disgruntled tone. “Hongjoong, it’s a perfectly reasonable hour to call, don’t blame me for your shit sleeping schedule. Are you actually free though?”

Hongjoong sighs and if you focus you can hear the sound of him rolling over in bed. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Yeseul again. She came around today, and it was just…so suffocating. Like, why did San have to pick her? There’s so many girls, and out of them all he picks her? The most bitchy one I know?”

Hongjoong hums. “Why does it annoy you so much?”

You groan, leaning your head back and taking a long sip of your drink. “She’s self-centred, bitchy, and she’s just so fake. I don’t think this relationship will end well, Joong. Clearly he’s just blinded and she’s so manipulative.”

“But why are you so bothered by this specifically? I mean, sure we’ve had bad interactions with Yeseul, but you’re pretty nonchalant about the shit San gets up to and you like to let him deal with the consequences himself.”

You frown glaring at the phone although you know he can’t see it and you pop a fry into your mouth. “I don’t know. It just feels different. I feel like I should interfere this time. I mean, he’s a lot more serious this go around.”

Hongjoong hums, rolling once again as he yawns. “YN, be totally honest with me. This is a shot in the dark, but I think this is pretty important.” You hold your breath in anticipation. “Do you like San?”

“Oh sure, he’s a good friend–”

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant.” You bite your lip, stiffening in your chair. “YN, you need to be honest with yourself. The way you talk about San, you interact with him, it’s not how just roommates, just friends interact. You kiss each other's heads, YN. And it can be platonic, but I’ve rarely seen San do that to his female friends, and I’ve never seen you do that, period. You don’t even kiss me.” His voice turns teasing on the last bit but you’re too shocked to register.

Do you like San? You love him like a friend, of course. But when you think about him being with anyone else, even if it wasn’t Yeseul, something in you aches. When you think about San’s smile being directed to anyone else, you can feel a burning in your gut. The answer is clear, whether you like it or not.

“I…yes. I do.” The confession comes out quietly. “But I don’t want to do anything about it. Like you said, it’s up to San whether he likes Yeseul enough. I can’t interfere.”

You can practically hear the look Hongjoong would be levelling at you. “Why not?”

You shrug. “When San likes someone, nothing can stop him from liking someone unless he wants to. I’ll just let it run its course and hopefully my own feelings will vanish in the process.”

“That doesn’t sound very healthy, YN.”

You let out a despondent laugh. “Sure, probably not. But who knows? Maybe I can find someone else in the process.” You let out a sigh before glancing at your now-cold sandwich. “I gotta head out, but thanks for talking, Joong. I’ll see you in class.”

Hongjoong can barely say goodbye before you hang up the phone and lean back. This is going to be difficult. The more you see Yeseul, the more you know you’ll accidentally slip up and something will tip her and San off. Your headache is pulsing behind your eyes and you take a small bite of your sandwich, your appetite diminishing. You miss being a child and your biggest worry is that San sneezed on your lollipop.

With another groan, you wrap up the sandwich and just go for a late-night drive instead to clear your head. It’s something that has never failed to calm you down and keep your mind level. San always berates you for driving alone at night, but you’d like to say you’re pretty safe. Plus, even he has agreed that it’s pretty calming when—you frown, forcing thoughts of San to leave your brain.

You don’t really know how long you’ve been out, but it’s surely long enough that Yeseul has left. As you carefully open the door, there’s a long silence, and you sigh, happy you made it home free. But as you’re about to call out for San, you hear a high-pitched moan come from his bedroom. And it certainly is not San.

You almost turn tail and head right back out of the apartment when you hear San’s reverberating moans fill the house. Against your better judgment, you take off your shoes and step closer towards his bedroom. His bedroom door is cracked open and curse him for putting his mirror right in view where you can see him leaning back on his bed, his lower half hidden off the edge of it and you can only see Yeseul’s knees.

And in your head, you know it’s wrong. But your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel heat building in your core. And, well, you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve. You keep yourself pressed against the wall, staring at the way the muscles in San’s neck strain and the way he moans with every snap of his hips. You’re sure your panties are soaked through by now, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. The taste of copper enters your mouth but you couldn’t care less.

It’s only when San sits up, probably to fuck into Yeseul better and he disappears from the mirror that you rip yourself away and escape into your own room. Not another thought enters your brain as you strip your leggings and underwear off, flopping on your bed and closing your eyes as you let your hand trail down to press against your slick pussy. It doesn’t take long for you to sink your fingers into your sopping cunt, turning your head to bury your face into your pillow.

The guilt in the back of your mind is quickly sent away as you imagine San’s hands fucking you instead. He’s always had well-worn hands, and your brain fogs up as you imagine him leaning forward to mouth at your neck as he fucks you.

Your brain flips back and forth between the idea of him eating you out so well and fucking so many loads into you with his thick cock that your stomach swells and you whimper into your pillow as your core tightens and you come onto your fingers. You feel tears prick your eyes as you get up to wipe your hands of the cream coating your fingers and toss the tissue in the trash. You’re not sure how you’ll be able to face San or Yeseul again after that.

You can feel the shame burning inside of you and you close your eyes and cry yourself to sleep silently.

Waking up is disorienting, your eyes red-rimmed and your bottom lip raw and blood dried on it. You feel like death and you’re pretty sure you can’t attend class like this. You lean over and grab your phone, yawning as you send your professor a text with a weak excuse. You don’t really care how plausible it is, Professor Jeong usually is quite understanding so you don’t worry about that for too long. San had texted you an hour ago, asking if you had come home, and you choose not to answer it.

You can hear mumbling in the other room, probably Yeseul and San sharing goodbyes, when you hear the door shut behind her. Unlike you, she’s probably happy to go to class and tell all her friends about her night with the campus fuckboy.

It takes another thirty minutes for you to finally roll out of bed and put some lotion on your face, hoping for the traces of the questionable night you had to erase from your face. Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you venture out into your living room where San is standing by the door. “When did you get back?” he asks without even turning around. “I texted you like, an hour ago.”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes as you move into the kitchen to find breakfast. “I only just woke up, San.”

Your roommate gives a short huff, following close behind you. “Don’t you have class? Yeseul just left so you could walk with her.”

You try not to roll your eyes at the idea of that. “I’m not feeling well so I don’t think I’ll go.” “You’re not feeling well?” San’s voice deepens in concern and as you grab a yoghurt, he places his hand atop your forehead. “You are feeling pretty warm.”

At his touch, too many memories of last night flood through your brain and you shake away his hand. “Yeah. I’ll just go lie down for a little. Have a good day.”

Before he can say anything else, or realise your suspicious behaviour, you dodge past him and head off back into your room to hide. “I left your pizza in the fridge,” he calls after you and you just grunt in thanks before barricading yourself in your room.

You lean against the door for a minute before you realise you didn’t even grab a spoon. Unwilling to go back out there, you’ve resigned yourself to licking it out of the container like a cat when you hear a gentle knock at the door.

“I got you a spoon,” San’s unsure voice filters through the wooden door, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Thanks, San,” you murmur, turning to open the door a crack and take the proffered utensil. “Sorry for being short with you.”

His lips quirk into a half-smile, a silent acceptance of your apology. “I get it. Just get some rest, YN.”

You close the door again, this time a warm heart in your chest mixing with the guilt you still feel in your gut. You’re not sure how on earth you’re going to get over your feelings for San.

Avoiding San goes well for the most part. You are in your finals week anyway, and you’re spending most of your time at the library or in class. Your college’s library stays open for 24 hours during the last week of school anyways so some nights you’ve just been staying there until morning. Hongjoong disapproves heavily but doesn’t say much about it and you appreciate his support either way.

Avoiding Yeseul proves much harder. She seems to always find her way to wherever you happen to be, interrupting you and Hongjoong’s study sessions with a perfect smile and narrowed eyes. You don’t know what she wants from you, and you aren’t pleased with her presence.

But one evening, you’re about to leave the library to have some dinner when she corners you. “YN, let’s talk,” she says in that sickeningly saccharine voice of hers, looping her arm into yours and pulling you down the street. “I have some things to ask you.”

Unwilling, you try to tug your arm out of her grasp, but the girl is stronger than you expected. She pulls you all the way to her dorm on campus, sitting you down on her leather couch. “What is your relationship with Choi San?”

Her question comes so suddenly you need a minute to register. To her credit, Yeseul waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts. “He’s my friend and roommate?” you say as truthfully as you can muster, although you know it’s an absolute lie, and judging from her expression, Yeseul doesn’t believe you either.

“Don’t take me as a fool, YN. The way he talks about you is undeniable.”

“That seems like something you should be talking to him about,” you say, attempting to get up from the couch but Yeseul just pushes you back down.

“I’ve tried. He just tells me there’s nothing to worry about and I don’t believe that,” Yeseul grits through her teeth.

And you have to give it to her. She did try to come to San about her worries. But the way she refuses to trust him grates on your nerves. He stopped his fuckboy activities to be with her, and yet she’s worried about you, one of the few girls who isn’t all over him at any moment. You arch a brow. “Do you not trust him?”

Yseul scoffs. “Of course not. He’s a fuckboy. But I like the status I get with him. I just don’t want to end up embarrassed.”

Well, that will be inevitable, you can’t help but think to yourself. No matter how much your relationship with San is strained, you’re not about to let Yeseul talk shit about him like he isn’t genuinely trying for her.

“That’s where you come into play,” Yeseul’s smirk turns sharp. “I’m going to call San. Ask him to choose between us. If he chooses you, then I want you to stay far, far away from him.”

You shrug. No matter the outcome, it’s not like you’re not already keeping your distance from San. In the end, you’ll just tell him to break up with her and let him deal with the chaos himself. “Go ahead,” bitch.

San picks up on the first ring. “Yeseul?” He’s cheery and your heart aches at the thought of Yeseul breaking his so easily. “What’s the occasion?”

“Hey, babe, I just have a quick question, and I need you to answer truthfully for me, okay?” At his pause, she takes that as a go-ahead. “Who would you pick? Me or YN.”

There’s a long silence on the phone. “Yeseul, we need to break up.”

Only one thing unites you and Yeseul in this moment, and it’s your shared confusion for San’s reaction. “What do you mean?” her voice turns panicked. “Isn’t that a little far?”

“You’ve been stuck on this, and I don’t know how much I have to reassure you, Yeseul. I haven’t even seen YN for the past two weeks. And she’s my closest friend. I’m not dropping her for a two-week relationship. I hope you have a good time, Yeseul.”

Before you can react at all, Yeseul screeches and points an accusing finger at you. “This is all your fault, YN!”

Your jaw drops at her absolute audacity. “My fault? What are you on? I was just trying to live peacefully when you dragged me into this plot ignoring my advice. I told you to talk to him, to just fucking trust him. God, you’re an idiot. And I’m going home.”

Without another word, you leave, still fuming over that interaction. Couldn’t she just have made the call without you? You’re happy you don’t have to do all the convincing for San to leave her, but that just complicates things for you. Would he really so easily drop Yeseul just for you? From what you’ve heard, he was practically head over heels for her.

With another sigh, you head back to the library. You need to finish that exam.

“Pens down, and turn in your exams,” you hear the professor call, and you don’t think you’ve ever gotten up so fast. You’re so, so fucking happy that you’ve finished your last year and now you’re free.

As soon as your professor accepts your paper you race out of the lecture hall, only stopped by the cafeteria when you hear someone call your name. Lee Juyeon, someone you’ve started growing closer to, waves you down. “Hey, YN, congrats on finishing!” he smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, the giddiness contagious.

“Thanks! You too,” you say, pulling him into a hug. “It’s so nice to be done.” Practically nothing could dampen your mood, especially seeing Juyeon. He’s sweet, and you have an inkling he likes you. And you’re not opposed to it.

“It really is,” Juyeon agreed cheerfully. “Look, I have to go celebrate with my family, I just wanted to say hi. But hey…there’s this end of the year party on Saturday, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

And your suspicions were right. You think about it for a moment. You’re not the biggest party person, anyone knows that, but Juyeon is sweet and just what you need, so you accept eagerly. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to exchange numbers and for him to promise to send you more details before he runs off. And through your excitement, you know you still have to go meet with San who’s probably waiting for you just outside. He wanted to see you as soon as you finish your exams, and you didn’t have the heart to decline.

“Congratulations on finishing your last exam, YN!” San cheers as soon as you exit the college building. “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re too tired to complain when San sweeps you up into a hug, just letting yourself relax in his firm arms. After all this work, you think you’ll let yourself indulge in his affection. “Thanks, Sanah. I appreciate it.” You let your chin rest on his broad shoulder, closing your eyes and letting the exhaustion take over you. “Can I go to bed now?”

You hear him chuckle, the vibrations from his chest comforting you. “Yeah, yeah. We can celebrate later. Come on.”

He tugs you all the way to your apartment, dropping you on the couch and quickly curling right up next to you. You can’t bring yourself to care. “I’m proud of you,” he repeats into your hair as he tucks your head into his neck. Your eyes flutter shut.

When you reopen them, it’s bordering on evening. San is no longer wrapped around you, and you can hear him moving about in the kitchen. “San,” you call out, voice raspy from having just woken up. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, I’m making dinner,” he responds, his voice too warm for your liking, your heart beating just a little faster. “Come and eat.”

With a bit of difficulty, you rise from the couch and move to the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter. “Japchae? When did you learn how to cook this?”

San chuckles. “Wooyoung taught me the other day because he was bored. I figured it’d be a nice surprise for you after all your hard work.”

Your lips twitch, unsure if you should smile or pout. “That’s sweet. Thank you again, San.”

As you start eating the noodles (there’s a little too much sesame but you don’t have the heart to tell San that), San clears his throat. “So…I promised to take you to a party.”

You vaguely remember this conversation. “Ah, yeah. What did you have in mind?”

“There’s this end of the year party, it’s supposed to be the biggest one, hosted by Jackson Wang.”

“Ah–” you shake your head, eyes apologetic. “I promised someone else I’d go with them. I didn’t know that was the party you wanted to take me to. Maybe we can do something else on a different day?”

San’s lips turn downward the slightest bit. “That’s okay. There are other parties. Who invited you, by the way?” His tone is casual, and yet you still feel like you’re walking into the lion’s den.

“Ah, Lee Juyeon from college. I think he’s in Hongjoong’s philosophy department, but he’s a year behind. He’s cute so I figured I’d give it a try.”

“It’s a date?” Your brows furrow at the heaviness in San’s voice but you pay it no mind and nod. “I see. Well, have fun.”

The rest of the dinner is filled with silence, San picking at his food and you in no mood to try and dissect his mood. He takes your empty bowl and starts doing the dishes, and you mumble out a thank you before running back to your room. He’s clearly not willing to talk more and it’s best to give him space.

As you lay in bed, you can’t help but worry about what is so grating on his mind after you mentioned your date. You can’t think of anything that would cause him to be angry—as far as you’re aware he has no grudges against Lee Juyeon, much less met him. Shaking your head, you try and fall asleep. It’s best not to dwell on it, you can just ask him tomorrow.

It’s Saturday, and you’re in a foul mood. San hasn’t spoken to you in the four days leading up to the party, avoiding you like there’s no tomorrow. The only saving grace comes in the form of Juyeon’s excited texts, telling you all about his outfit for the party, and you respond with matching enthusiasm. When you meet with Juyeon in front of the large house where the party is held, the thought of San isn’t even on your mind. Instead, you just take Juyeon’s offered hand and follow him into the party.

You weave through the bodies, reaching the counter where shots are being passed around. “Want vodka or tequila?” Juyeon asks, his voice pitching higher to be heard over the bass. Without answering him, you just reach for the bottle of tequila, pouring the two of you shots. “Good choice,” Juyeon laughs, throwing his head back as he downs the alcohol, you following suit shortly.

“You know, I never pegged you for a college party fan,” you lean in, laughing. “Maybe I should hang out with you more.”

Juyeon chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Maybe you should. I know great party-throwers. Although I’ve heard you’ve been to your fair share, what being San’s friend and all.”

You shake your head, a smile on your face. “Maybe at first, but you know, organic chemistry isn’t an easy major to balance with a party life.”

Juyeon laughs loudly, bumping you with his hip. “I understand the pain. Philosophy falls into that category of majors too. Another shot?”

You take the second shot happily, letting the alcohol burn through your veins as you stumble alongside Juyeon’s wandering through the crowd. Whatever you’re doing is a blur, all you can focus on is Juyeon’s smile and his warm hand holding yours.

It feels like barely a moment has passed when Juyeon pulls you into a nearly empty room of couches, only a few other couples lingering in the corners. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Juyeon starts, his eyes sparkling as he takes in your appearance. “It’s been fun hanging out.”

“I did too,” you agree with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes.

He leans in, and you lean in, and your lips brush. It’s a sweet kiss, one that you lean into as Juyeon wraps his arms around your waist. It’s warm and you smile into it. And then a familiar face pops into your head. You wonder to yourself how San would kiss you, if he would do it as sweetly as Juyeon or if he would devour your lips like it was his last meal.

When Juyeon pulls away for air, you feel guilt burning in your stomach again. Why would you think of other men when Juyeon’s right here in front of you? As Juyeon leans in to kiss you again, you almost move back before a hand grips your shoulder and pulls you into a broad chest.

“Hey, man, I’m going to have to talk to YN if you don’t mind.” You’d recognise your best friend’s voice anywhere, and it only serves to fill you with annoyance. Sure, you weren’t as into Juyeon’s kisses as you expected, but it doesn’t mean you’re thrilled to be interrupted by the man who’s been ignoring you.

Juyeon takes one look at San, and something changes in his eyes. A mix of reluctance and acceptance, and with a short nod and smile towards you, he slips away from you. You turn to San, frowning at the sharpness in his narrowed eyes, not one you’re used to seeing or enjoy seeing. “Why would you kiss him?” he spits, and your annoyance grows with confusion being added to the mix.

“What do you mean, ‘why kiss him’? I told you, San, I was on a date. Why the fuck did you interrupt us?”

“I like you.” Those three words would be a dream for you to hear from his mouth…if you weren’t so pissed.

“No, fuck that. I do not need to hear that from you right now. Not when I was enjoying my night with Juyeon. What was confessing supposed to do for you, San? It’s too late now. I wanted to enjoy this party, and now I have to go apologise to Juyeon for you.” San opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, pushing him away from you.

You leave San standing by himself as you search for Juyeon, your mood immediately souring. Why would he fucking do this to you? You can feel tears burning your eyelids and you abandon your search for Juyeon, searching instead for some liquor to take away your embarrassment.

As you pour yourself another shot of tequila, you notice a familiar face, Hongjoong talking to a girl you recognise as someone he hangs out with sometimes. They look like they’re getting it on and you feel a little bad, but you need his advice. “Hey, Kim Hongjoong!” you call out to him, waving him over. Hongjoong’s eyes brighten and he makes his way over, leaving the girl staring after him longingly, but her attention is soon taken away by two other guys. You recognise one of them from the cafeteria but you don’t remember his name.

“Hey, YN, what’s up? I didn’t expect to see you here, did San take you?” Your face falls and Hongjoong realises he stepped into dangerous territory. “Okay, what happened?”

“I can’t believe San is mad at me for kissing someone at the party,” you groan after explaining to Hongjoong the events leading up to now. “Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best move on my part but he’s had like, twenty million one-night stands, and yet I can’t kiss someone else? He hasn’t even talked to me after I mentioned going on a date. And yet he looked positively murderous after he saw me kissing that other guy.”

Hongjoong tilts his head, confused. “Isn’t that what you wanted, though? You like him.”

“I did! I do! But I’m so sick of waiting around for him, and I could’ve had a chance at liking someone else. He’s all over the place, and I don’t know if that’s what I want in a man.” You’re lying to both Hongjoong and yourself, and Hongjoong knows it, raising an eyebrow.

“Honestly, YN, it just sounds like you need to talk to him.” Hongjoong crosses his arms, tapping his foot and eager to back to the girl was with, but also not wanting to ditch you in your time of need. You feel a little bad for pulling him away, but your mind is swirling with so many thoughts, you don’t know if you can sort them out by yourself and drinking to erase those thoughts is not something you like to do. You’re not San.

And speak of the devil, you smell his familiar cologne before his hand lands on your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. You whirl around out of his grip and glare at him. “Get off me,” you snap. “I’m in the middle of a conversation right now, Choi San.”

With one glance at Hongjoong, he raises his hands and winks at you. “Have that talk, YN. It’ll do you more good than harm.”

Oh, you’re going to kill that traitor after the party. You turn your attention back to San, your mouth twisted into a frown. “You make this quick or else.”

San has the decency to look a little ashamed as his eyes shake. “Can we talk on the patio? It’s too loud in here.”

With a dramatic sigh, you grab his wrist and pull him through the crowd to the back door, practically slamming it behind you. You can see the eyes of people interested in the drama through the windows but you pay it no mind. “Speak. You get five minutes before I go back in and you don’t talk to me again for the rest of the night.”

San’s face falls and his lips pull into a pout. But no matter how subconsciously adorable he is, you refuse to fall for his charms this time. The heat of anger is still curling in your gut when you think about the argument from earlier. “YN, come on, I had a good reason.”

You shake your head, ignoring the strands of hair that fall into your eyes. “No, San. Confessing to me is not a good reason to fuck up my night. You didn’t even apologise. You’ve been ignoring me for days after I mentioned my date, and the moment I kiss Juyeon you get all angry and jealous? Be for real.” You pause for breath, glaring daggers into his eyes. “You are not owed my time, especially after that shit you pulled. Yeseul’s jealousy is why you broke up with her, so why are you like this to me?”

San’s gaze intensifies and you can see him actively trying to reign in his temper. Although he does his best to remain calm, if tempers are rising, he can be intense. “YN, what was I supposed to do? Watch you go out with him? Watch you slip from my fingers just like that?”

“Yes!” you all but scream at him. “If I could sit by and let Yeseul take each little bit of your heart, you could’ve done the same! I was going to be happy, San! I wouldn’t have to sit behind and watch you from the sidelines with my heart slowly cracking. But I don’t get that same courtesy.”

You step forward, poking his chest with a finger as you let loose your storm of thoughts. In your anger, you don’t even notice San’s arm moving until it wraps around your waist and pulls you into him. The action shocks you enough that you stop mid-sentence, your finger still pressing into San’s flesh. “You love me?” San leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

You can feel heat flare up in your face as you stare wide-eyed at him. It takes you a moment to register your compromising position and you stumble back, pushing at his chest. “Don’t do that,” you hiss, turning your eyes away. “I don’t like you, San. Not anymore.”

“You’re lying.” San’s voice is firm. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like me anymore.”

You don’t know where you got it from. You’ve never been good at lying, not to San. Maybe it was the alcohol burning through your system, mixing with the shame and anger you feel. But this time, you stare him directly in the eye and say the four words that might’ve been the biggest lie in your life. “I don’t like you.” San’s brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“No–”

“Yes, San. You cannot just waltz around and expect me to keep the patience I had for you. I’m sick of being pulled around like a puppet. Maybe at first you didn’t know. But refusing to give me space when I asked for it?” You shake your head, glancing back at the party. “I’m going back in. We can talk about the apartment lease later.”

Without glancing back, you re-enter the house. And maybe it hurts a little that he doesn’t go after you, but at this point, you’re too numb and all you want to do is go home and cry. But home is not an option, not when it would probably be the first place he would look for you. Fighting back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you slide into your car, staring blankly at the wheel for a long moment until you feel composed and sober enough to drive.

And drive you certainly do. You’re not quite sure where you’re going, and you’re plenty aware that this is a bad idea, but you just let yourself go around and calm yourself down first. The crisp breeze paired with the warm spring air does wonders to clear your head and paired with the late times, there are not too many cars out. It’s peaceful.

You’re not too sure how long you were out, but it’s long enough for the blurry memory of the argument to clear and you groan, pulling over to park by the side of the road and let your head hit the steering wheel. You went too far. San had always been the more emotional of you two, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. He must’ve had a hard time with Yeseul, and although it doesn’t excuse him, you never gave him a chance to properly apologise.

With a sigh, you check your phone to see five missed calls and twenty texts from San asking where you are. He somehow even got your neighbours (a sweet couple in their twenties who babysit Byeol sometimes) to ask you if you’re okay. As your finger hovers over the call button, debating whether to call him back, bright headlights shine behind your car and you stiffen. Your hand hovers over the pepper spray you keep in the dash as you press the call button in a panic. No matter what the disagreement was about, you know San would still come to your aid if you needed it.

“YN, open the door. I’ve been worried sick!” San’s voice crackles through the receiver and you spin around in your seat, squinting at the figure standing behind your car and your shoulders sag in relief.

“God, San, you scared the shit out of me!” you scold, leaning over to unlock the passenger seat and push the door open while hanging up the call. “Get in here.”

A haggard-looking San slides in, his eyes red-rimmed and mouth pressed into a thin line. The car that drove him turns and you look back in confusion before San starts explaining. “I wanted to give you space so I stayed at the party,” he starts explaining after a moment. “But I got worried and went to the apartment to find you. But you weren’t there, and I asked all your friends. I’m lucky you left your location on, and my friend gave me a ride.”

You wince. You forgot about turning off your location, although you’re glad you didn’t as it would’ve been more dangerous otherwise. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, turning your eyes to look out the windshield. “I just needed to clear my head so I went for a drive.”

There’s a long period of suffocating silence between the two of you when San finally speaks, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry,” he starts and your head snaps towards him, eyes wide. Of all the things you expected to fall from his lips, an apology is not one of those things. Not tonight, at least. “I was too pushy. I shouldn’t have ignored you, or interrupted your time with Juyeon. I should’ve talked to you like an adult.”

You laugh, resting your head on the steering wheel. “What an astute observation, San. However did you come to that conclusion?” Your exasperation is evident in your tone and San sucks in a breath at how done you seem. “Look, San. I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be that bad. But I’m just…tired. I’m tired of always wondering what is running through your mind, where I am in your list of importance. You date Yeseul, but break up with her over me. You give me the cold shoulder when I go on a date, but suddenly me being on a date is unacceptable. I just don’t know how to take anything.”

Against your will, tears start to drop onto your thighs, streaking down the skin and you sniff. “Shit,” San panics beside you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He hands you a tissue and you take it with shaking hands, pressing your face into it as San tugs you closer, guiding you to lean against him.

He repeats soft little ‘sorry’s and leans his head atop yours, his tears falling onto your hair. The two of you stay in this position for a long while, no words are needed to understand the emotional moment.

“Let’s go home, YN,” San mumbles, his voice vibrating deep in your heart. “Let’s go home and we can talk tomorrow.”

You sniff again, tears run dry as you sit up and wipe your eyes. “Okay,” you whisper out. “Let’s go home.”

San stays attached to you throughout the drive home, his hand gripping onto your own hand whenever he can, and quickly wrapping you into a back hug as you walk up to the apartment. “I…cuddle with me tonight?” you ask, eyes flitting away from his face, missing the brilliant smile that spreads across it.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he hums, walking with you to his room, and he lets you slide in first, the smell of his detergent filling your mind and your eyelids flutter shut already. San crawls in next to you, pulling you close.

“Good night, YN,” San mumbles as your breathing evens out. As you drift off into sleep, you swear you feel his soft lips on your forehead but you dismiss it as wishful thinking.

When you reawaken, San’s still curled up, your body covered by his, his breathing slow and gentle. You can’t help but blink a couple of times to make sure it isn’t a dream when his arms tighten around your waist and he shifts. “YN?” His morning voice is as rough as always, rumbling low in his chest.

“Hey, Sanah,” you greet him quietly, leaning up to meet his eyes blinking slowly at you like a cat’s. “Good morning.”

“Hi.” He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your scent. “I should probably explain myself.” His voice vibrates against your neck and you giggle softly at the ticklish feeling.

“That would be nice.”

San huffs, but he can’t complain about your snark. “I like you, YN. I don’t know when I started to, and I definitely didn’t realise I did until I started dating Yeseul. I did like her, but not as deeply as I thought I did. It was so easy to break up with her as soon as she made me pick between you and her. The answer came to me without a doubt in my mind as soon as the question left her lips, and yet I still didn’t realise my true feelings.” He laughs self-deprecatingly, and you stroke his hair comfortingly. “I didn’t realise why I was so pissed about you going out with Juyeon, and that’s why I was avoiding you. It’s a stupid reason, I know. But I just didn’t know why, not until I saw you at the party kissing him. I just wanted to be there instead of you. And I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t like me anymore, but–”

“I love you.”

His head snaps up to stare at you after your sudden declaration, and after he registers your words a smile spreads across his face. He puffs out a breathy chuckle and you know his answer before he even says it. “I love you too.”

His eyes shine like you’ve hung the stars in the skies, and when they flit down to your lips, you know an unspoken question when you see it. You lean forward slowly, letting your eyes close once more when your lips meet his.

And damn, you were right about how San kisses. In a second, he deepens the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup your face while his tongue swipes at your lips. Shyly, you part your lips and he dives right in, licking into your mouth and biting at your lips.

“Sanah,” you gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his plush lips. “Sanah–”

You repeat his name like a prayer as his lips travel down to your neck, littering wet kisses and bite marks all over your sensitive skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re so sweet to me,” San moans against your body. “Please, please, let me treat you right, make it up to you. Let me worship you.”

You whine as he laves his tongue over your breasts spilling out of the crop top you had worn last night. Any other time you would’ve stressed at how gross the clothes were but right now you could hardly even think about it. “Fuck, yes, please,” you beg when San nips at your cleavage, leaving a mark.

“Ah, already begging for me,” San groans, his hips pressing into your legs. “You’re so perfect.” His voice grows whiney as his sucks on your nipples, making your back arch.

His kisses move down your body until his breath is ghosting over your stomach and his hands are pawing at your pants, shoving them down as quickly as he can. He doesn’t have the same amount of minimal patience for your panties, and before you can react, he’s ripped them off your legs. “Choi San!” you scold, shifting to try and sit up but his grip on your hips stops you from moving too far.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” San promises before diving right in and sucking at your clit without another moment’s hesitation. Your hips jerk and your core tightens at the sudden feeling as you throw your head back and moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream

His ministrations on your dripping cunt have you wordless. His fingers are pressing into your hip bones, the sensation making you squirm. As soon as his tongue breaches your clenching hole your hands fly down to grasp at his hair. “Fuck–” you squeal, your legs attempting to close but San just pushes them apart again, busying himself in your folds.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” San groans, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine as he lets his teeth scrape against your clit. You can hardly focus on anything at the barrage of sensations filling you up, San fucking his tongue into you so well. Your thighs are shaking as you can feel yourself grow wetter and wetter against his face.

When you tilt your head down, he meets your eyes as he moves one of his hands to push a finger into your hole. “Shit–” your grip on his hair tightens impossibly. “Sanah–”

“Come for me, love,” San groans, and you let the dam break, screaming out his name until your voice is hoarse, and San licks up your release through it all.

When he finally pulls away from your twitching and sensitive core, his lips are covered in your glistening slick, thick globs of it sitting pretty on his chin. Without thinking, you pull him down and crash your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue. San groans as you lick his face clean, shoving your tongue deep into his mouth.

“Fuck, I need to fuck you right now or else I think I might go insane,” San growls, blindly fumbling in his nightstand to pull out a condom as he shoves down his sweats to reveal his hard, red cock. Without another thought, he opens the pack with his teeth, rolling the latex down his length with ease thanks to the precum dribbling down it.

He lines up, the tip of it kissing your hole, when you groan. You’re much too impatient for this, reaching down and holding him steady as you shift your body to sink onto his thick cock. “Shit, YN,” San grits out as you take him deeper and deeper until your cunt kisses his crotch. “You’re too much.”

You pant, shifting on his cock as you try to get used to the stretch. He’s not the longest you’ve had, but he’s thick and the stretch is almost too much. “You’re fucking talking, you fill me up so fucking well, Sanah.” You hiss as you throw your head back, the stinging melting into pleasure. “Fuck me already, San. Or should I go and find Juyeon to–”

You’re cut off by San thrusting into you so violently that you swear the bed shakes. “I don’t want to hear that fucking name out of your mouth anymore,” San commands, leaning forward until his body weight pins you down and your eyes roll back as he starts fucking into you with short, quick thrusts.

With every movement, you feel like you may break apart. You can hear every slick sound, the sound of it obscene, and yet all you want is more. Your previous release coats his cock so well, thick strings of it attaching to his hips.

His arms wrap around your waist, and before you can protest or do anything, he hoists you up until you’re sitting in his lap. You swear this angle makes him impale you even deeper, his cockhead kissing the perfect spot deep inside you. Your head drops to San’s shoulder, moaning against the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck, San, you’re so deep,” you moan high-pitched. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

San growls, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “You’re so tight for me, so much better than Yeseul. I saw you in the mirror, you know,” he whispers conspiratorially and you gasp and clench, snapping your head to look at him. “You’re not as sneaky as you thought, love. Did you touch yourself to the thought of me fucking you so well?”

You whine, words failing you, and San’s hips slow to a stop. You try your best to grind against him but his hands grip your waist, keeping you still. “Please–” you try to beg but San chuckles and nips at your earlobe.

“Answer me, YN.”

“Fuck– Yes!” you cry out, so eager for him to start moving again. “Wanted you to fill me with your cum so well until it was spilling out of me. Please, please, please, fuck me.”

“Hm.” And without any warning, San jerks his hips up into you, biting into your neck like a fucking vampire and you scream, hips stuttering as you come on his cock. You don’t think you’re making any coherent noises, just babbling into his neck as your bones become jelly from the overstimulation.

If you thought the sounds were obscene before, you swear they’ve become ten times worse as you lay limp against San’s body. He’s moving you up and down his cock like a doll and you pant, squeezing your eyes shut as you still feel aftershocks from your orgasm.

“Shit, you’re so warm around me, I’m gonna come,” San moans in your ear, his rhythm breaking as he drops your weight on his cock. You can feel him twitching inside you as his teeth sink into your neck once more. “God, I want to fill you up so badly, but that’s just going to have to wait, my love.”

After a long moment, he pulls out, groaning at your come coating the condom and his thighs. Without thinking, he dips his fingers in the mess and brings it to his mouth, licking it off like it’s the most delicious thing in the world to him. “Come here, baby,” he says in that beautifully raspy voice, and you lean forward, meeting his lips in another kiss.

This kiss is sweet and soft, but the lingering taste of your shared releases still permeates your taste buds. You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder as he lays against the wall with you in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again, pressing another kiss to the top of your head and it’s almost like he hadn’t fucked you like it was your last day on earth. “I won’t ever leave you again.”

You hum, turning your head to pepper kisses over his neck freckles. “I should be the one saying that. I love you, San. And I’ll always run to you with no hesitation.”

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fayes-fics · 14 days

Text

Lessons In Motion

Lessons Series Masterpost

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: An eventful carriage ride with the boys.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest, dom/sub dynamics - dom!Bridgertons sub!reader, masturbation, dirty talk, mild degradation, light spanking/slapping, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, cockwarming, exhibitionism, breast play, edging, bondage restraint, sensory deprivation (blindfold), anal sex, vaginal sex, double penetration.

Word Count: 6.3k

Authors note: Is this the threesome I should be writing? No of course not. Sorry. This was indeed inspired by the synchronised head tilt in the s3 trailer 🤷‍♀️ Part of Lessons-verse, chronologically this takes place before Lessons in Breeding. Thank you to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

You bounce nervously in your shoes, craning to see the ride you are awaiting.

You slipped out the side entrance of the music hall, eager to escape prying eyes, leaving them to exit through the front, picking up their family carriage together. Being a guest in the family box for the evening is one thing; an unattached woman leaving publicly with two of the most eligible bachelors in the country is another matter entirely—you have no desire to provoke the wagging tongues of the Ton. But that does not mean you wish for your night with them to be over, far from it.

With a whinny, a two-horse carriage rounds the corner into the quiet street a few hundred yards from the venue and comes to a halt before you. The windows are all obscured by thick, draped curtains. So much so that you hesitate, hang back under the shadow of the mature oak. Until that is, the door swings open, and a very familiar face pops out, expression bemused.

“Does my girl not wish for a carriage?” Anthony teases with an expectant, fond tone.

You giggle and rush towards the vehicle, climbing in quickly. The door slams behind you as a fist knocks upon the ceiling to indicate for the driver to move on. The carriage is dimly lit by one tiny glass lantern flame flickering, both sets of eyes are eager on you, that molten heat in your belly as you sit opposite them, both so handsome.

“Did you enjoy your evening, gentlemen?” you query, feigning innocence.

They both comedically tilt their heads in brotherly unison, matching bemused grins claiming their lips as Benedict giggles behind his fist.

“Considering where you had your hands all night, you know well we did,” he pipes up, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“Twas rather a boring recital, sir.” Your invocation of his play title makes his chest swell and his pupils dilate. “Should I not have kept myself sufficiently entertained?” He appreciates your sass, nodding with a knowing smirk.

Indeed, you were greatly entertained. But not by the singing onstage. Sitting in the Bridgerton family box, a rigid cock in each hand as you teased them mercilessly, the angle of the seating allowing you the privacy to do so unseen by other patrons. Never letting either of them climax, taking them somewhere close then backing off, each huffing quietly, a white knuckle grip on their chair arms, as your fingers were coated with pre-cum. Most entertaining indeed. At one point, Anthony had hissed how he would have you on your knees and down your throat if you prolonged the torture much longer, but you knew it to be an empty (and entirely welcomed) threat. Now, in the privacy of the carriage, you rather suspect you are about to be taught a lesson for that cheeky behaviour.

“I do believe it is time for payback, brother,” Anthony opines, voicing your exact suspicions, them exchanging their trademark glance—so much communication with no words.

“Yes, I rather suspect a lesson is in order: that which you do unto others, you should expect done unto you,” Benedict forebodes.

Your stomach ripples as he grabs your ankle and roughly pushes it out wide, a hand travelling up your leg, gathering your dress around his forearm as he does. Soon, they discover the secret you held this evening: that you wear no chemise, no stockings, no undergarments at all, in fact—just your blue silk dress and ballet-style shoes.

“You filthy little vixen,” Anthony growls as he sees a flash between your legs.

“Do not pretend this type of indecency is not exactly what you want from her, brother,” Benedict counters dryly as his hand trails up your inner thigh, your breath quickening as he reaches your apex. You cry out, staring Anthony down as Benedict's fingers plunge into your pussy, burrowing deep, leaning his head into yours. “Always so hot, wet and wanting, are you not?” he rumbles into your hair as his fingers start to rock.

“Yes sir,” you know better than to ignore a question that is asked of you. “Only for you and my lord,” you add, knowing they always want to hear it.

“That is right,” Anthony preens, fighting with the buttons of his trousers and taking his sizable cock in hand, watching you moan and squirm on Benedict's invading digits, dripping down onto his palm, the sounds he draws from your body already obscene. You have been soaked since teasing them at the recital.

“I bet even the driver can hear this tight little cunt. Our filthy beautiful girl just drenching herself like the bitch in heat she is…” Benedict remarks casually.

You love it when they call you such taboo names in play, an illicit thrill running down your spine as he smiles predatorily and curls his fingers, hooking against your pussy wall, making you gasp. It's not quite enough pressure. Your head swings to look at him, silently requesting more.

He chuckles. “What did I tell you earlier?”

“Teasing?”

He nods as you pout, sliding his lips right to your ear, his breath hot there. “Until you are a mindless and trembling creature who will do whatever we tell you to.”

You bite your lip and exhale raggedly, your belly constricting at the thought and at the sight of Anthony lazily pumping his cock, wanting to ride it so much your fingers flex upon the velour bench seat, rocking your pelvis with each stroke Benedict takes, hoping to catch a dash of friction upon your engorged clit. He tuts admonishingly when he senses what you are trying to do, curling his free hand around your inner thigh and spanking there. A stinging slap that makes you jump and mewl.

“Stop trying to come so hastily, darling girl. We decide if and when that will ever happen…” Anthony calls out from across the carriage, grabbing your leg and pulling it high and wide. He yanks off your shoe and bites your instep, not hard, but enough to make your whole body jerk, so you slide deeper onto his brother's fingers, moaning and throwing your head back, the rocking motion of the carriage somehow making it a worse tease.

“‘Tis not a long ride to either of your lodgings… surely you cannot tease me forever,” you speculate, spiralling slowly under such expert ministrations, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched, even your teeth feel on edge.

“Oh, my girl, we are not headed to either place. Oh no. We are headed to our country retreat. The ride will take the rest of the night,” Anthony crows. “Our family will be remaining in London. So it will just be the three of us… with hundreds of acres to ourselves,” he grins devilishly, still slowly pumping his cock as he speaks.

“But…” you splutter, “I have nothing with me! No dresses, no shoes...” fretting mildly even as your stomach quivers with the thought of time spent alone with your boys.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Benedict chuckles in your hair, rotating his fingers so they drag over that sensitive spot that makes you shudder. “As if we are going to let you wear anything except our jewels. You shall be naked for days.”

“If you truly object, say your word now,” Anthony states clearly. “And we shall drop you at your home.”

Benedict pauses his motions, awaiting your answer, both always respectful of your full consent. You look at them in turn, then merely shake your head fractionally, basking in their wolfish smiles. Wanting to do this with them—a new illicit adventure. The idea of days alone with both of them in a luxury country idyll is so beguiling. And a definite step forward in your dynamic as a throuple.

“Well, then, might as well tear off this dress right now; start as we mean to go on, right brother?” Benedict breezes as he withdraws his fingers from you, making you whine at the loss. But then he trails them across your decolletage, dipping his head to suckle your juices from your skin, his teeth sinking lightly into the swell of your breast, making you groan loudly and push up into his mouth.

“Agreed,” Anthony practically growls, pushing his trousers further down, cupping his balls now with his other hand.

“But my lord,” you stumble, tearing your eyes reluctantly from that tempting sight up to his face. “I need my dress to alight from this carriage when we arrive. Surely your staff should not see me naked?!" Your dissent is light, core pulsing at the mental image of them parading you naked up the front steps of a grand country house for all the gathered staff to greet your debauched arrival.

“Please,” Anthony withers, “what is a touch of nudity when they will likely find us fucking you in every way and place possible? Our darling little plaything, always so keen, are you not?”

“Yes, my lord, Always.”

Your whisper is obedient, watching him squeeze his cock more forcefully in his fist, his gaze locked between your splayed legs as Benedict yanks down your neckline roughly. The sound of fabric tearing fills the carriage, then their approving grunts as they realise you are without stays.

“Get her naked, brother,” Anthony orders brusquely.

He sets about the task with enthusiasm, your dress ripping along the seams as he deploys both large hands and tears the fine silk asunder. It is one Anthony had paid for, so you do not mourn its loss, you rather suspect he will replace it with one identical in short order.

“If I am always to be naked, then will you warm my body when I am cold, sir?” You coquette, batting your eyelashes, playing up the damsel in distress to Benedict as he pushes aside the remaining fabric from around your front.

“Always sweet girl,” Benedict promises duskily, trailing his palm down your flushed skin, pulling you in for a kiss that is all tongues and heat. It has you canting your now naked body into his, desperate for his fingers, or even better, his cock, to be inside you.

As if sensing your need, Anthony intervenes as your lips break apart, perhaps jealous at the amount of time his brother has had with you.

“Alright, enough of that. I think you are plenty prepared now. Come, my girl,” Anthony pats his thigh invitingly, “come sit on my cock.”

You make a victorious noise and slide out from around Benedict, Anthony grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face away from him.

“Hello, my darling girl,” Anthony greets, his tone like velvet, pulling you snugly against his frame, the brocade of his waistcoat tickling your spine.

Your responding greeting turns into a cry as he guides you down onto his cock, splitting you open in that way it always does, a stretch that is just the right side of discomfort, that heavy weight pressing far inside that you yearn for.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, grabbing your jaw and pulling you back into a plundering kiss, making you pliant in his arms.

“Fuck me, my lord,” you beseech when you realise he is holding your hips down with a slight force, preventing any movement.

“But we have hours,” he drawls unhurriedly, “how about you sit still and just enjoy the ride, hmmm?”

You mewl in protest; as much as the carriage ride is indeed a pleasant rocking motion, your clit is throbbing, needing friction, craving release. You attempt to coax him by squeezing his cock so he groans throatily.

“Stop that. If you defy me, I will never let you come.”

He forcefully grabs your knees and drapes your thighs on either side of his woollen trousers that are bunched around his hips, then splays his legs wide. There’s a burning stretch on your inner thighs as he now holds you obscenely open. You are powerless to do anything but sit obediently upon his cock, whining slightly as the need claws at the edges of your mind.

Across from you, Benedict watches, seemingly transfixed by the sight of you naked and pinned open, speared on Anthony's cock, whimpering as your attempts to move are quelled by those firm hands clamped on your hips. You watch as he unbuttons and takes himself in hand, just as Anthony had, his eyes hungrily raking over your body. It makes you want to climb into his lap and fuck him over and over.

“Will you fuck me, sir?” You lobby, hoping it will get a rise out of Anthony, that it will catalyse him into taking you hard, possessively.

“You know I will, sweet girl,” Benedict responds huskily. “But as my brother says, we have hours, and you will learn your lesson today…”

“I promise I have learned my lesson not to tease either of you,” you implore sincerely, hopeful for absolution, but both of them merely huff a laugh, suspecting it a hollow pledge.

You pout again but relent, leaning back into Anthony, accepting your fate. His lips graze your temple as you rest your head on his shoulder and try to get comfortable. Try to ignore the pulse in your engorged clit with every heartbeat. Try to ignore the press of his frenulum inside, a pressure you feel compelled to rub against. Try to ignore that tingle in your nipples where they pucker hard, desperate for a tongue or some rough fingers.

And that is how you stay for what feels like an eternity. Just the noises of movement and horses upon what is now a dirty track, bright moonlight seeping through the cracks in the curtains as you sit in silent submission, The rocking of the carriage meaning you must occasionally endure the jolts of his cock against your hilt, making your breath catch. Your eyes alternate between fluttering closed and opening to see Benedict idly grasping his cock, but it's too tempting a sight, so you swallow hard and close them again.

However, with your eyes closed, you see worse images dancing before you, taunting you. Flashes of them both lathing their tongues all over your skin, of you on your knees between them, a cock in your mouth and one pounding into your pussy, a loop of carnal push and pull. It makes you leak more, a trickle leaving your body and pooling at the base of Anthony’s cock, nestling in his hair there.

“I can feel how aroused you are,” Anthony purrs into your hairline, almost startling you after many minutes of quiet. “How it is taking every fibre in your being not to defy me. Let’s see how good you can really be for me. Remember, you may not move.”

That’s all the warning you get before his warm, lightly quill-calloused fingers slide over your clit, rubbing an agonisingly light, slow circle. Not enough to do anything but make you shudder and pant, needing more, tiny sparks igniting through your heavy pelvis. Fighting so hard to keep your hips still, wanting more than anything to buck up, bear down onto the hook of his fingers, frottage yourself until you come clenching around his cock so steely and hot inside you.

“Please, my lord,” you grit out, turning to bury your nose into him, huffing his spicy amber cologne, lips brushing the rasp of stubble on his strong jaw.

“I could listen to you beg all night,” Anthony confesses and there’s an edge to his voice that is dark, dangerous, unyielding.

You lament when his fingers disappear, but he rolls his hips with the motion of the carriage, his cock sliding just a fraction deeper, making you cry out, the change of angle promising so much. Your hand flies out for purchase upon something solid but instead seizes the carriage curtain, unintentionally pulling it back so the glass is revealed.

“Oh, excellent idea!” Anthony lauds. “Yes, show yourself to the world, darling girl; show what a wanton thing you are for us.”

By now, though, the busy streets of Mayfair are long behind you. You are out in the darkness past Blackheath, moving fast down the Dover road to rural Kent. If there are any prying eyes, they will only catch a glimpse of you utterly naked, seated upon a clothed Viscount.

“Open the rest, brother,” Anthony clips.

Your eyes ping to Benedict as he releases his cock and pulls open the draped fabric on either side, hooking it back so the inky blackness of night is all around you.

“Imagine being seen, my girl,” Anthony baits. “There could be a highwayman right now lurking among those trees.”

Benedict leans forward, his hand suddenly clasping the jewelled necklace draped around your throat, the one Anthony presented you with just last week. His motion pulls you upright away from Anthony, the tilt of his cock inside you catching your breath.

“They may want this darling girl,” Benedict joins in. “Will you give it to them? Or will you offer something else instead in order to keep it? A more precious jewel perhaps….” He releases your necklace and trails that hand down between your breasts, over your belly, spidering lower until he grazes your clit. “Will you allow him this? Your greatest treasure?”

You moan loudly at his expert touch, a stroke of his middle finger under the hood of your clit making your whole body quake.

“N-no sir, I would not,” you stumble. “That belongs to my lord and to you.”

“Oh, good answer,” he winks, eyes twinkling in the moonlight streaming in as his now wettened finger traces back up over your belly. “But what if that is what we wish? To watch you be fucked by a stranger? A thief in a mask? Would you then?”

“I would do whatever you and my lord want, sir,” you pledge truthfully, then inhale sharply as he grabs the back of your neck and moves in close, his lips ghosting yours as he speaks again, teasing you with an almost kiss.

“I could watch you be fucked by a dozen men and enjoy every single one. I do so love the way your eyes roll when you are being taken rough. How you always, always plead for more, greedy little one that you are.”

Your eyes flit down to see his other fist speeding up around his cock. It makes you clench around Anthony, who groans hard, the air in the carriage somehow notching hotter, tighter, like it’s a fight to breathe.

“Sir,” you murmur on his lips, “Please help me; I am in such need.”

You feel as much as see that crooked, laconic smile claims his face, his cock still in hand. “What do you want from me, darling girl? Be specific, maybe I will do it…”

“Suck my nipples,” you request boldly at his enticement as he tilts back to watch you speak. “Maybe bite them a touch? Use your wonderful fingers upon my pearl; you can surely see it is so swollen...”

You know such explicit language will work for him, and sure enough, his nostrils flare as you ask for precisely what you need, his tongue flicking out to trace around his lips.

“Brother, will you allow it?” Benedict checks, his gaze flitting briefly to the man you sit upon.

“I will,” Anthony concedes, “on one condition: do not let her come, not yet.” He grabs a fistful of your hair, making you inhale sharply, jerking you back against his body, trailing his nose over your cheek. “I do so need her desperate and crying pretty tears for me before I shall allow that.”

Benedict slides to his knees before you, between your splayed legs, and you tremble as his damp lips ghost over the valley between your breasts, nuzzling your skin, inhaling deeply, trailing the point of his nose left to your nipple. You moan loudly as he suckles you into his hot mouth, lips pursed around your puckered teet. Then he glances the edge of his front teeth over your skin, causing a shudder down your spine. His hand cups your other breast, fondling your nipple with swipes of his thumbpad, teasing, while his teeth clamp down and tug away—a beeline to your core.

You mutter a curse and thrash your head a little, settling on pressing your nose into Anthony’s neck and whimpering lightly, so much sensation coursing through you, his cock is still rigid and unrelenting inside you. Muttering as Benedict keeps feasting upon your breasts, biting, suckling, fondling, not allowing you one moment without the tormenting thrill, a quake in your thighs, an odd tingle in your arms, a pressure behind your belly that is a ball of need, wound tight like a spring.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Anthony sighs, wrapping an arm around your head, his bicep bulging against your face through his jacket. “Now you have some sense of how we felt earlier tonight…”

At that, Benedict slides his thumb over your clit, flicking in a sideways motion that has you screaming into Anthony’s skin, clawing your hands into both of their hair, grasping their scalps and making them both growl.

“My lord, sir, please….”

It's a broken, pitiful sound, teetering as you are, reality a blur, a buzz in your brain that is febrile. A tear of frustration prickles your eye at the prolonged agony of denied ecstasy. Just as you are incapable of defying them anymore and have to break, Benedict pauses, pulls back, and watches with that killer smile as you protest even louder, breasts wet with his saliva, goosebumps covering your entire body.

“She is so beautiful like this, brother,” Benedict groans, grabbing himself again and squeezing a few times as if staving off his own orgasm. “You should see it from here….” he adds as he falls back upon the opposite bench.

“I want to,” Anthony confesses, kissing your temple. “I want to see what you look like, my girl, struggling like this; I wish this damn carriage had a mirror….”

“There is one way….” Benedict shrugs, probably aiming for nonchalant but missing entirely. “She may do the same to me?”

“Do you want that, my girl? To sit upon my brother as well?”

“Yes, my lord,” you confess, always eager to gratify them both. “Will I be allowed to come if I do?”

He chuckles into your skin. “Not yet. But if you are good for him too, maybe then.”

Hope flares as Anthony closes his legs and hoists you up and off his cock, you emitting a slight lament at the loss of him as he helps you to turn around and guides you onto Benedict’s lap. Before you know it, you are once again invaded intimately, the stretch different in ways you can’t fully articulate but just as wonderful. Sliding deep, Benedict’s responding moan is hot in your ear as you settle upon him. He hooks your legs over his in the same manner Anthony did, pushing his knees wide open, perhaps even more so, and you hiss at the tugging sensation in your tendons.

“See, brother?” Benedict crows. “Look how spectacular she is…” the words are nuzzled into your temple as he drops a sighing kiss there.

“‘Tis quite the sight…” Anthony agrees lowly as he starts to unwind his cravat while sitting back to admire you. “But I feel she may need those rebellious hands restrained….”

Your belly roils as Anthony grabs your wrists, jerking them forward and binding them with the soft white silk, looping the fabrics many times before tying a tight bow that is unyielding. He doesn’t even ask for your colour, knowing such things are always a green light. What’s new is he guides your bound hands up high, then backwards, curling them behind Benedict’s head with an amused arched eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare move those arms until I say so,” Anthony warns, and all you can do is nod and bite your lip.

“Oh, excellent idea,” Benedict rhapsodises, staring fervently down the plane of your body draped naked over him.

It’s all at once similar and yet different to moments ago with Anthony: the stretch of a cock impaling you, the ache in your thighs forced so wide open, but now with the pulse in your wrists with your hands bound behind Benedict’s strong neck, your fingernails sinking into the plush ruched fabric on the wall behind.

“Watch me, my girl,” Anthony commands.

Drowsy and shaky with unmet needs, you observe as he touches himself again, his proud cock still glistening with your juices as it passes through his fist, tempting, teasing you. Attempting relief by undulating upon Benedict, but balance is more difficult now your hands are bound, instead resorting to supplicant pleas, hoping his empathetic nature will win out.

“Not yet,” he soothes through gritted teeth, but you can sense his quandary, wanting so much to rut into you, his hands flexing upon the dip of your waist.

“You believe I have learned my lesson, do you not, sir?” Your soft appeal is blatant manipulation, reluctantly looking away from Anthony to twist sideways and stare beseechingly into his hazy blue eyes, finding a storm of desire there. Your lips tingle for his kiss as he goes to answer but is interrupted.

“Stop trying to cheat my girl,” Anthony counsels tersely. While he has welcomed Benedict into your dynamic, sometimes residual jealousy rears when you appear to have a moment of connection with his brother, wanting to gain control—the upper hand.

“You heard him. So, are you going to be a very good girl for me?”

Benedict’s voice is a resonant vibration through your back, his frilly shirt tickling your spine. You would do anything for him when he asks like that. Your resounding nod is rewarded with a kiss, and his long fingers snagging around your nipples, your pussy clenching reflexively upon him as his tongue rolls over yours. It makes him stutter a growl into your mouth, which tastes like sin laced with smoky whiskey.

And so you do as asked—sitting meekly, submissively, that heavy distracting weight inside you keening quietly, throbbing between your legs as Benedict tweaks your nipples almost lazily between his paintbrush-calloused fingers, his lips on your neck, sucking gently, a sensation that is all soft, wet heat. Your hooded gaze is glued to Anthony idly stroking himself, only a fraction of movement designed to keep himself aroused, no doubt.

Minutes tick by, so you lean back into Benedict’s body as his touch softens, allowing your breathing to syncopate to his, his chest rising and falling against your back. Despite your thrumming arousal, the effect is soporific, and you find yourself growing so sleepy, eyelids too heavy…

…“Wake up, sweet girl,” Benedict’s bemused voice rings in your ear.

You startle, having no concept of how much time has passed. You are impressed when you realise he is still rock-hard inside you, your legs closer together now.

“For how long was I asleep?” You query, stifling a light yawn. A warmth blooms behind your ribs when you realise that, at some point, they unhooked your arms from behind Benedict's head, your hands resting in your lap, still bound in Anthony’s cravat.

“About a quarter hour,” Anthony chuckles. “You looked so peaceful, but we decided to rouse you to deliver the good news. We believe that you have indeed learned your lesson, sweet girl….”

“Yes, my lord, I have!” You enthuse, suddenly awake again, feeling an instant quickened throb in your clit, hoping it means they will finally take pity on you, fuck you, let you come.

“Then it is time for your reward…”

Anthony’s tone is both benevolent and filthy as he flicks open a small vial that he must have retrieved from somewhere while you were sleeping. He shuffles his trousers down his legs a little further, the smell of olives and clove swirling in the air as he pours the oily substance onto his cock.

“What is my reward, my lord?” You ask as your stomach clenches.

But you already know. There is only one reason he does this. It’s when he wants to claim your bottom, not your pussy.

“You get both of us inside you at once, darling,” he answers with a dangerous smile, and Benedict groans as again, on instinct, you clench around him in excitement.

“She likes that idea, brother,” Benedict offers sardonically from behind you.

“Use your cravat, sir, blindfold me,” you petition, twisting your head to look at him, wanting to feel as much as see tonight.

“By god, I adore you,” Benedict gruffs, his voice laden with admiration and arousal as he dives in for a quick kiss.

Then you feel him fighting off the teal silk behind you, unwinding it rapidly before settling it gently over your face, the gossamer soft fibres still warm from his neck, scented lightly of him. He ties a bow behind your head and then drops a kiss on your shoulder. Then two sets of hands assist you up off of Benedict's cock. You revel in their touch as they gently spin you and guide you backwards onto Anthony’s now bare lap, his trousers around his knees.

As the carriage rocks gently, two oiled fingers slide between your cheeks, and Anthony whispers sweetly as he swirls a finger around your bottom, extolling soft praises as he always does when he takes you here, preparing you for him.

When you murmur that you are ready, you exhale shakily as you feel that intense blunt pressure, now more familiar to you, as he breaches your tight hole, your body stretching to accommodate his oiled cock, slowly sinking into his lap as you take slow, relaxing breaths.

“Exquisite,” he stutters, his hands moving to hold your waist tightly, guiding you the last few inches until you are seated to his root—the utter fill like a sense memory. After a few moments of allowing you to adjust, Anthony changes his stance, pulling your legs open wider and shifting inside in a way that feels pleasurable and makes your hands flex in your binding.

“You like that, do you not?” you can hear the smirk in Benedict’s voice even if you can't see it, feeling his intense gaze upon your body as you raise your head to the sound of his voice and nod.

“Hands above your head, my girl,” Anthony instructs, and instantly, your hands shoot up, the silk binding on your wrists flexing as Benedict grabs your arms and hooks them behind Anthony’s head, his heat looming over you as he does so.

“Good, now are you ready for me too?” he checks, and you just know he has an arched brow, that menacing look; you can hear the pump of his cock in his fist, saliva gathering in your mouth at the very thought.

“Yes, sir.”

“You do not want gentle tonight, do you?” Benedict intuits, likely seeing the hunger writ large across your blindfolded face as he kneels on a little footrest; you can feel his hips at the perfect height, the edge of his cropped jacket snagging the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“No, sir.”

“So very different to the first time we did this,” Anthony remarks knowingly in your ear, invoking the memory of that landmark night in your burgeoning dynamic—the night you truly became a throuple.

It makes you almost wistful even in this carnal moment, that now familiar press of both their bodies, of being sandwiched between them as Benedict leans in. Although tonight, it is not warm skin upon yours, but the slight scratch of wool, the tickle of silk as they remain clothed.

“Perhaps we indulge you too much, with both of us at once…” Anthony chuckles.

“No! Let me have both..” you twist back to implore him, even though you cannot see. “I need you both so much, my lord, sir, I am aching…”

“Well, I cannot deny such a pretty appeal as that, brother,” Benedict avows, and that is all the warning you get before he guides himself into you.

You groan loudly as his tip nudges into your pussy, the stretch of two cocks always making your eyes roll, your toes scrunch hard. Anthony’s hands grasp your thighs, holding you open as Benedict slides deeper inside, their breath uneven, knowing they can likely feel the pressure of each other as much as you can. A curse slips from your lips as they both finally rest entirely within you.

“Darling girl, you always take us so well,” Benedict’s voice lauds, dark and decadent, “so magnificent.”

Your eyelids flutter hard against his cravat, bound and blindfolded, split open upon two cocks… you can think of nowhere else you would rather be.

“Please fuck me…” you entreat, feeling as if you have been pleading for hours with them, your mind scratchy, clawing, like a wild beast clambering up the sides of the carriage, wailing to be sated.

You almost howl as finally, finally, they take pity upon you. Benedict withdraws and then thrusts back into you, aided by the rocking motion as the carriage hurtles through past the fields of Kent, the journey seeming to speed up, mirroring the fevered atmosphere within.

Blindly, you seek a kiss from them both, swivelling to Anthony, then Benedict. Desperate, hot, open mouths meet as you start to set a rhythm together, the friction and fullness radiating pulses of pleasure outwards from where you are joined.

You love it when you are caged between them like this, pinned, hands tied, unable to see. Unable to do anything, indeed, but submit to their whims, entrusting your body and gratification utterly to them, to lay back and take it. Take the endless surges of pleasure, the push and pull, the drag of them both inside you as they change tempo, catching you unawares and making you moan and babble. The noises they wrench from your body are drowned out by the thrum of wheels upon dirt, by the thundering of hooves before you, all of you chasing destinations, literal and ephemeral. Windows fogging with panted breaths, the carriage air almost cloying, all three of you moaning unfettered as pleasure mounts.

“Do you think the coachmen above can hear us?” you gasp out, eyes rolling at the overwhelming sensations of both moving within you, their hips snapping roughly.

“Do you honestly care?” Anthony challenges, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he rolls under you.

“She wants them to watch, most likely,” Benedict pants, his hands a vice-like grip on your waist as he fucks into you.

When you do not respond they both huff a laugh.

“Your silence says so much,” Anthony remarks and suddenly, your hair is in his fist, the force making your back arch, sliding both of their cocks deeper, your moan unbridled. “Whose good little whore are you?” he demands hotly, a glance of his teeth upon your jaw.

“Yours,” you rasp, eyes fluttering against your blindfold, head tilted to the carriage ceiling, feeling the burn on your scalp, your nipples pebbled hard against the rough rasp of Benedict's jacket lapel.

“Then repeat it,” Benedict bites out, his mouth sucking harshly upon your shoulder, leaving his mark, a darkened patch you know he will have you look at in the mirror in the coming days.

“I’m your good little whore,” you echo breathily, for them both, the degrading words ratcheting you higher.

They both groan at your utterance, their hands becoming a more urgent hold. Fingertips grazing and tweaking your nipples, you know not whose. Teetering so close, you beg. Beg them to go faster, to touch your clit, to hold you down, be rough, do anything to make this fever upon your skin, buzzing in your mind, break over you, release you from this prolonged heightened state, leaking profusely around their cocks, slack-jawed, strung out with need.

When a hand worms between your bodies, snagging against your clit, you convulse around them, both groaning at the restriction, curse words falling from them in harsh pants as finally you reach the peak you have been seeking forever. One flick of a thumb, and you are gone.

The intensity of your orgasm is breathtaking: transported and hurtled into the skies far above, your whole pelvis contracting and rippling around both of them as they cry out as your vice-like grip. Static buzzing in your skull as they seem to sandwich into you even harder, your lungs gasping for air as your body feels rearranged, your mind floating on a sea of bliss as their movements become harsher, more desperate, you pulling them over the edge with you. Benedict withdraws suddenly, a warmth splashing upon your lower belly as Anthony growls hard under you, feeling the ripple of his cock as he releases inside your bottom.

For a few moments, it’s just panted breaths, all slumped together in a damp pile. Exchanging sated smiles as they tenderly unwrap the cravat from around your eyes and wrists, delicately kissing your skin as you rearrange. Playtime over, back to yourselves, a shared affection between that is undeniable now.

“How much longer until we reach your country home?” you ask as you curl up into their joint embrace, hands caressing your skin in soothing swirling patterns, a languorous pull in your bones now that you are finally satiated. A flickering glow behind your ribs at the idea this is just the start of something new with your boys.

“I have absolutely no clue, my darling,” Anthony confesses with a carefree bubble of laughter, “and I do not particularly care as long as you are in our arms, right brother?” he adds, tilting his head leisurely towards Benedict.

“Absolutely,” Benedict concurs, “If only all carriage rides were this stimulating…” he jests wistfully.

“They could be… if you always take me with you,” you breeze, giving him a chaste kiss.

“We shall never travel again without you,” Anthony attests over a stifled yawn, his stubble abrading your collarbone as he burrows his head into your neck and sighs contentedly.

And that is how you all finally rest, a tangled pile of limbs, your naked body warmed by their tight hold as the carriage whisks you through the countryside under a blanket of stars.

Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @kisskissshutmydoor @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies

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sooshihu · 27 days

Text

charles leclerc x reader ~ instagram au

prompt: the great looking driver we all know and love creates controversy with his new and surprisingly young girlfriend

warnings: age gap

january 5 2024

yourusername shared a story

yourbestfriend liked your story

user liked your story

charles_leclerc started following you

charles_leclerc liked your story

user liked your story

wagsf1

liked by user, user and others

wagsf1 !charles leclerc has been spotted with an unknown girl outside of a club in monaco!

after this picture was taken he allegedly drove off in his new ferrari with the girl

comments

user she does look like his type that’s for sure

user YALL I FOUND HER SHE LITERALLY JUST TURNED 18 LAST NIGHT

user im sorry WHAT

user mr leclerc going younger and younger i see

user didn’t he like break up with his girlfriend like 3 weeks ago?😭

user our fav walking red flag🥰

user oh to be her…

and 457 more

february 2 2024

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername 💦☀️🌊🤍

comments

yourbestfriend 😍

user @charles_leclerc mr hitting on fresh 18s that you?🥰

user that’s deff charles’ yacht

user my guess is she’s going after his money to pay off those student loans

yourusername how did you know🤭

and 54 more

f1gossip

liked by user, user and others

f1gossip charles leclerc with his supposed new and very young girlfriend😉 let us know your view on this couple!

comments

user still think she’s after the money

user why you all hating we don’t know anything about her yet💀

user fr like calm down😭

user she can’t be mature enough for him she’s just a kid

user he wouldn’t be with her if she wasn’t

user i saw her instagram she doesn’t look like the bitch yall make her out to be just saying

and 374 more

april 2 2024

yourusername added a story

charles_leclerc liked your story

charles_leclerc replied to your story:

je t'aime, magnifique❤️ (i love you, gorgeous)

april 25 2024

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and others

yourusername joy of missing out 🤍 enjoy the little moments you share with only yourself

comments

charles_leclerc 🤍

user it’s over he commented a heart on her post they’re offcial😔

user am i the only one who LOVES her vibe?😍

user deff not! she seems like a very nice and humble person to me i don’t know why she was getting so much hate

user “she’s just 18 blah blah blah” it’s not your relationship leave her alone

yourusername i love you

user the age gap is kinda wild tho

user hair care routine??

may 3 2024

charles_leclerc added a story

user liked your story

yourusername replied to your story: ❤️

yourusername replied to your story: ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername added a story

may 19 2024

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername haters be hating because they don’t wake up next to charles leclerc like i do

comments

user WERE YOU SILENT OR SILENCED DEAR HATERS

charles_leclerc wouldn’t want it any other way🤭

user THE CAPTION SHUT UP I LOVE HER

user do you see his smile? and yall still think she can’t make him happy cause she’s ‘too young’💀

user Something About You - Eyedress, Dent May ~ 0:44

user the amount of things i’d do to wake up next to either of them is concerning

user every book girlie dreaming about their age gap trope

and 487 others

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc she’s gotta pay off those student loans somehow, am i right?

(last pic is me proudly taking all of the pics above)

comments

user charles simping for yn is so real omg

user love how they’re making fun of the gold digger rumours😭

user charles.jpg when?

user i just know it would be full of yn pls

scuderiaferrari after the loans are payed off we suggest buying her a ferrari of her own 👀

user the unseriousness of their hard launch captions are highlights of my day

user she’s living our dream fr

user can’t decide if i wanna be him or her

and 1,592 others

#Spotify #charles leclerc #f1 #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x reader #x reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 #cl16 x you #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #fem reader #reader insert

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upsidedownmvnson · 1 year

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eddie's little somethings

aka some of the ways eddie shows you he loves you

he is your personal driver: even when you don't ask, he shows up after your shift to drive you home whenever he can, brings you to and from school, and never wants to let you drive. he just loves how you look in the passenger seat, window open, hair flying everywhere. he can put his hand on your thigh. his perfect little passenger princess <3

he wants you around 24/7, just sitting beside him, even if you're doing your own thing. especially when he's dm'img at hellfire, sometimes you'd just read a book beside him, if you weren't involved in that particular campaign

he's actually a big fan of pda, he loves causing a scene, and he loves showing everyone that you're all his. so what better way than making out with you against a locker, or keeping his arm around you for the entire lunch period. if you share a class, he'll sit beside you and have his hand on your thigh the whole time. more comforting than sexual.

one of the rare occurrences that eddie cancelled hellfire was because you had a terrible day, and you just wanted to go home instead of hangout with the party, so he cancelled it and took you home, even when you insisted he could just come over after.

eddie kisses every inch of you like he's looking for a secret. he makes sure you know he thinks every inch of you is perfect. from love bites on your thigh, to kisses behind your ear, up and down arms and legs, all over your back while he gives you a massage omfg (i'm writing smut based off of this, stay tuned)

one time he asked you if you would be comfortable with him looking at porn "not because i want to right now, but like, don't wanna cause an issue later, yaknow babe?" and you thought that was very mature

when he's meant to give you gift (birthdays/holidays etc) he prefers to make something. one time he recorded two cassettes of himself playing all your favourite songs, one slow, instrumental & acoustic for studying, and one how they were meant to be sang for jamming. he's also made a popsicle stick diorama of your childhood tree fort that was torn down, and a DnD campaign on your birthday based on your favourite fantasy movie (wrote a follow up to this point: here)

he likes to bring you a little treat. when hes on his way over he'll often stop to grab a cookie, or a smoothie. just something nice for him to give you. he likes to do anything to make you smile

he makes a huge effort to partake in your interests and hobbies, and makes sure not to accidentally dominate your shared time with his band, and his club. he wanted to make sure the attention was split between you, a healthy balance for a healthy relationship <3

he dedicates a song to you at every single gig, as if it's not the same crowd every time. but he doesn't care, he's just happy you're still excited to see his shows

eddie always asks for your opinion on everything, and while it's not always what he wants, he always takes yours into account, and if it's something you two have to decide together, he wouldn't stop trying to figure out a perfect compromise.

he loves to feel skin on skin contact. when you guys are just hanging out, he always finds some way to get his hand on your skin, whether it's your thigh, or rubbing your back, or just holding your hand. he likes the comfort of you nearby. but in bed, he likes to press his chest into yours during missionary, wrapping up your legs together and coddling your head in his arms, laying as flushed against you as he possibly could

eddie also just straight up says "i love you" like a million times a day

i am going to write 1000000 more eddie headcanons so feel free to request

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things

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chrisdr3 · 24 days

Text

Anger, gone ~ MV1

Angst then smut

Summary: Max finds a better way to to calm his anger than the previous one, and it's focused on Y/n.

Angry!Max x Reader

Max was known for his dominance in F1, and his non-stop wins were angering many fans of the sport. He was called "Mad Max" because of his viciousness on the track, like the lion on top of his helmet. But, there was another thing that was making him vicious and unstoppable: his anger.

He was calm and collected in his everyday life, but when he was getting in his car, he let his anger lead his actions sometimes. In his earlier years in F1 it was worse. However, now, having 3 WDC's in his back for 3 consecutive years, he has matured enough to not get angry easily, but when he did, he was furious, feared sometimes, and no one could calm him down.

Except from you. It was like you were magic. You took his anger away even if you did the least thing possible. Your favourite way of calming him down was to step on the shower with him and then go to bed cuddling, seeking eachothers warmth under the covers.

There were some incredibly rare cases that it didn't work. Sometimes he was ignoring you, sitting alone outside with a bottle of whiskey, not giving a fuck if it was raining or cold. He was spending these nights like this and was joining you early in the morning in bed, smelling like alcohol.

The Australian GP was one of these rare times. Having to retire in lap 5 due to his brakes catching fire, it made him furious with everyone in the team. Christian and GP tried to calm him down but failed, persuading him to stay and watch the rest of the race . You didn't talk to him throughout the rest of the race, afraid he'll snap at you.

Meanwhile, Max was angry at the team for the brakes failing him, angry he couldn't continue in the race, and a bit disappointed with himself, seeing you sit away from him, clearly sad and afraid of his outbursts. When the race ended, he took the stuff of you both from his driver's room, grabbed your hand and left, taking you with him.

The car ride to the hotel was quick, the tension being nearly touchable in the air. Nax had his hand in the inside of your thigh, gripping it tightly whilst speeding to your hotel. Neither of you spoke, his anger getting the best of him, and you, watching out the window, too stunned to speak.

You got in the hotel and you sat in the bed, opening your phone and scrolling through Instagram, supposing he would shower, grab a bottle of whiskey and go outside. That's what you thought, tho, seeing him go to the bathroom, not saying a word.

You were really distracted by your phone and didn't notice him getting out, untill a hand took your phone and left it to the coffee table and pushed you back in the bed, pulling your shorts down. He held your hands above your head and took off your crop top. "You're gonna be a good girl and let me get my anger away, understood?" He growled in your ear. "Y-yes..." You stuttered as he unhooked and took of your bra with one hand. (Credit to @ashmakopoulou for the bra thingy)

He let the towel in his waist fall down as he squeezed and kissed your nipples, leaving dark hickeys and bite marks on them. You let out a breathy moan and he bit your nipple. "Shut your pretty mouth, babygirl." You didn't make any more sounds and let him continue. He continued kissing your body, whilst holding your hands still above your head. He kissed your torso, stomach and waist and then he took off yor panties, practically ripping them in half.

You squirmed as the cold air hit your throbbing cunt and tried to hold back a moan when Max pressed one finger on your clit. "I'm gonna ruin this little pussy tonight." He growled. The next moment his finger entered your hole and he started moving it fast and hard. You tried muffling your moans, but the pressure on your clit and his fingers thrusting in you combined made you come on his hand with a loud groan.

He licked his fingers clean with a groan and continued teasing you, this time using the tip of his dick. It was rock hard and standing straight, veins being visible on it's sides. He was running it up and down your slit, collecting your wetness. A loud moan escaped your lips as he pushed in hard without any warnings. He then tied your wrists to the headboard with a belt, using his free hand to grab your waist. He thrusted in really hard, making you hiss at the painful feeling.

He stayed still for a bit, biting your stomach gently and then, after he was sure you were okay, he continued thrusting fast and hard, hitting your g-spot mercilessly, his pace bruising. You were rapidly becoming a sweaty, moaning mess when his fingers reached your clit and started toying with it.

His hard thrusts and his fingers on your clit combined made you come undone again. He didn't pull back or take his dick out, thrusting harder instead, making you reach your third climax for the night.

He then pulled out and came on your stomach, then laid down between your legs, making it seem like he's done. You were laying down in a post-orgasmic state, your body relaxing from the tiredness and tension, your breathing and heartbeat calming down.

You had completely calmed down when you felt Max's tongue in your pussy, licking you up and down. You raised your head as much as you could and saw Max's face buried in-between your lehs, licking you.

"Such a sweet pussy, babygirl." Max growled, groaning at your sweetness. Then he lowered his head and continued to eat you out. You were becoming needier and needier as he teased you with his tongue, and you tried pulling your hands out of the belt, hoping you could free them from the headboard. You wanted to push Max's head in your pussy with your hands, but when he noticed he made the belt tighter.

He then started eating your pussy and sucking on your clit like he was a starved man eating food after weeks, overwhelming you with pleasure and slowly building up another orgasm. You squirmed when you felt his fingers get inside you, rubbing your g-spot.

Your breath became faster and heavier. You started to moan and groan uncontrollably, so Max muffled you with his free hand, still fingering you brutally. Soon, the familiar knot formed on your stomach and you came undone, filling his face and hand with your juices.

Max then licked his fingers, got to the bathroom to clean himself and came back with a warm cloth. He released your hands and kissed your bruised wrists. "You were so good for me princess, thank you." He whispered, cleaning you up entirely and then hugging your exhausted body. You both fell asleep naked, cuddling, his anger completely gone.

Taglist: @norizz-nation @changetyre @dilemmaontwolegs @thef1diary

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen f1

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sunkissed-zegras · 3 months

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐬) | nh¹³

౨ৎ ─ summary | you and nico have only been dating for 6 months but both of you are convinced you've found the one, and a certain theory proves you right.

─ word count | 2k

─ warnings | mention of doubt in relationships (not you and nico's ofc) and slight angst when it comes to ex's, BUT OTHER THAN THAT, tooth-rotting fluff u might just get diabetes 🥹

─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke

─ ev's notes | i know this is SOOOO short but i still hope y'all enjoy! i love nico sm :( hes adorable :(((

You and Nico had been dating for almost 6 months and it has been nothing less of perfection, you'd never thought you'd meet someone who fit every single one of your boxes. He was handsome, tall but also very sweet, empathetic and mature. Before Nico, you had only dated self-involved assholes who only cared about their wants and needs.

Now, with Nico, everything felt different. He listened to you attentively, remembered all the little details you shared, and always made an effort to understand your perspective. His presence was calming, always making sure you were okay and somehow always knowing if you weren't, even if you insisted you were. Everything with Nico was effortless, you didn't have to try - you just knew.

Despite the love that enveloped your relationship, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of doubt that occasionally crept into your mind. It wasn't about Nico himself - he was everything you had ever wanted and more - but rather a lingering fear that somehow, someday, it might all come crashing down. Maybe it was the scars left behind by past boyfriends, the ghost of heartbreaks past whispering cautionary tales in your ear. Or maybe it was simply the vulnerability that comes with opening your heart to another person so completely, knowing that the possibility of pain exists alongside the promise of love.

Yet, with each passing day, Nico continued to prove himself worthy of your trust, erasing any doubts with his unwavering love. He showed you, time and time again, that he was different; that he was here to stay.

"And then I looked inside of the car, and it was what looked like a sixteen year old." Nico shook his head as he bit into his sandwich. "A sixteen year old with a damn Porsche, can you believe it?"

You chuckled at Nico's story, shaking your head in disbelief. "A sixteen-year-old with a Porsche? That's insane. How did can they even afford it?"

Nico laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I have no idea. Must be nice to have such generous parents. My first car was my dad's old car, it was a really old Toyota Camry." Nico took a bite of sandwich before continuing, "I crashed it 3 times before getting my new car."

"Three times?" you exclaimed, unable to hide your surprise. "And you're still alive to tell the tale?"

Nico chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I wasn't the best driver back then. It's a miracle that Camry held up. I learned my lesson, though. Now I drive like a grandparent."

"Oh, I know." You teased as you finally got your sandwich from the waitress, smiling up at her. "Thank you."

"Can you imagine crashing a Porsche? Imagine how much you'd have to spend fixing it." Nico shook his head as he looked at you.

"Crashing a Porsche? I can't even imagine affording one in the first place, let alone fixing it after a crash. That's a whole different level of stress." You shook your head as you took a bite of your sandwich.

Nico chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Exactly. I'd rather stick to my reliable car. Besides, I've grown attached to it over the years. It's got character."

"Oh no, they put tomatoes in my sandwich." You gagged as you put down your sandwich, sighing.

"Wait, you don't like tomatoes?" Nico looked back at you in disbelief. "How do you not like tomatoes?"

You made a face, scrunching up your nose at the offending tomato slice. "I've just never been a fan. The texture, the taste – it's just not my thing." You began taking the tomatoes out from the sandwich.

Nico laughed, reaching across the table to grab the tomato slice from your plate. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to love tomatoes. Problem solved." He winked, placing the tomato on his own plate.

You laughed along with Nico. "God, they're disgusting."

Nico smirked, his dimple showing as he held up the tomato slice like a trophy. "More for me, then. Tomatoes are so good, especially in a sandwich."

You shook your head, feigning disgust. As you watched him enjoy the tomato slice with happiness, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest. He was so cute. "Well, you can take all the tomatoes you want from me."

Nico grinned, "oh, I will. Don't you worry."

"Oh wait." You watched him eat the tomato. "This is the Olive Theory!"

"What the hell is the Olive Theory?" Nico looked confused as you smiled, excited. "Aren't we talking about tomatoes?" He smiled at your excitement.

You laughed, nodding eagerly. "Yes, yes, but bear with me. So, you know how in 'How I Met Your Mother,' Marshall and Lily have the Olive Theory?"

Nico furrowed his brow, trying to recall. "Vaguely. Something about olives?"

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, delighted that he was playing along. "So, the theory goes that Marshall hates olives, but Lily loves them. Whenever they order food, Marshall always gives his olives to Lily, and it's this little gesture of love and compatibility. The idea is that if one person hates olives and the other loves them, it's a sign of compatibility because it means you complement each other."

Nico's eyes lit up with understanding. "Ohh, I see where you're going with this. So, you hate tomatoes, but I love them. And I happily take them from you. It's like our own little Olive Theory."

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, your heart swelling with affection for him.

Nico couldn't help but smile at you. You were so cute, he couldn't help but laugh at how excited you got. Nico's laughter filled the air, his smile reflecting the warmth in his heart. "You're adorable, you know that?"

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Well, I learned from the best," you teased, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Nico reached across the table, his hand finding yours as he squeezed it gently. "I mean it though, you're amazing. You're adorable when you get all excited about these little things, even if I don't understand half of the references you make."

You chuckled, appreciating his honesty. "Well, that just means we have more opportunities for you to learn and for me to share all my references with you."

Nico's eyes sparkled with affection as he held your gaze. "Yeah and then I can teach you about hockey, it's perfect."

You smiled at Nico's suggestion. "I'd love that! Hockey lessons from the expert himself. Now people won't call me a puck bunny."

Nico grinned, his enthusiasm contagious. "You'll be a pro in no time. Maybe you could even join the team, who knows?"

"Maybe I'll even be captain."

Nico shook his head, "Nah that's kind of my job."

You laughed as you gazed at your boyfriend, a warm smile playing on your face. "Alright, Captain, I'll let you keep the title. But maybe I can be the team's official cheerleader?"

"Well you're already my cheerleader so that wouldn't work very well, would it?" Nico shrugged as you laughed and shook your head.

You couldn't help but laugh at Nico's response. "I guess you're right. Can't double up on roles, can we?"

Nico smirked, "No can do, princess. You're my lucky charm not the team's."

You nodded your head in faux understanding as you played along with Nico's words. "Right, right. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good cus I need my good luck charm." Nico smiled, his eyes warm with affection as he squeezed your hand once again.

"And you'll always be mine." You replied, his words filled you with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and you squeezed his hand gently in return. As you gazed into each other's eyes, you knew that no matter what happens, one thing remained: your love and support.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚#nico hischer imagine #nico hischier smut #nico hischier imagines #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier #nhl imagines #nhl angst #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fic #luke hughes #njd #jack hughes

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cheriladycl01 · 3 months

Note

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where she visit him at the paddock with their children? (He's at Aston Martin) Just something fluff and cute. Thanks!!

Well if it isn't the best Alonso! Fernando Alonso x GreekWife! Reader + Kids

Plot: You come to the paddock for a day, as everyone’s fav Alonso Family Member!

Credit to rb19 for the GIF

“Well If it isn’t the best Alonso” Lance says as you walk into the paddock. You smile at the younger Canadian and pull him into a hug.

“Oh wait, no no no these are the better Alonso’s he grins as he sees your three angels trailing behind you. You had Fernando Jr, who was currently 10. He had of course taken after his father and your husband had taken him karting on his 4th birthday.

Of course they both came back ecstatic, your husband claiming that your son was a prodigy and took all the talent for racing from him. You were happy as he’d explained to you when you first got pregnant that he would be so happy if your kids turned out to like racing and cars as much as he did.

Then there was your daughter, who was currently looking around the garage trying to find the one person she really wanted to see, her name was Iris, taking from your Greek heritage. She was a bundle of joy especially when she came to the paddock. Even at 7 years old she spoke maturely to all the drivers she interacted with, asking them questions about the cars and their lives.

Iris, despite her name was a total Daddy’s girl and would cry when her dad left for races you couldn’t bring them too, and would be elated when he came home. She was glued to his side all the time when he was there with her, which often made her older brother jealous but also got her into karting.

Fernando couldn’t believe his luck when Iris had practically begged him to take her carting with Fernando Jr. He loved watching them race against each other when her brother wasn’t racing in a competition.

Where Iris drove against her older brother she caught up very quickly being a lot better than the kids her age. She wasn’t only a good driver but she was a quick thinker too, something her brother was still learning. They had some heated, yet childish arguments but it wasn’t anything ice cream couldn’t fix.

3 years after you had Iris, you had another child, another girl who Fernando wanted to call Isabella. Bella was now 4 and was shyer than her older siblings and was a total mummy’s girl. She liked princesses and dolls and liked dressing up with her mum watching.

You loved your first two children obviously, but you would never want to take away from the bond they had with their dad. Of course you had your own special bond with them, and they adored you but they clearly had an affiliation with their father because of their love for karting.

So when Isabella started to show signs of loving your hobby or fashion and shopping you were more than excited. You used her a model for your fashion boutique/line that you owned, you were actually a pretty big name in the fashion industry.

You were know as the up and coming Donnatella.

Isabella loved playing with you, and she enjoyed watching her dad… normally form afar. She didn’t like the loud noises that came from the cars when they went 200mph round the tracks.

Fernando was happy you finally had a mini you that you could dress up in all your outfits and style her hair with cute bows unlike Iris who liked her hair accessory free unless it was a hair tie.

You were currently pregnant with yours and your husbands final children which of course happened to be twins.

As you were both getting older, there were more risks with pregnancy and birthing for you. So you agreed that the two little lives growing inside your right now would be your last.

Everyone loved when Fernandos family came to the paddock. You all would what’s bring the best energy with you. Everyone in Aston Martin waited for you to grace them with your baked good that would put the catering staff in all the paddocks hospitality units to shame.

“Hello Lance, how are you!” You exclaim, as you release him from the hug, Bella tugs at the end of your dress looking up at you. You grin and lift the young girl up. You were about 3 months pregnant right now, so still holding your daughter was no issues

“Mum, can we go look for dad please. We want to see his car” Fernando Jr asks, looking at you with his puppy dog eyes. You look away, trying to find someone trust worthy amount the busy mechanics. You spot one of your favourites calling out to him.

“Sorry to be a pain, I know your busy but would you mind taking these too to the garage to find Nando?” You ask and he nods immediately and both your children thank you with big grins before following the mechanic talking his ear off while they do.

“Sorry Lance, that was so rude of me. How are you?” You ask feeling your daughter rest her head on your shoulder, already tired with all the walking and people.

“No it’s no problem. And I’m good, how are you. Fernando told me you were glowing and he was so right” he grins looking at you and then your small little bump that was showing of from the dress you were wearing.

“Stopppppp thank you Lance, me and Fernando actually had a question for you” you grin.

“Go on, I’m scared now!” He says, eyes widening slightly.

“Well, we want you to be the god father to the twins!” You grin smiling. He stands there in shock, not to sure what to say. This was such a big thing.

“Obviously you can say no, but we thought it was fitting where Felipe is Fernando Jr’s god father because he was born in 2013 when he was racing for Ferrari, and then Jenson is Iris God Father as she was born in 2016. And then Bella was born when he had a break because I was struggling a little so my friends were prioritised for Bella. But now that he’s back racing and he has a teammate like you we were wondering if you’d, you know take us up on the offer”

“Oh my god. Of course I will I can’t believe you guys thought of me” Lance says pulling you into another hug.

“You were the first person he suggested” you say, your accent coming out a little more as your voice cracks, you could curse those pregnancy emotions right now.

“Im going to take a walk to the garage. See if Iris has already escaped to go see Jenson and crash one of his interviews again. I swear he doesn’t care that, that kid threatens his job sometimes” you chuckle remember the time she threw a tantrum when Fernando tried to take her away from an interview he was doing with Carlos Sainz and so they let her sit on his lap for the whole interview.

“Okay, ooo wait. Can I have a brownie please?” He asks rubbing his hands together hoping you have your delicious chocolate creations.

“Oh I almost forgot!” You smile handing him two that he happily took, before wondering to go and find Sebastian Vettel to tell him the amazing news.

You walk through the Aston Martin hospitality handing out your treats to anyone who comes up to you with a pleading look on their face before they taste test and pure foodgasms come every time. Bella had slightly perked up and was now more interested that people were talking to her and complimenting her outfit.

You eventually find Fernando and your two other children are already with him. Iris is sat in the car while one for the mechanics is helping your son hold the heavy wheel gun up to the wheel while admin takes lots of pictures.

“Hello hello” you breeze into the room. Your husband comes over to you lifting you up and twirling you going before pulling you into a bruising kiss.

“I missed you” he mumbles looking over you, a hand rubbing over your stomach almost as if to make sure everything is okay with you and the babies.

“I missed you to mi amor” you say in your husbands language.

“I love you αστέρι μου (my star)” he says in Greek. It was a little thing you guys did, to show appreciation for the other.

“Oh and I missed you too, my little Princess” your husband grins looking at your daughter who was jumping at the ball of her feet to get some attention from her father. He lifts her up and spins her around making a melody of giggles sound through the garage.

“Im glad you all came, mi familia” Fernando sighs opening his arms for all the rest of you to join as he pulls you into the hug from his left arm.

“Anything for you” you say, kissing his cheek. He turns to look at you, placing a soft kiss in your lips.

“So is daddy going to win today? Max has been tough this season!” Your daughter admits, crossing her arms, she was obsessed with watching her dads glory days, and coming in to see a Lewis and Max domination was hard. No matter she always cheered on and supported her dad.

“Im going to try my very hardest” Fernando smiles kissing her forehead and all of your heads snap up as your heart the click of a camera.

“Sorry, but you all look so cute” the social media guy said with an awkward blush.

“Oh please please send that to me. I just know your grandmother with love this. She’s been missing you guys, we haven’t seen her since we went her in Greece in the summer break” you say looking down at the kids.

“Can we go back to both Spain and Greece in the summer holiday! Englands getting boring” Fernando Jr jokes, he was the only one born in Spain, after you guys had Iris in Greece and then you moved to the UK so your husband could be closer to the Aston Martin HQ.

“Yes baby, we’ll time it around dads break and your school break. You guys are lucky it’s half term” you nod a them. As serious as they were about karting you also wanted them to have a decent level of education behind them.

“Yes!” The oldest too cheer, before they spot different people they want to go see that send them running off out the garage.

“I could get used to this” Fernando smiles looking down at his daughter in his arms, and placing his other arm to wrap around your waist.

“You know I won’t be able to travel soon, and it’s gonna put a stain on us” you sniffle those silly emotions coming back.

“I know. But I’ve already got a plan, I’ll be coming home more when I can, and I’ll be free when you give birth if not they are happy for me to have a reserve for that weekend” he reassured you.

“What did I ever do to deserve you” you smile, as he wipes away the tears that had started to come down you face. And kisses your cheeks, before laying his head into the crook of your neck.

“I love you”

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fluff #fa14 #fa14 x reader #fa14 imagine

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thewriterwithnoplan · 21 days

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Ferrari's Fairytale (1/3)

Summary: World Championships are the most important part of any Formula One team's history. Except perhaps, Ferrari's. Known for their rabid fans, filthy-rich investors, and pretty boy drivers it shouldn't be a surprise that the team has brought together Soulmates from across the globe. And fate, it seems, is working awfully hard to put all the pieces into place for Ferrari's perfect fairytale - one that's been in the works for decades now.

[Part 1 of Pretty Girls and Ferrari Boys]

Soulmate AU: Soulmates share injuries and pain.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (Eventual)

Word Count: 1650

Warnings: Swearing, no Charles in this first part sorry it's his epic love story and those take time ;)

Masterlist

There was something wrong with your soulmate.

Really there had been something wrong with them since you were eight years old. But right now, there was something particularly wrong with them.

“Just some bruising over the ribcage, but no actual damage internally.” The medic presses a latex covered hand gently against your ribs.

“They feel broken.” You suck in a pained breath and glare over her shoulder, at the little framed picture of her cat, Terror, on her desk. “You’re sure I’m not about to sneeze and puncture a lung?”

“Funny.” Though the look she gives you as she pulls off her gloves is less than amused. “Which one of us went to medical school again?”

“My best friend. You might know her. She’s stunning, generous, gives me free check-ups, did I say stunning? Goes by Sunny.”

“It’s Doctor Sunny to you.” She slingshots one of the gloves at you. “But it’s good to know you only keep me around for the free check-ups.”

“My soulmate would bankrupt me without you.”

Sunny taps at her computer, “The fee isn’t that high.”

“Sure,” You shrug. “If you aren’t in here every other week.”

“Have we ruled out hitman as their profession?”

“Since we were eight?”

“I don’t know much about hitmen, maybe they start them young.”

You lower yourself carefully from the observation table and move stiffly toward her desk. “Give it to me straight Doc. How much longer have I got?”

“I’m afraid you’ll live, ma’am.” Sunny doesn’t even look up. “A tragedy for all, I know. I can give you a moment if you need time to process– Ow! Bitch.”

She rubs at her shoulder and huffs.

“I’m going to have to log that in the database, you know.” She says.

“Good, maybe we can both find our soulmates and be done with it all.”

“Real romantic, dude.”

“Your soulmate hasn’t been terrorising you since you were a kid.”

“I had my fair share of scraped knees,” Sunny wrinkles her nose when you stick your tongue out. “You do know it won’t stop after the two of you meet, right? That’s a schoolyard myth.”

“After the talking to I’m going to give him, you bet your perky ass it’s going to stop.”

“That’s the second instance of workplace harassment I’ve coped from you in the last minute.”

“Fine. Your ass is not perky.”

“Mature.” She hums, “What time did you say the pain started?”

“Ten-thirty-ish?”

“All good then.” Sunny makes a few more clicks before powering down her computer. “Your chest and my arm, all nice and logged.”

“You know, sometimes I think you became a Match Medic specifically so you could put every little thing into the database to make it easier to find your soulmate.”

“Perks of the job.” She scoops up her handbag. “Come on, let’s bounce before the front desk starts scheduling over my lunch break.”

“You remember how I said you were stunning and generous and stunning?”

“I’m not buying you lunch.”

“Could this week get any worse?” You throw your head back dramatically.

Sunny cracks a smile at your antics, “Only a few more hours and we’re free for the weekend.”

“Are we still on for pamper-night tonight?”

“Always. Mine or yours?”

You end up spending the night in Sunny’s apartment, covered in different rejuvenating oils and masks until you look like low-budget horror movie villains. In your fluffy robes with The Princess Bride on in the background Sunny tries to teach you how to make Hainanese Chicken the way her mother did. Terror cries at your feet when you tell him he can’t have raw chicken. Sunny pops a bottle of cheap champagne that makes you both grimace and promise one another that you would find an excuse to get a nicer bottle soon. You take turns washing the excess from the face, foot, and hair masks off. Then curl up together on the couch, sipping broth, digging into rice and slathering chicken in Sunny’s family’s super-secret chilli sauce. You both fall asleep at a very respectable eleven o’clock.

So, it’s fucking strange when you wake up feeling like you had spent the night inside a paint mixer.

“Are you okay?” Sunny frowns as she stands over a pan of eggs. “You look ill.”

You squint over your coffee cup, “Soulmate is playing up.”

She plates the eggs next to a small stack of bacon before turning to put a hand to your forehead. “They shouldn’t be making you feel sick, illness doesn’t transfer like that. Are you sure it’s coming from them? Could you just be hung over?”

“It’s definitely him, third weekend in a row, like clockwork.” You take your plate gratefully, “It’s like I always tell you. It’s not nausea. It’s more like…”

“Impossible to explain for you and every medical practitioner you’ve ever seen?”

You groan, “It’s like my brain spent the night trying to escape my skull and the muscles in my neck were in on it.”

“It’s not unheard of for soulmates to feel the repercussions of an intense work out. There was this study from four years ago on high performance athletes and their partners that–”

You groan again, “Oh god and now there’s a nerd in my ear!”

She tosses a gelatinous bit of egg onto your plate. It lands with a splat that makes you fake gag. “Oh, grow up.”

“You should be nice to me,” You lament, “I’m wounded!”

“Your soulmate is wounded.”

“And I’m sure their best friend is taking very good care of them!”

She pulls a face at you but still takes your plate to the dishwasher for you. As she’s rinsing them, she asks, “What’s on for the rest of your weekend?”

“I got a call from my parents on Thursday and guess what?” You sipped at the cold dregs of your coffee, “The dentist finally figured out which one of them the toothache is coming from!”

“That’s great,” Sunny’s smile was genuine. “They’re going in to get it fixed?”

“Tomorrow morning, both going under local anaesthesia.”

You hip checked her lightly out of the way to rinse both your cups. “You want another coffee?”

Sunny propped herself up on the counter, “My caffeine addiction is rubbing off on you I fear.”

“Listen, we have to get through the day somehow.” You coaxed the machine back to life before leaning against the counter to look at Sunny. “Anyway, my parents were supposed to go to this race tomorrow. Dad is particularly devastated and has practically ordered me to represent the family ‘at our home race.’ It’s been tradition for him and mum since they got married. It’s kind of a big deal for him. The man is obsessive.”

“My parents had something similar to say about our family legacy and studying medicine.”

“Speaking of… You remember all the times I sat up with you studying, or brought you food when you forgot to eat, or ran errands for you, or made sure you took breaks, or–”

“Fine, I get it, I’ll go to the stupid race.”

“Oh, how kind of you to offer.” You passed her one of the cups. “It won’t be that bad. Motorsports are supposed to be fun live, right?”

Sunny snorted, “Thank God. Motorsports? I thought you meant like a horse race or a marathon. I was getting war-flashbacks to track-and-field.”

You put a hand to your heart, “You were willing to relive cross country for me?”

“I was willing to ogle fit, sweaty men for you, definitely.”

“Alright, first of all – fuck you. But also same,” You clinked mugs and nodded solemnly at one another, “Maybe we can find some fit, sweaty drivers to ogle instead.”

Sunny hummed, “What do I wear? Is it like sprint cars or more like V8s – ooh is it an illegal drag race?”

“Girl, no.” You swatted at her thigh, “It’s Formula 1, which is perfectly legal and safe and much faster than any of those options.”

“Alright, Miss Daddy’s-Girl, go off.”

“Shut up, I’ve had to hear him go on and on about it my whole life.” You pulled a face at your coffee. “The man has had a hard-on for Ferrari since before he met my mother, and then he met her in the Ferrari hospitality at an F1 race, and he’s fucking worshipped them ever since.”

“Oh my god, why am I only just hearing about this?” She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and cooing. “You’re a little Ferrari baby.”

You blew a rather unladylike raspberry at her and knocked her hand away, “Because it’s embarrassing! Dad was only there because he and his friend won tickets. So, when Ferrari marketing caught wind that soulmates had met in their pavilion, they practically fell over themselves.”

“Holy shit!” Sunny practically howled in delight, “Is that where all those baby pictures of you in little Ferrari onesies came from?”

“Ferrari’s own little fairytale, Mr-won-his-way-in and Miss-heir-to-a-real-estate-monopoly. It's like Romeo and Juliet; if Romeo and Juliet survived, had a kid and decided to make it the poster child of their love story.”

“Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s cute as fuck.” Sunny snatches up your empty cup and stacks it next to hers in the dishwasher.

You frown, “Not everything has to be a love story.”

“I don’t know, girl, I’m pretty sure you just asked me to play out your parents first meeting with you tomorrow.” She winks at you over her shoulder as she heads toward her room.

“Oh, fuck off, Sunny.”

“I think this calls for new outfits!” She emerges from her room, towel over one shoulder. “What was your Mum wearing when she met your dad?”

“We are not reenacting my parents meet-cute.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have your own meet-cute with a certain pain-prone soulmate, hm?” In the moment it takes you to reorientate yourself after her comment, she’s breezing past you with a bright, “I’m having first shower!”

You squark in indignation. Like hell, you’ll let either of those things happen to you this weekend.

(Part 2 : Ferrari's Prince - 03.05.24)

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

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aviscarrentals · 1 month

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some george russell fic recs to binge for my fellow pr63 girlies

blurb/one-shot ♡ series ✩ smau ✧ fluff ୨୧ angst ❈ contains mature content ୭

♡୨୧ give it a year (by @works-of-fanfiction)

✧୨୧ some guy (by @f1version) george x mercedes employee!reader

♡୨୧ set up (by @illicitlimerence-writes) george x driver!reader

♡୨୧ ironic (by @lovelytsunoda) george x fiancee/wife!reader

✧୨୧ get on with the show (by @verstarppen) george x camera operator!reader

✧୨୧ two wheels (by @ladcedes) george x biker!reader

✩୨୧❈୭ a helping hand (by @norrussell) george x childhood bff!reader (it's almost entirely porn LMAO but it's good porn 🤞)

✧୨୧ juniper's dad (by @thatsdemko) george x albon!reader

✧୨୧ old money (by @cutielando)

✧୨୧ rockstar's boyfriend (by @zemradheshpirt) george x rockstar!reader

✧୨୧ dad approved (by @starkwlkr) george x murphy!reader (ft. my fav dilf!)

✧୨୧ girls like me (by @lenoraah) george x heiress!reader

✧୨୧ princess george? (by @starkwlkr) george x disney actress!reader

✧୨୧ and i love her (by @starkwlkr) george x mccartney!reader

✧୨୧ no. 1 fan (by @princepiastri)

✧୨୧ lover (by @princepiastri)

♡✧୨୧ oh so dramatic! (by @duhyork) george x insta crush!reader

♡୨୧ how oblivious, charles! (by @russellsppttemplates) george x leclerc!reader

♡୨୧ kiss her you fool (by @lovings4turn) george x crush!reader

✧୨୧ instagram au (by @lxclerc)

✧୨୧ rainy days in london ( by @libraryofloveletters)

♡୨୧ 3 times toto was oblivious + the 1 time he was surprised (by @itsfeckinwimdy) george x teammate!reader

♡୨୧ i think he knows (by @thatsdemko) george x wolff!reader

♡୨୧ the great christmas light fight (by @lovelytsunoda) newlywed!george x reader (this one's so fucking funny 😭)

♡୨୧ 18 (by @cstads-blog) george x norris!reader

#f1 #formula 1 #george russell #mercedes #george russell x reader #f1 x reader #george russell imagine #f1 imagine #george russell fanfic #f1 fanfic #george russell fic #f1 fic #george russell x you #f1 x you

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fxrmuladaydreams · 8 months

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grown up (pg10)

pierre x leclerc!reader , slight lando x leclerc!reader

summary: you’ve always had a crush on your older brother’s best friend, little do you know he’s crazy about you too

notes: !! contains smut, minors dni !! this trope is too good to not do with pierre, there’s a tiny age gap here (3 years) also i kept pierre in alpha tauri

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of physical violence (not against reader), smut, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving)

Pierre Gasly was a forbidden fruit. As kids he was constantly attached at the hip to your older brother Charles, the two became partners in crime whilst karting together, and had stayed thick as thieves even in Formula One.

You practically watched each other grow up. You were in the stands as he made his way through karting all the way up to Formula One, driving for Toro Rosso, then Red Bull, and now Alpha Tauri.

He was always there with your brother for special events. He watched as you not only got older, but as you matured. He watched as you grew into your figure, curves appearing in all the right places. What was once a little kid, constantly chasing her brother around had turned into a beautiful woman, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Especially not with your overprotective brother keeping you close.

It seemed Charles had also noticed that you’d grown up, or at least noticed all of the new male attention you’ve acquired. He keeps an arm over your shoulders in the paddock, sending a glare to any guys who would give you a once over.

As hard as he tried though, he couldn’t stop you from dating the few guys that had caught your attention as well. Pierre remembers them all.

The first was clearly looking for something casual, the relationship ending with you crying on Charles’ shoulder.

The next was one that ended up cheating on you. You had to make Charles promise that he wasn’t going to try to fight him, but you didn’t have any control over Pierre. You asked him about the bruises on his knuckles when you saw him next, holding his hands in yours and inspecting the damaged skin. He wouldn’t tell a soul but he felt his heart stutter as you held his larger, rougher hands in your small soft ones. When he came out of his you-induced trance, he just shrugged claiming the bruises were from training.

You had actually thought it was going to work out with the most recent one. He was sweet, he was loyal, the only issue was he was going off to university while you were traveling with Charles. The long distance made it difficult, the two of you had a mutual break up because of it.

Pierre hated that he had to watch you date all of these guys that just seemed either incompatible with you or just took advantage of you. Or both. And he was forced to watch from the sidelines.

It was time for the Monaco Grand Prix, which meant that it was the one time of year you didn’t have to travel anywhere. Charles had opted to forgo the hotel that was offered, instead choosing to stay home with you. He invited Pierre to stay with the two of you as well, offering his best friend the spare guest room.

It was strange having Pierre so close to you at first. You would bump into him on your way to the bathroom, make your breakfast together in the kitchen, share a car to and from the track. You quickly became used to having his presence around though, enjoying the shared breakfasts, and midnight chats in the kitchen.

The race had ended with both boys in the points, though neither on the podium. You all went out to celebrate though, the three of you and most of the other drivers with their girlfriends.

Pierre spent the night watching you from afar, dancing with Lily, then with Carmen, then back to Lily. The drink in your hand sloshing around in the glass as you danced. He was happy to watch you dance with the girls, a bright smile on your face as you twirled around with them. It wasn’t until he saw Lando reach for you that he started to feel uncomfortable.

Lando was behind you, his hands on your hips, far too close for Pierre’s liking. It was then that he came to the conclusion that your dress was far too short. It showed too much of your legs. And the neckline was far too low, giving Lando a perfect view of your chest over your shoulder.

Your hand reached up behind you to tangle itself in Lando’s curls, and Pierre thought he might actually commit a crime.

He glances over at Charles who seems distracted, busy conversing or more so listening to Max. When he turns back to look at you, you’ve turned around, now facing Lando as you dance together.

Your hands are pressed against his chest while his are resting on your hips. Your foreheads are pressed together. You catch Lando’s eyes glancing down at your lips. He leans forward, and you let him, closing your eyes.

You can feel his lips brush against yours when you’re suddenly pulled away from him. Pierre’s got a hand on your arm, and a scowl on his face as he practically glares at Lando.

“We’re going home.” He says, before pulling you to the exit, his hand slips down to grasp yours.

“What about Charles?” You ask as you weave through groups of people in an attempt to keep up with Pierre’s quick steps.

“I told him you weren’t feeling well.” He answers, still pulling you along to his car outside.

The ride back to yours and Charles’ Monaco apartment is quiet. Pierre’s got a tight grip on the steering wheel as he keeps his eyes locked ahead. You pout quietly in the passenger seat, occasionally sparing a glance at the Frenchman beside you.

You follow him back upstairs to the apartment where he waits for you to unlock the door. Once inside he brushes past you and throws his coat on the couch. He walks to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water pushing it into your hands.

“Drink it.” He says, pulling one out for himself as well.

“I’m not drunk.” You quietly tell him as you unscrew the cap.

He scoffs. “You were drunk enough to think that grinding against Lando was a good idea.”

A smirk grows on your face. You take slow steps towards him. “Are you jealous Pierre?”

“Why would I be jealous? You’re just a kid.” He’s quick to snap.

His answer strikes a nerve, but you persist. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Lando is closer to may age. Just a year younger than me. Maybe I should give him a call, finish what we started.”

His lips are on yours within a second. The kiss is hungry, fueled with fire and the need to finally express the feelings you’ve both had for so long. He pushes you up against the kitchen counter, slotting a leg between yours.

You whimper into the kiss as his leg pushes against your center, your dress sliding up and revealing more skin to him.

Your hands find his hair as his find the bottom of your dress. His fingers trail up your legs to toy with the waistband of your panties.

“Bedroom.” You manage to breathe out in between kisses.

He lifts you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist and walks you both to your bedroom. You can feel the tent growing in his pants as he pushes himself against you.

He kicks the door shut behind him, and drops you on your bed. Clothes are torn off the two of you, thrown to different corners of the room until you’re both just in your underwear.

He dives down to kiss you again, laying between your legs. One of his hands strokes the skin of your thigh, pulling it around him.

You continue to kiss each other, your tongues seemingly dance with each other as he softly starts to thrust his hips against yours. His kisses travel down your neck to your collarbone. He reaches a hand behind you and unlatches your bra, throwing it somewhere behind him.

He brushes a hand over one of your breasts, his fingers softly grazing your nipple. He leans down to kiss along your chest, his teeth marking up your skin as he goes.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit, huh?” He murmurs as he pays equal attention to both breasts.

“I’m not a little kid Pierre.” You roll your eyes at him, but let out a soft moan as he lets his teeth bite softly at one of your nipples.

“That’s for sure.” He says, continuing his journey down your body.

Once again his fingers fiddle with the waistband of your panties. He uses his arms to spread your legs for him, giving him a perfect view of the wet patch that’s grown on your underwear.

“So wet for me chéri?” He presses his fingers against the wet fabric, teasing you through your underwear.

“Should we talk about the tent you’ve got?” You lightly kick his back.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Alright, alright.” His hands move back to the top of your underwear but pause. He looks back up at your face. “Are you sure you want this?”

You do want this, you know you want this. But part of you can’t help but think of your brother, or Pierre’s best friend. This could make things messy for everyone, that is if Charles doesn’t murder Pierre.

You look back down at the man between your legs. Sincerity swims around in the green eyes that stare back at you. You know he’ll back off if you tell him no. That this can all fade away, never to be mentioned again. Or you can grab onto this moment and not let it go, throw caution to the wind.

You nod and give him a soft smile. “I’m sure.”

He returns his own smile, then slowly peels your panties off of you. He tosses them near the pile of his clothes. “I’m keeping those.” He gives your thigh a kiss.

You let out a sigh as his fingers stroke your folds. The sigh turns into a whimper when he lightly taps against your clit.

“So sensitive ma chéri.” He smirks.

He slowly pushes his middle finger into you, pressing against your walls. Your thighs tighten around him as he works his finger in and out of you, then adds another.

You moan out his name as he starts to press against the spongey spot inside you.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He climbs back up your body to kiss you again, stealing your moans from your mouth.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. You push against his chest so he’s looking at you.

“Pierre, I need you inside me.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and raises them to his mouth, sucking your wetness off of them.

“You taste so good chéri.” He practically moans.

You reach out to pull his boxers down. His cock slaps his abdomen as he kicks his underwear away.

You can see the bead of precum that’s gathered on his tip. You spread it over him with a finger, then pump his cock a few times.

Pierre’s eyes roll to the back of his head. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.” He groans.

You lay back down, pulling him down with you. He looks down between the two of you and holds his cock at your entrance. He looks back up at you, silently asking one more time if you’re sure you want this with him. You nod and wrap your arms around his neck.

He notches the head of his cock in you, then slowly pushes himself in. You take a few deep breathes, closing your eyes.

The stretch to fit him is a lot. It didn’t hurt, but his size was more than you were used to accommodating.

When he finally bottoms out, he pauses, giving you a moment. He rests his forehead against yours, pressing soft kisses against your face as you get used to his size.

“You can move.” You murmur.

He pulls himself away then pushes himself back in, creating a rhythm for the two of you.

He’s going slow, too slow. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper inside you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, and so warm.” He moans, his head falling down to your shoulder as his thrusts speed up.

He nips at your shoulder, his teeth creating small dents in the skin.

As his thrusts speed up you can feel him get deeper and deeper until the head of his cock hits the perfect place inside you. You yelp as you clench around him even tighter.

“You feel so good Pierre. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You moan.

He reaches a hand down between you to rub at your clit, quickly sending you over the edge.

Your release triggers his, his cum coating your walls as he drags your orgasms out.

You’re both breathing heavily when you’re finished, clinging onto each other like a lifeline. You unwrap your legs from around him, the muscles tense from your activities.

He softly pulls out of you, causing you to whimper at the now empty feeling between your legs. His cock is soft now, the base coated in a creamy looking white substance, a mix of your releases.

He get up off the bed and goes to your bathroom, when he returns he’s holding a wash cloth in his hand. He cleans you up, apologizing when you wince from the sensitivity.

He goes back to the bathroom to dispose of the wash cloth, then comes back and gets back in bed with you.

He pulls you to his chest and sighs, staring up at your ceiling. Your fingers fiddle with his as you lay in silence.

You sigh. “We’re going to have to talk about this.” You break the silence.

“I know.” He says, pulling you closer to him. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Right now I just want to enjoy holding you in my arms.”

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to fall asleep, letting the worries of your relationship status fade away for the night.

When you wake up Pierre’s got a tight hold on you. His face is buried in your neck, his arms locked around your torso.

You watch as he sleeps, his soft snores coming out in rhythmic beats. You lift a hand to softly run through his hair, the golden brown strands are soft between your fingers. Your hand traces down his face, over his cheekbone, then to his lips.

His breath hitches as his eyes flutter open. A lazy smile grows on his face as he looks at you.

“Good morning ma chéri.” His voice is deep with sleep.

“Good morning Pierre.” You smile.

As much as you want to bask in the energy of an early morning cuddle session with Pierre, you know you need to talk about last night, about what last night means to you now.

“So…” You trail off.

“So?” He asks, nudging your jaw with his nose, clearly looking for some affection from you.

“So, are we going to talk about last night?” You’re scared of what he’ll say, but you know this is a discussion you need to have.

“Last night was fun.”

Your heart drops. Last night was fun? That’s all he has to say?

“Pierre-”

“I meant what I said. About wanting to do that for so long.” He kisses down your neck, his eyes finding the light purple marks he left along your skin the previous night.

You lift his chin so he’s looking into your eyes again.

“Was that just a one time thing? Because I don’t think I can do this if it was Pierre. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, but I don’t want to give you my heart if you’re just going to break it.”

His eyebrows furrow. How could you possibly think he would break your heart?

“No mon amour, no.” He cups your face in his hands. “I have been in love with you since we were kids, since Charles introduced us. I know that it’s going to be hard working this out with your brother, but I’d like to, if you’ll have me.”

You grin, rolling on top of him and cover his faces in kisses.

You moment of joy is cut short when you hear a knocking on your door.

“Y/n?” Charles’ voice calls from the other side.

The door starts to open as you roughly push Pierre under your bedsheets.

“I’m changing!” You shout at your brother.

Charles freezes, leaving the door only cracked open.

Pierre sighs, running his hand up and down your leg. An idea comes to him, an evil, risky idea. He crawls further down, and throws your legs over his shoulders. He licks a long stripe through your folds, grinning when he hears you gasp and feels a hand grip his hair.

“Pierre said you weren’t feeling well, how are you feeling now?” Charles asks through the door.

Your eyes roll back as Pierre sucks your clit into his mouth, toying with the little bundle of nerves.

“Y/n?”

“Good! Good, I feel good.” You hope your words don’t sound like a moan.

“Alright, well I’m going to go get some breakfast, would you like to join me?” Charles asks.

“No, no. You go. I’ll stay.” You manage to get out.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” He closes your door again, you can hear his footsteps disappear in the apartment.

You give Pierre’s back a harsh kick, to which he groans, then crawls up out from under the sheets.

“That hurt!” He groans.

“Well I don’t think eating me out in front of my brother is a good way to get him onboard with our relationship.” You scoff.

“So we’re in a relationship now? Officially? You’re asking me to be your boyfriend?” He smirks, wrapping himself around you again.

“I hate you.” You say, but you can’t stop the smile from spreading on your face.

“I love you too.”

#pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly #formula one x reader #pg10 #pierre gasly smut

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urf1lterr · 1 year

Text

afterglow | pedro pascal [1/3]

"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"

summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature

word count: 6.8k

status: 1/3 complete

author's note: i actually started this weeks ago but never had the chance to finish. hope you guys like this short one shot even though its gonna be two parts lol. not edited.

"Quick! Spray her hair some more! We need to make sure there's no flyaways," your manager demanded to your assistant, handing over a large can of hairspray.

Objecting, you swat it away making her gasp. "Too much will make me look greasy."

Here you were, all dressed up in your tight corset red dress in the back of some SUV one of your assistant's ordered being a nervous wreck.

If it wasn't for the two shots you had taken before, you were sure you would have fainted right about now. It was your first time attending the notable award show nominated.

And alone.

You did attend the past two years; however, you always had your boyfriend near from a distance as you walked down the red carpet and participated in interviews.

Well, ex boyfriend. But that's irrelevant now.

Of course you knew your team would be three steps behind you majority of the time, but it wasn't going to be the same knowing you had to sit alone for most of the show, especially since you were nominated.

Not that you knew you would win, you were up against women who dominated the screen year after year while you recently got your first big lead after so many years. But it was indeed a huge honor to even come to this point as you knew this might never happen again.

Pulling up to the main entrance, you could hear how loud the fans and paparazzi were through the thick, tinted windows. Your driver quickly jumped out of the car before rounding his way to yours, swiftly opening it, the chilly air instantly making you shiver.

Gulping, you try to hide any signs of fear in your body by smiling widely and immediately directing waves and bows to the crowd as your manager was right behind your ear, constantly informing you on how quicker you needed to be.

You were finally able to get rid of her when another worker offered their hand to you, ushering you to the main carpet for your pictures.

Taking a deep breathe, you are instantly dragged to a spot to start your first poses, doing the same angles- hands on hip and shifting of head- which the paparazzi demanded you do, as you followed down the long path.

Already in the middle of the walkway, you move your arms behind your back as you send a warm smile before hearing another roar from fans. Glancing to your side, you fight the urge to scoff knowing damn well you'd wake up to news outlet making headlines over it.

You just found it incredibly annoying the massive attention being displayed over nothing.

It just so happened that your infuriating ex thought it would be a brilliant idea to make his mark on the carpet right after you. Mentally sighing, you tried finding other things to plant in your head to stop you from cursing him out.

You were not going to let him get to you, especially not on your special night.

Once you came down the end of the road, you were met with your team again before being thrown into a line for interviews.

"If it makes you feel any better," you heard your assistant move up to your ear, whispering as you were neatly fixing the large necklace draped around your neck. "He was totally checking you out."

Backing your head away from hers, you give you a gross look as she shrugged. "Don't make me barf before the show even starts."

One thing about you assistant, she's been with you since the very beginning. From your first agency, she had been assigned to you until she was forced to cease the partnership as you changed companies. So she did that, but with her original company and took the move with you.

She says it's because that's what friends do, you think it's because of the increase in pay.

Since following you around for years, she witnessed all the shy, awkward, romantic, and crying stages of majority of your relationships.

Most certainly remembering the last one real well.

Him being your first love didn't make it any better as it led to you breaking down over the silliest things for months when you should've been moving on.

But every time there was a chance it was understandable to mention his name, your assistant wasted no time trying to make him stuck in your head.

Let's just say she believed what you two had was...special.

Blocking out the rest of her remarks, knowing where she was headed, you get called into an interview. Mentally groaning, it was always the same old questions every year that bore you to death.

How are you? Who are you wearing? Are you in a relationship?

You would always reply truthfully until it came to the last part. Your ex didn't mind publicly announcing it, basically pleading for its unveil anytime you two went out.

You on the other hand disagreed. Being a prominent actor himself, you knew the media would slowly take a toll and make your relationship harder.

This theory often left the two of you fighting constantly for many months, committing cruel and nasty jabs to one another before calling your almost three year-old relationship quits.

That was 10 months ago, tonight being the first time you'd be in the same room since screaming unholy words to each other's faces, throwing fragile objects in all directions before he stormed out of your home, never coming back.

Well, you did change all the locks that same night.

But long story short, only family and friends knew about your relationship from start to finish. Fortunately with that, you didn't have to deal with fans freaking out over the two of you being near one another.

Save that for Austin Butler and Vanessa Hudgens.

Forming a proud smirk, you beam back to the interviewer as she pushed a mic up your mouth. "I'm actually seeing someone."

Gasping, the interviewer looked at the camera in shock, trying to keep her audience engaged, before stepping closer. "Who's the lucky man- or woman?! We don't discriminate." You could hear the fans in the back cheering as more celebrities were passing by. "And just how long have you been keeping your lover locked up?"

'Lover', really?

Faking a grin you knew she thought was believable, you wave your hand in front of her. "He's not ready to be discovered quite yet, he's a little shy-," you wink to the camera as she squeals. "-but 9 months next week."

Ending the conversation with her wishing your nomination and 'relationship' the best of luck, you walked off to find your assistant giving you a disappointed look. "What?"

"Why would you do that?"

Shrugging, you move a strand of hair over your shoulder. "It's not that serious, maybe it'll gain me more publicity."

You didn't care for the attention, you just wanted to find a way to prove that you were moving on in life- for your fans at least. Even if it was a lie and you were still the same person you were 10 months ago.

She just stood there, making her silence loud and clear that she was not by the very least happy. Deep down you knew it was a low move to pull, but it's not like you did it in front of your ex.

Maybe the news will spread tomorrow when you don't have to breathe in the same air as him. Better for you, nonetheless.

"I love your dress," you heard someone praise you as you were in search for your seat. Turning, you were met with your familiar red-head friend. "It really compliments your eye look."

Smiling, you bowed to the famous Jessica Chastain, another actress you met a handful of times.

As the two of you reached out to one another a couple of times, you were indeed introduced by your ex as his close friend was actually a lead in a series with her.

"I could say the same for you, that necklace is breathtaking," you gush as she waves off your warm acclaim.

"I see we're sitting next to each other," she grins ear to ear, gesturing towards the seats nearby. "Good, now I won't have to only talk to my husband during the commercial breaks."

That's how the remaining half an hour went by, catching up on one another's life before the lights slightly dimmed, signaling the start of the award show.

Opening with Jimmy Kimmel's monologue, you quietly giggled from all the jokes he presented, especially the one about Pauly Shore you were sure he would take personally.

Towards the end of his act, you notice the act of violence come up, obviously referring to last year's fallout with Chris Rock and Will Smith, before he started acknowledging popular film heroes across the room.

You slightly jump as his first victim was Michael B. Jordan, exposing you and Jessica in the back trying to jump out of from the camera view but poorly failing, making the people near you laugh.

It wasn't even 30 seconds later before you heard the mention of an all too familiar character being called out, your ex boyfriend in his thick black glasses appearing on the big screen while acting tough to the lens.

Oh, how you used to love those glasses.

But you did notice another person making a small presence in the corner, causing you to pause for a moment. You were sure you'd seen this individual walking pass you down the row to his located seat.

Turning your head to see where this stranger was, your eyes instantly locked with the one person you hoped you wouldn't be near. How had you not have known he was literally sitting behind you- well, three people diagonal from you but same thing.

He was still behind you.

What made things worse was the fact his sister was right by his side, sending you a warm smile as you quickly turned your head forward, not daring to move an inch the entire show it if meant you didn't have to face his gaze again.

Continuing your attention on the stage, you didn't notice the set of eyes burning your side. In fact, that spilt second you did notice him, you didn't take account of the way his expression softened in heartfelt- eventually breaking once the swift turn of your discomfort became apparent.

It seemed you truly were disgusted by him.

But once the act was over, you felt Jessica lean over to you. "Definitely rooting for you," she lightly squealed. "If the nerves get to you, hold my hand."

You send her a questionable look. "For what?"

"Your nomination, silly," she giggled as your eyes widened. That was happening now? The memo you were given weeks ago said opposite. "Best Supporting Actress is up next!"

"But I was told it wouldn't be announced till the second hour."

She sends you a uncertain shrug, not sure what to say. There must have been a last minute change to the line up- which was totally fine, but you were not prepared for your nerves to hit.

Exhaling a shaky breath, you rub your hands together as you see the production team walking near the stage for the upcoming selection. You couldn't at least get a commercial break?

As the lights started dimming and the crowed cheered, you could see the two presenters make their way to the middle of the stage before the clips of films played.

Cringing, you jump and quickly close your eyes as you saw yourself on the gigantic screen. It's very weird watching yourself act out a character, which is why you avoid it at all costs.

Especially the crying scenes- you always thought of Kim Kardashian's crying meme whenever your tears were on the screen.

Your ex would say otherwise, constantly praising you every chance he had when you would appear on a film, claiming you had such a passionate aura when you expressed yourself. Often following with his additional, "it's what made me fall in love with you."

Swaying your neck, you try to clear your mind. Fuck your thoughts for daring to think about him in such a crucial moment.

Wishing for time to fly by quicker, you completely zone out as the wait seemed longer than usual. It also didn't help that the camera was zoomed up to your face trying to capture your reaction to this nerve wracking milestone.

You let out a sigh of relief as another actress, Jamie Lee Curtis, was awarded- thrilled that you didn't have to go up and make a dreadful speech that surely wouldn't be planned.

"Why do you seem thankful?"

Turning to Jessica, you send her a chuckle. "I probably would've fallen down the stairs if I did win," you declare as she rolls her eyes. "Plus, the other nominees had more of a lively feel with their roles than me- they deserved it more."

The rest of the show did seem to fly by smoothly. There was the segment where your ex did have to present an award in which you were forced to pull a contented face in case any random camera caught you.

He seemed nervous, but he did do well considering the room was filled with remarkable individuals- it was very intimidating to say the least.

But you weren't ever going to tell him that.

Standing up and patting your dress down, you quickly excuse yourself in search for your assistant during the intermission. You really needed to touch up your makeup and she was the only who had your powder in her bag.

Walking near the side of the stage, you slip through a door and make it to the backstage area where most celebrities' teams were scattered around, trying to be useful and take hundreds of pictures.

"There you are," you smile as you catch a glimpse of her bright red hair from the corner of your eye near a wall. "I really nee- uhm"

You halt as you were met with the same presence of the man who battered your heart and left it to rot months ago. The one who caused the constant breakdowns in your car after every Starbucks run from the frequent trips you two used to share.

The one who left you stranded for his ex.

"Oh, hey!" your assistant beamed while you just gave her an agitated expression, trying your best to stay calm and collected before you became the opposite. "You're not supposed to be here- the show is still go-"

"I need my powder," you grit your teeth, causing her to suck in her lips by your noticeable anger.

Quickly reaching to her bag and unzipping it, you tried ignoring the amused expression your ex was portraying as he leaned up against the wall in hope you would spare him a glance.

You didn't.

Placing the product in your hand, she shakily reaches out to you. "Here, I can take it once you're done w-"

"I'll hold on to it," you dryly cut her off, swiftly turning your back to them before speed walking towards the door you came in from. All you wanted to do now was sit through the remainder of the awards and sleep on the car ride home.

But of course things never went your way.

Hearing loud footsteps of shoes, you feel a gush of wind hit you as a person barged their way in front of you, causing you to stop your movements. "You didn't have to be so harsh on her, you know?"

Holding back your laughter, you mock him. "Harsh? What's so harsh about doing your job?"

He releases a wary look, knowing you would never act like this unless something was bothering you.

Sadly, he knew he was that something- or somebody.

"I was the one who went up to her," he explains, trying to defend her from your future wrath. "She was only kind enough to stay-."

"I don't care what my workers do when I am not around," you cut him off, glaring at him. "Nor you."

With that, you make your exit before he could further justify himself. In reality, you were upset she was talking to him, but you knew he must've started the conversation and could understand why she stayed.

But what really hurt was the fact you knew deep down she believed you were in the wrong as to why you resented him. Maybe the sight of the two of them triggered your feelings, but for a person who's never sat down and heard both stories she was not one to have any say as to how you should feel.

Sitting down on your seat, Jessica sends you a worried look by how fast you strutted back as if you were running away from something- your past. Returning a reassuring one, you steer clear from the body walking through the aisle as they eyed you down, ultimately brushing your backside as they shuffled to their located seat.

Goosebumps arose all over from the split-second contact. For such short contact, it was sure as hell strong as his warmth hit you.

Straightening your posture, you exhale lowly, trying to compose yourself. You don't want anyone thinking you seemed triggered or anxious because you weren't. And you were going to prove it, making it your best interest to stop thinking about all the unnecessary issues in your life and let loose a bit.

And that's exactly what you did.

"I think I broke my toe," you whine, hopping on your right leg as one hand held onto your left ankle. "How am I going to dance now?"

"That's enough shots for you," you heard Florence exclaim, quickly taking the small cup away from your right hand as you huff, trying to fight back.

It was no use, once determined you knew there was no stopping her from doing her thing.

"Give her a bottle of water and she'll come back to life," you heard Shailene suggest as you tried your best to stay balanced.

After the award show you swear you were going to go straight home until a certain somebody caused you to flip your plans around and party.

That somebody being Andrew Garfield.

"Why end all the fun so early?" you hum, finally feeling your feet numb from the pain and standing better. "The party is just starting!"

Swaying your arms crazily as your hips were rocking in all directions, Shailene's laughter fills your ears as you miss Florence's disturbed stare.

Your dancing was not a pretty sight to see.

"It started almost three hours ago!" Shailene called out over the blaring music that was playing on the dance floor. You were sure it was some EDM song until you took a notice of the familiar lyrics.

Instantly freezing, your friends stop in worry as your body movements halt. Slowly pointing your finger up in the air, you gasp. "Is this Ciara?!"

Feeling a body collide with yours, an arm immediately wrapped around your shoulder. "Oh god! I couldn't find the bathroom, they have like 20 rooms here" Andrew complained, out of breath. "I almost pissed myself!"

Florence walked in front of you two, taking his cup away from him as well. "And no more drinking for you, too. Sir."

Weeping and pulling a despairing pout, his shoulders fall. "Aw c'mon, I wasn't even dri- holy shit, is this Ciara?"

Excitedly jumping up and down, you rapidly nod as he cheers along, both of you fan girling to the iconic song choice. Your other friends just stared, not quite sure what your next actions would be.

Pulling away from you and gently pushing people to the side, Andrew began forming a circle as you giggled in your hand by how energetic he was becoming.

The large opening caught the attention of the other attendees who began walking over to see what all the commotion was.

"You're causing so much-"

"Shush! I'm about to do my 1, 2 step!" Andrew placed a hand to Florence's face, ignoring her parenting skills before swinging his body smoothly to the middle of the circle.

'I shake it like Jello, make the boys say hello 'cause they know I'm rockin' the beat'

Cringing hard, your two sober friends began covering their faces as Andrew allowed the dance floor to acknowledge his presence.

Soon enough, the crowd got bigger as guests began vibing to the rhythm, eventually making the space and air around you hotter.

'I know you heard about a lot of great MC's but they aint got nothing one me'

Constantly tripping over your heels, which you knew would reveal fucked up feet tomorrow, you find Florence and leap to her side, watching as her once stern expression was slowly forming into a grin.

She could never stay annoyed for too long, her lively personality forbid it.

"Because I'm 5 foot 2, I wanna dance with you and I'm sophisticated fun!" you hear someone beside you scream as you followed along, wrapping your loose arms around hers as the two of you begin twirling through the crowd.

Behind your drunken state, you just knew your sober-self tomorrow was going to be praying no one records your embarrassing moves.

The song seems to end faster than what you had anticipated, going from the funky beat to a familiar pop one which made you happier.

Shrieking in joy, Andrew jumped back to Florence and you once realization filled his ears. "I'm about to fucking go insane right now! This son-" stopping, he turned his head to find someone swaying right beside him before leaning towards their ear. "This is your song!"

Bursting out in laughter, you see the devoted artist agree to the obvious note he had made.

"Sorry about him," you intervene, your words coming out in slurs. "He's a dedicated Swiftie...as well as me," you squeak and watch as she waves her hand in appreciation.

God, if only you could see how badly you were humiliating yourself in front of the legendary Taylor Swift.

Not being able to begin your upcoming requests on scoring some of her sold-out concert tickets, you were dragged back onto the dance floor by your very hyper dance partner.

'I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me now'

Walking closer to get a better look at you two, Shailene's eyes widened as the song continued. "He better not-"

"Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground!" Andrew sung, falling on his knees with his head back. Following after him, you sink to the ground in despair as others continued screaming the lyrics over and over again.

Everybody's a Swifite.

Getting back up by the help of Shailene, you begin to serenade her as Taylor's famous lyrics start catching up. Expressing a face of sorrow and grief, you dramatically chant.

'And the saddest fear...'

But with the crowd of people pushing their way through, your vision ends up falling upon another person- one you were sure you would've avoided if you weren't as plastered as you were now.

'Comes creeping in...'

A sudden harsh push has you involuntarily making your way to your target, you accidentally pushing their shoulders back as they halt their movements, surprised you were even giving them any bit of regard in public until they realized what had happened.

Oh god, how can you be in this situation with a sad Taylor song playing. How ironic.

Noticing the sufferable look of discomfort forming upon your features by his proximity, he tries taking a hold of your shoulders to keep you from the rough crowd but you rejected his hands.

'That you never loved me or her'

Giving him one tough push of his chest, which was incredibly hard by how weak the night has made you, his face filled with hurt at the sight of your developing teary eyes.

You couldn't help it, all the memories of your relationship began flooding your mind. The laughs, the love, the arguments- and in this moment you weren't stable enough to contain your true feelings towards him.

Trying to reach back out for you, your ex steps forward but someone else begins to distract you.

"Or anyone, or anything, YEAHH!" Andrew hollers, viscously shaking your shoulders with his eyes closed before opening them, his beaming grin falling instantly. "Did I make you cry?!"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head and look down as you feel tears slowly begin pouring out. "Hide me before Taylor sees me, I don't want to look ugly in front of her." you joke, trying to stop his flourishing worries but it didn't.

Instead, it made him even more concerned by how unfazed you were after releasing your waterworks out of nowhere.

Nodding, he holds your hand and begins to lead you away from the crowd but another grip was holding you back. Looking at your other hand, you move your gaze to discover your ex was the one who ceased your steps, sending you an alarmed stare in return.

Trying to free yourself, you shake your hand vigorously as he leaned into you. "You can't just breakdown in front of me and expect me to leave you alone!"

Scoffing, you move your face away from his crazed one. "I'm drunk, ignore me."

"A drunk mind speaks the hidden truth."

Pausing your movements, you stare him down as he doesn't back away but only frowns by your rude attitude. He wasn't going to let this nonstop quarrel continue anymore, especially when you obviously weren't fine if you just fell apart over a silly Taylor Swift song.

In his eyes, you clearly weren't fine with him. He wanted to fix that.

Inhaling sharply, you forcefully pull your hand away as he winces by the sudden release. Trying to find a clever comeback in order to take a win on this minor bickering, you allow your drunken-self to take the lead. "I prefer Spider-man, anyway."

What the fuck? You pull a disgusted face, slapping your forehead once your back was facing Pedro to hide your embarrassment. How was that fucking clever? Spider-man- really?

Turning to Andrew, you tug his hand and swiftly make your way through the bodies of the crowd as your two other friends followed behind, definitely witnessing your intense argument with your ex- which you were sure people finally uncovered.

Strolling through the back door, a cold breeze hits your body causing you to shiver and clutch your arms together tighter in hopes of forming some warmth.

"Your car should arrive in a few minutes, Ma'am," you hear the valet attendant claim, awkwardly standing still as your makeup was smudged near the corners of your eyes.

You thank him as your friends quietly gawk you, curious to figure out what was going on but not wanting to trigger you more.

"Will you three stop staring at me like that and ask already?" you groan as they jump in alarm. "I know you're all very confused."

Slowly taking a step forward, Florence placed a soft hand on your arm for comfort. "We don't want to intrude. It's your business."

"I believe I welcomed the party in my business ten minutes ago," you sarcastically smile. "So, it's fine."

Sighing, Shailene was the first to speak up as Andrew gave you a sympathetic face, trying to be respectful. "You and Pedro dated?"

Shrugging, you nipped on your bottom lip to prevent the fear of tears from flowing again. "I guess?" you lightly chuckle, trying to lighten your mood a bit. "3 years must have meant something, right?"

Pulling you in for a hug after capturing your weak voice crack, Andrew cradled you in his arms as Florence and Shailene tried rubbing your back.

Being emotional wasn't really your thing, so being consoled was very strange yet nice.

It made you feel wanted, sadly.

All thoughts through your mind disappeared once a deafening bang was heard from the building, the four of you pulling away from the hug instantly and averting your focus to where the sound directly came from- the back door.

With harsh steps, you make out Pedro's agitated body language as he rapidly shook his head and pointed at you while your friends froze in shock. "I'm sick of you always running away from me every time we talk. Is that fair? I can't have one normal fucking conversation with you because you scatter the second words leave my mouth."

Feeling your hands tighten up, you hug yourself tighter as he takes your silence as complete bullshit.

Now you wanna be quiet?

"Do you know how hard it was trying to find you? Hearing everyone ask if you were okay because you decided to come up to me and run out crying?" he sternly declared, his face now serious as he inched closer to you, your emotionless expression killing him. "As if that was my fault!"

You knew he wanted you to breakdown, to cry in his arms and beg for forgiveness by making you feel as if this was all your fault. It might be- but you weren't going to give him that satisfaction.

His greed to be right was popular during your arguments, but of course he never saw it that way.

Stepping in front of you, Andrew awkwardly tried blocking Pedro from your view to calm him down. Placing his hand on his shoulder, Andrew began speaking. "Look man, maybe now isn't the right time to be discussing this." Giving a slight nod to the street, he continued. "There's paparazzi nearby, we don't want this getting out."

Faking a laugh, Pedro tilted his head before glancing over Andrew's shoulder to meet your eyes. "I'm sure the paparazzi won't be at fault for that one, right y/n?"

God, you hated how petty he would become when provoked. It was one of the rare traits that made him so unattractive and you hated how you shared it.

Maybe you both are just too toxic for each other if you can't be near one another, after months, without fighting- even if you did start it. It was a clear sign after all.

Glaring, you were about to break and fight back until a familiar SUV pulled up. Internally cheering for the literal perfect moment, you slowly ignore his presence and make your way to the car door as he scoffs.

"So you're just going to leave again, like always," he flares, crossing his arms over his chest as you pull the door open. "You can't be serious."

Groaning loudly, you slam the door shut and march over, facing him head on as his strong expression never falters. Instead, he released his arms to his sides and angrily looked down at you. "Can you just leave me the fuck alone?!"

Gasping, Shailene and Florence look at each other in disbelief as Andrew scratched the back of his neck, trying to process where this may be leading to.

Nowhere good, that's for sure.

Before Pedro could speak, you harshly place your hand over his mouth to shut him up. Which he did, but he was certainly not happy by your actions. "Yeah! I'm the one who caused all of this-" you start as you feel your adrenaline going crazy. "-but it's done. Over. Nothing we can do now to change what happened and if you're so worried about it, I'll make a public apology if it means I won't ever have to deal with you again."

Frowning, he snatches your hand away from his face that causes Andrew to wince at the rough contact. "Worried? You think I care about what happened in there?"

You swear you could see sadness fill his eyes as they hid under the blaring anger that was presented. He didn't dare to look at any other direction but your own, scared if he did you would run away again.

But he knew deep down that was coming, soon.

"Why else are you this upset with me-"

"Because you act like we never happened!" he interjects, exclaiming loudly as your mouth shuts. "You-" he begins, running his hand over his hair in frustration, "-you pretend like I don't exist. That we weren't together for all those years and for what? Why do I deserve to be treated like shit in the end? Why am I the only one trying-"

"Trying?!" you shriek, laughing sarcastically as he sighed in response, not taking your tone well. "Really? I don't recall you trying to reach me after you left me-"

"Left you? You changed the locks to the damn house! I couldn't come back in-"

"You still left!" you yell, causing him to flinch by your increase in volume.

Feeling the warmth of someone's hand on your shoulder, you could already tell it was Shailene's by the rings on them. "Maybe we should go. It's getting late and soon people will be coming out..."

Slowly breaking eye-contact with Pedro, you nod and back away. You were done with this conversation and you surely didn't want to even attempt to talk things over when you already knew you both needed help in order to even let things go.

But letting things go didn't mean reconciling.

The sight of you walking away from him terrified him when he knew it may be the last time he was ever going to be face to face with you again for a while. He didn't want to give up, not now when he finally had your attention after months of trying to bump into you.

That's hard when you blocked him on everything and instructed your neighborhood security he was not welcomed to see you weeks after you changed your locks. Of course he could've just waited until you left the gate to trap you, but he wasn't a stalker.

Slamming the door shut after you opened it, Pedro leaned his back against it to halter your movements. Freezing at his quick actions, you try pushing him away but he doesn't budge.

"I know you don't have a boyfriend," he blurts out, breathing heavily as he blocked your hands from grasping the door handle. You immediately pause as he continues to let his thoughts flow freely out of his mouth.

Did he watch that interview? Impossible, he was walking the red carpet. He couldn't have had time to.

"I know you said that to seem happy or I don't know, make me jealous? Fuck, you could've said that to fake it for the cameras but I'm not going to stand here and act like you don't love me."

Choking from his last statement, you immediately try pushing him away from the door to get in, even sending a look over your shoulder, you glare at your friends who sheepishly stand there not helping, too invested to intervene.

Those little nosy bitches.

Finding your wrists, Pedro stops your forceful shoves and lowers your trembling arms. "You still love me."

Not being able to move, you were stuck in his trance. Maybe it was from all the chaos happening and your emotions spiraling out of control, but you felt the sudden urge to give up.

You were tired. Tired of fighting, crying, being mad whenever his name popped up.

You wanted all of this to stop.

Gripping the back of your neck, he leaned in and sent you a hopeless look before pulling your body closer as a way to find comfort and security. "And god, I still fucking love you and you know that."

With that, you were snapped back into reality.

Finding all the power you had left in you, you yanked your body out of his arms and jumped back before he could catch you. Angrily glaring at him, you make sure there's enough distance so he wouldn't latch himself back on you before speaking your mind.

"Don't say that," you spit out, redness filling your face as your fury kept growing. "Don't say 'you know that' when you didn't seem to when you were constantly out with your ex without telling me!"

The dropping jaws behind you went unnoticed as you stared Pedro down, catching the way his face ached with agony the longer you two continued your shared meltdown.

This was getting out of hand and you both knew it.

"Why would I tell you when I knew this is how you'd react?" he snapped back, his hurt now forming into irritation by how ignorant you were being. He knew he did nothing wrong, so why couldn't you believe him? "Nothing happened and you know that."

Pointing a finger at him, you release a snarky smirk as he tried to contain his calm this time. You were getting on his nerves bad. "Hiding secrets with someone you were intimate with for five fucking years is deceiving," you huff, gripping the bottom of your dress. "and you know that."

Before he could fight for his defense, you completely shun him. Speedily avoiding his following presence, you make it to the passenger door of the SUV before he could block in and jump inside.

However, your movements weren't fast enough as he gripped the door hard, not letting you close it. Anxiously sighing, he lowered his head to keep contact with you as you ignored his close proximity, focusing on finding a stern hold on the door so you can shut him out, again.

Leaning in closer, he shakes his head. "We need to talk about t-"

"You didn't want to talk about it last time because you it was your own business remember," you intervened as he closed his eyes in exasperation. "What did you say again? 'This isn't about you. Stay out of it.' I'm out now so you can go."

"I was angry and ups-"

"Andrew!" you call out, causing Pedro to stop talking and confusingly gaze you. "Can you please help? I really want to leave."

Pedro let out a loud scoff, returning his past hurt look as you simply waited for your friend to rescue you. Within seconds, Andrew came by your side and sent Pedro a look of sorrow, not really sure how to make him feel better by his wanted removal.

He didn't need to do much as Pedro backed away himself, shaking his head and sent you one last glance of betrayal. "I'm fucking done," he declared, walking backwards and you prayed your sudden feeling of panic wasn't on full display.

"I'm not going to waste my time anymore when its no use." With that, he made his way back to the building, muttering a swift "have a great life" before aggressively pulling the door open and disappearing inside.

Ignoring the presence of people around, you stared at the windshield in front of you as Andrew stayed by your car door, not wanting to close it just yet.

You didn't want to admit it, but you felt your chest tighten as you began to feel uneasy. Was this it? Did you finally get what you wanted?

Or what you thought you wanted?

Of course you wanted this, now you could move on.

You had even forgotten about Florence and Shailene until the sounds of the back door opening flooded through your ears as they hopped in and made a seat for themselves.

As an intense wave of guilt took over, you immediately turned your back to face them for your explanation until Florence waved her hands to make you stop. "You don't need to explain anything right now, all I want is for you to relax."

Sighing, you slowly nod and turn back towards the front to see Andrew give you a small, condoling smile before gently closing your door, trying not to smash your feet or dress in the process.

Awkwardly gazing to the driver who was cautiously scanning over you making sure you weren't going to puke or breakdown, you send him a sad grin. "I'm sorry...for causing a scene."

He chuckles, shaking his head as you felt your cheeks burn from how embarrassed you were. You must've looked so childish fighting with a grown man over your secret relationship. "Don't worry, as long as I get a big tip you can do whatever you want."

Frowning at his response, your eyes widen as he laughs louder, his body shaking from how funny he thought this miserable situation was. "I'm only joking, I would never let a woman tip after dealing with an unfaithful ex."

Sitting up straighter, you send him a surprised look. "So you think he was cheating, too? Right? I'm not cr-"

"Okay! Let's not continue this conversation anymore," Shailene cuts you off and nods to the driver. "Please drive us to her house."

Your driver sends you a promising wink before starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot to hit the busy streets of the city. You wish you could remember the rest of the car ride, but sleep took over after the car passed the third traffic light.

But as you finally got to forget about the recent incident, little did you know it would haunt you the moment you woke up.

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lazyjellyfish300 · 6 months

Text

Fem Reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber Driver

Commissioned art by @ejpuki on Instagram, same as the one above, this is just a link to the original post. Please support the artist 🖤

Synopsis- in an AU where fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...with a twist on the og Miguel O'Hara comic. Word Count 4.5k

Pt 2, Pt 3 1, Pt 3 2 , Pt 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9

T/W: 18+ only, minors DNI, alcohol, drunkeness, mature language, implied masturbation, some sexual content/fantasizing, some self-deprecating language (reader is insecure), age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34)

This is my first EVER fan fiction piece! If you have a crush on Miguel O'Hara from Across the Spider Verse, this is for you...

---

"Next song is for all the bad bitches in here tonight, let's make some noise." As soon as the song starts you recognize that it's Agora Hills and a switch goes off in your brain as you yank your friend, Hailey by the arm to the dance floor while she struggles to get the last sip of tequila sunrise down the hatch as the ice cubes attack her face.

It was a Saturday night, now very early Sunday morning in mid-November. You and your two friends are in a slightly seedy club in Brooklyn. Right now, all three of you are trying to escape the first-world problems of modern day society, and common issues that would plague late-twenty year old adults like stagnant jobs, anxiety-inducing texts from distant family members about plans for the holidays, and a casual fling that started to sour about 3 days ago.

Right now, all you want to do is dance to this song. And go home for some relief because the tequila is making you horny and your situationship hasn't texted you back for going on 16 hours now.

You and Hailey giggle as you both throw your heads back in bliss to the music, holding each other's pinkies as you try and awkwardly spin on the dance floor.

"Wait!" Hailey calls out and stutters as she lets go of you and tries to squeeze through a sea of musk, 5- Gum, and Bath and Body Works perfume back towards your other friend, Brin, who's still at the bar.

"Fuckkk. Whatever girl." You drunkenly roll your eyes and close them again, throwing your arms in the air, moving to the beat. The song is making you feel even more electrified than before. You toss your head back and move your hands from your shoulders, to your chest, down to your thighs. It's one of those moments where you feel dangerous.

God I love being a woman! You picture going home with a stranger. A tall man's lips crashing down on yours in your dark bedroom in drunken passion, falling backwards onto your bed. You picture yourself pulling your clothes off slowly while his hungry eyes scan your curves…

Your fantasy is interrupted when you feel a clammy hand touch your hip, just below where your see-through top ends. Your eyes shoot what you hope is an annoyed look at the offender. A brown haired guy in a white t-shirt with a flannel who looks like his name is Tanner, smirks at you as he moves past you, but not before letting his eyes dart to your cleavage line under your black bralette. You groan and move the other direction and realize Hailey and Brin are nowhere to be found. Your drunkeness wears off for one second as you slowly jerk around, trying to make your way towards the bar.

A tall brunette with a half sleeve tattoo, glasses, and her straight brown hair in a claw clip is counting her drawer.

"H-have you seen my friends?" you ask her stupidly. The tall brunette looks at you, her small sticker name tag on her baseball tee shirt reads "Reagan."

"I can't hear you, hunny." Reagan has seen this a million times. "Last call just ended. Do you have a ride home? I said, do you have a ride HOME?"

Reagan leans over the bar, holding onto your wrist. Her breath smells good at least.

"Okay look, can you hand me your phone please? Let me help you order an Uber." You blow air out of your lips like a horse and sloppily hand her your phone. "Enter your passcode, please."

You type in your passcode and watch the glint from your phone reflect on her glasses as she orders an Uber for you. Luckily, your address is already saved to the app. "Okay, sweetheart, wait here with me. Miguel is coming for you in 4 minutes." She hands you back your phone and credit card. "Sign here please."

Fuck, did I transfer that 200 from my savings before I got here? You think as you sign the receipt she hands you. The total is $58.75. You scrape the tiny excuse for a pocket inside your skirt and hand Reagan a crumpled up 20 as a tip. Reagan takes it, eyes widen a little bit at the sight of the 20.

Did she mean to give me this much?... Fuck it. She gives you a small, concerned grin.

"Thanks... let me get you some water."

You nod and slump your head forward on the sticky bar.

Suddenly Reagan is shaking your shoulder.

"Hey! Your ride's here!"

You realize you might have fallen asleep temporarily. The room is still moving like you're trying to balance on a waterbed. She places a styrofoam to-go cup in your hand filled with ice water as she grips your left arm.

"Here, just take off your shoes, hunny." She bends over and pulls off your clunky heels and holds them in her free hand. You feel like you're 4 years old. You feel tears well up at the sudden kindness.

"Okay hunny it's okay, come on now." She pulls you outside and to the curb where a black Audi is waiting. The cold air assaults your bare legs and your teeth start to chatter. The driver recognizes his passenger is quite inebriated and gets out, walking towards the struggling pair.

You feel your bedroom eyes creep up when you see him. Oh no, he's hotttt!

You curse in your head silently for not checking your reflection before he got there. You're sure you're a hot mess though.

He's tall, huge, even. Definitely way over six feet. Dark tousled hair with dreamy brown eyes underneath sculpted brows are locked on you as he gets closer. You instinctually run a hand through your hair, trying to make it look more voluminous. Probably a lost cause at this point.

He's wearing black joggers with some worn Nikes. His black hoodie is baggy but you have a very good imagination. It covers a set of broad, wide shoulders and what you're sure are bold chest muscles underneath that lead to a delicious pair of V lines and an endearing happy trail of hair running down his belly button that lead directly to his-

"Can I carry something for you?" His rich voice pulls you out of your indecent thoughts for one second then sends you right back there again.

"Um, yes can you get her shoes please?" You hear Reagan's voice go up an octave.

Girlll me too. You think to yourself.

Miguel takes your heels in a pair of strong, large hands. As he does, he tugs his sleeve and checks a black Apple watch, veins running up a thick forearm. Called it. This guy was jacked. Probably a gym bro. Definitely has a girlfriend. You feel yourself get sucked back into reality. You were probably a 7/10 at best. And right now, probably a strong 4 after your shenanigans tonight.

Miguel opens the back door, allowing Reagan to tuck you in.

"Get home safe hunny," she says.

"Thank youuuu," you slur back to her as you sit, disheveled with your sippy cup of ice water in the backseat opposite of the driver's in front. Miguel gets in the driver's seat, the scent of Old Spice seeps in.

He smells good too?! You feel yourself wanting to sin. He sits in the front seat for a few moments in silence, fiddling with his phone.

"2949 Ocean Parkway?" he asks in his mesmerizing voice.

"Yeah, that's right." You feel yourself perk up. You're starting to sober up slightly but you still have enough liquid courage left to start asking him a lot more questions than you normally would.

"Your name's Miguel?"

"Yes," he answers. "Did you have a good night tonight?"

"I did! It was supposed to be girl's night, I'm not sure what happened to them, though."

"Your friends left you?" His dark eyes glance in the rearview mirror at you.

Sighhh "Yeah, I guess they did."

"You need better friends." One of his hands comes up and grips the shoulder of the passenger seat as he sits up and looks over his shoulder, his eyes meet yours for just a moment, then focus on the back window as he pulls out of the parallel parking spot. You can't help but stare at his chiseled jawline and his neck, imagining yourself planting a line of kisses on it while he groans and grits his teeth...

"You know what sounds amazing right now?" You ask in a flirty tone, interrupting your own dirty thoughts.

He cracked a small smile. "What's that?"

"Taco bellllll." You rest your cheek on the shoulder passengers seat, looking at him.

He glances at you, then keeps looking ahead as he drives.

"Well, if you want to update the route I'd be happy to stop anywhere you want."

You laugh.

"I don't know how to do thattt." The car comes up to a red light.

"Here, want help?" Miguel looks over at you as you hand him your phone which has the app still opened, courtesy of Reagan helping you from before. Miguel quickly types, his eyes going from the traffic light to your phone as he tries to enter the new address for the closest Taco Bell.

"Got it," he hands you back your phone, another whiff of his cologne coming off the fabric of his hoodie as he moves his arm back to rest on the center console while he drives with his left hand.

You glance down at your phone and then back at him, still leaning forward with your cheek pressed against the back of the passenger seat.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was curious about his new passenger, probably the last ride he'll do tonight. He didn't get a good look at you when the bartender was putting you in his car. He glanced over at you again when he thought you weren't looking, but quickly moved his eyes back to the road when he saw you were staring at him already with your cheek pressed against the passenger seat.

"You tired?"

"Kind of," you fake a small yawn while still holding your position.

Miguel laughed. He thought that was kind of amusing, how you were clearly faking being tired and shamelessly staring at him while he drove. He knew he was a good looking guy. Once you got into his car, he felt like he needed to take care of you and make sure you got home safe since your shitty friends wouldn't.

Your eyes wander to the space between his chest and the steering wheel, trying to imagine yourself in it, his strong arms wrapped around you as your hot, frantic, breaths fogged the windows as your bodies pressed together...

"So, y/n , right?" He asks.

Fuuuuck he said my name...

"Yeah..how did you know?! Oh right, the app, the app..."

Miguel smiles.

"So, Miguel, how is it being an Uber driver?" you ask. Feeling brave, you touch his elbow resting on the center console. Miguel's fist clenches tighter around the steering wheel at your touch.

"It's...not bad. It's been pretty busy tonight, actually. I went to the gym earlier then just have been taking a few folks like yourself around town who were going out as well. "

"That's nice. You know, we're gonna be best friends by the end of this drive," you grin, taking another sip of ice water.

"Really?" Miguel smirks. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Your heart flutters at this question. Why is he asking me that?!

"Uhm, no.. I was talking to a guy but I think he ghosted me."

"Heh, I'm sorry to hear that." Miguel replied, not sorry at all.

"Do girls ghost you? Or-uh, I mean- do you, do you have a girlfriend?" you manage to spit out.

Miguel smiles at your stutters.

"Nah, I'm single. I do have a daughter though."

Your smile disappears for a moment. A daughter? "Awhhh, what's her name? How old is she?"

"Her name's Gabriella. She's 6."

"That's sweet...." Miguel's handsomeness mixed with the liquor is enough to cause all rational thinking to exit your brain. I could be a step-mom, easy! I love kids, what the hell?

"So, how old are you?" You ask.

Miguel chuckles. "Isn't it rude to ask a stranger's age?" He glances over at you and the corner of his mouth raises at your slightly mortified expression. "I'm just messing with you- I'm 34."

"Dang, I'm 26," you answer as you look out the window.

"You're still pretty young," Miguel remarks as he turns down a new street.

"I definitely don't feel that way," you answer as you slump in your seat. You decide to check your email. Once you open it, a message that you don't want to see is at the very top. It's a random Yahoo email address you don't recognize which means only one thing: your asshole, estranged dad. You click on it quickly to clear the bold lettering indicating it's unread, and catch a quick glimpse of its contents which is a novel with no spacing. You quickly delete it with a loud sigh.

"Everything okay?" Miguel asks.

"Just my dad. Somehow he made another email address and tried to contact me again. It's a long story though we don't have to get into it..." your voice cracks slightly.

The skin around Miguel's eyes softens when you mention your tense relationship with your father. He himself knew that pain as well. His father, George O'Hara, wasn't a model parent, either.

"I'm sorry you're going through that," Miguel says emphatically. "I don't have the best relationship with my dad, either."

Once you hear this, the last bit of liquid courage in your system inspires you to spill the tea.

"He and my mom are divorced, and, well he's just a narcissist, right? Growing up, I didn't see it, but his whole family is full of them. My grandma never wanted him to marry my mom and so ever since their wedding day, she treated her like shit and when I came along, it was no different. I used to wonder why at Christmases she got bigger presents for the other grandkids and ask why she didn't show up for my birthday parties. My dad never did anything about it and always took their side. I finally realized it when I was about 16 when they divorced, and that's when I said fuck it. If you're not gonna stick up for my mom or me, I don't really want anything to do with you or your family."

Miguel nodded, just listening to you speak, glancing at you in the rearview mirror so you knew he was paying attention.

"Wow, I must say, that sounds horrible. Good on you for sticking up for yourself and your mother. As a parent myself, I can't ever imagine treating my own child or their family that way..."

You sigh.

"Yeah, shit's fucked. But there's nothing I can do about it, you know? I just don't have the strength to talk to him right now. But he never fails to try to reach out about this time every year. Since it's the holidays."

The car arrives at another red light. This time, Miguel turns around to face you while you're stopped, his eyes directly looking into yours.

"Don't feel guilty for doing what's best for you. No matter how hard it is. I know that most people think that family is everything, but, truth is sometimes they can hurt you the most." Miguel then turns back to the wheel.

You feel a flutter in your stomach as though an invisible spark appeared. You were strongly physically attracted to your handsome Uber driver, no doubt about it, but after hearing him speak, you realize there's more behind his captivating features. You feel the very beginning of a connection starting to form and suddenly you wish you had all night to talk to him. Miguel felt the same way, too. In fact, he was going 5 miles under the speed limit and riding the slow lane to try and prolong the encounter. Luckily, you were still too tipsy to notice.

"Well, this should cheer you up..." Miguel pulls the car into the Taco Bell parking lot. You groan internally when you realize you're going to have to go inside. You step out of the car, the cold air assaulting your bare skin again. Miguel notices you shivering.

"Here." Without hesitation, he peels off his hoodie and hands it to you. You want to die as soon as you put it on, and once you see him standing there without it on. He's even more toned than you realize. He's wearing a grey athletic shirt that hugs his broad shoulders just right, his defined chest and ab muscles tapering off into a narrow waist. His hoodie is still warm and smells intoxicating. You feel your hormones going crazy when you bring the collar of the hoodie to your mouth and nose, shamelessly getting drunk on the scent he left behind...

You do a mini sprint to catch up to him as he's already making his way towards the restaurant.

Miguel looks at you from the corner of his eye and his heart skips a beat. He adores the way his oversized clothes drown you. The hoodie is big enough to be a dress on you. He imagines this would be how you two would look together getting a bite to eat, only after making you scream his name 30 minutes before....

You and Miguel enter the Taco Bell and he gives an awkward grin as he holds the door open for you.

"Why don't you sit down or use the restroom if you need, let me order for you," Miguel says.

Your heart melts, but you decide you better seem modest with your order.

"Umm just a gordita crunch, small Baja blast, and a 2 pack of Cinnabon delights please."

Miguel smiles. "You got it." Suddenly, he feels close to you. You trusting him to order food for you and take you home after a rough night out while letting you wear his clothes.

While you go into the bathroom, he approaches the counter.

"Hello, I need two gordita crunches, a large Baja Blast, and a 12 pack of Cinnabon delights, please" He takes out his card and pays for the food without a second thought.

Meanwhile, you come out of the bathroom after cleaning up a bit, still wrapped in his warm hug of a hoodie and wait near the door. Miguel strolls over with your food and grins at you.

"Are you ready to go?" You nod and grin back and you two make your way back to his car. Suddenly, you realize.

"Do you have Venmo? Let me know how much I owe you."

"Absolutely not." Miguel answers firmly. "Here, why don't you sit up front this time?" He opens the passenger door for you. You beam at him.

Is this real? Is this guy really doing all this for me and I just met him? You've never had a man treat you this well. Not even your last relationship could be bothered to hold a door open for you or pull out a chair. You get in and Miguel hands you your bag of food, the delicious aroma making your stomach growl. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion when you realize there's a lot more food in the bag than you told him to order originally. Miguel gets in the car and starts to drive again.

"Did, did you order extra food for me?" You laugh as you turn to him. Miguel gives you a small half smile but says nothing. You take a bite of the gordita crunch and let out a loud, "Mmmmmmm!" Just what you've been craving all night.

"Thank you, thank you so much you have no idea..." Your sentence tapers off as you stuff one of the piping hot Cinnabons into your mouth.

"You're very welcome." Miguel answers as you arrive at another red light. You realize Miguel didn't get himself anything.

"Do you want a Cinnabon bite?" You hold the box and give it a little shake.

Miguel offers a polite smile. "No thanks, those are all for you."

"Whaat, you can't turn down one of these. Have you even had these before?" You say playfully.

He chuckles at your playful tone. "I haven't, actually. But I trust your judgement."

"Come onnn...it's the LEAST I can do after everything you've done for me tonight. You're seriously gonna make me feel SO bad if you don't take at LEAST one." You give the box a couple shakes as if it's going to entice him more.

Miguel sighs. "Alright, you got me. I'll try one."

You smile wide as he takes one of the Cinnabon bites from the box you're holding in an outstretched hand. Your smile almost breaks your face as you see his reaction to his first bite.

"Jesus.." he mutters as his brows furrow in disbelief. He looks down at the remaining bite in his fingers as though he can't comprehend its existence. "That's spectacular, actually."

"Have another one!" You beam.

"Don't mind if I do." Miguel pops another one in his mouth and he brakes again at another red light.

He glances over at you and notices a little bit of taco sauce on the corner of your lip. "You got something..."

Suddenly, your heart stops as he raises his hand to your face, cupping your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger, while his middle finger cradles your chin. His lips part in concentration as he gently presses his thumb against the corner of your mouth, retrieving the smudge of taco sauce. Your mouth falls open a little bit too. He gives you a little smile as he brings his thumb to his own mouth, cleaning the sauce from his finger.

That might have been the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. At this point, all you want to do is grab his face and make out with it. Traffic be damned, your runny mascara be damned, your deflated hair be damned, you don't care anymore about any of that. He could ask you to do anything and you'd give it to him without hesitation.

Miguel is thinking the same thing. He did that on purpose. If it wasn't anymore obvious he wanted you right now then he wasn't sure what was. His gaze falls back to your lips. He suddenly realizes you've begun to lean in closer to him. Your noses are inches away from each other. God, he wanted you. To lick passionately into your mouth with his tongue. Being able to hold you and grip your ass as though he was a starved man who couldn't get closer to you even if he tried. Watching your brow furrow with pleasure, hearing your voice and watching your breath fog his windows and the heat rising in his body knowing he was the cause...

Reality busts in like the Kool-Aid man.

She was drinking tonight. You just met her. She's your passenger. Technically, you're still working right now...No, it's not right...

Miguel pulls away suddenly, and, as if the universe has his back, the traffic light turns green and he presses the gas, driving once more. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart starts to pound again.

Doesn't he like me? What happened....? What did I do....? Did I misread the signs? I wanna hide in my room for the rest of my fucking life now.

You clear your throat and take a long sip of Baja Blast. The uncomfortable silence and tension becomes a thick fog. You recognize your apartment building coming into view and your heart sinks.

"Home sweet home..." Miguel pulls into the parking lot. "Is here a good place to drop you off?"

"Yeah..." You try to make your tone sound like it's back to business. Miguel nods and grips the steering wheel with both fists in the 12 o' clock position as he watches you gather your things.

Ask for her number, you fucking pussy... Truth is, when it came to matters of the heart, Miguel's heart was glass.

"Thank you for the ride and the food, and, and just everything..." you step out of his car, defeated. You really didn't want to be the one to make the first move. If he really wanted to he would...

Miguel looks back at you with a neutral expression.

"Of course. You have a safe night, now." He starts to pull away.

"Miguel!" You realize you're still wearing his hoodie and you go to take it off.

He looks at you through the rolled down window, still driving away and shoots you a gorgeous smile and shakes his head at you in refusal, giving you one last wink that nearly knocks you over.

You sigh with frustration and watch his car disappear into the night, trying to memorize his license plate but your brain is hazy and the numbers on it escape your mind as soon as they enter. Your heart leaps in your chest when you realize you might be able to contact him through the Uber app...

No no, you let him talk to you first. Did your last situationship teach you nothing, you dumb hoe?! Don't be that desperate girl...

You wrap the droopy arms of his hoodie around yourself as you walk up the stairs and take a deep sniff...burying yourself in his scent so you never ever forget it. Even if he didn't want to spend the night holding you, you could go to bed with a huge smile on your face knowing you walked away with a piece of his clothing, the essence of what he left behind wrapped around your body all night long. An intangible connection that bound you two together...

Miguel sighed as he drove away. He just didn't have the bravery tonight. He didn't want to come across as creepy. The reality is, you were a slightly intoxicated stranger, a vulnerable woman younger than him, and he didn't want to abuse his power over you in that way. He looked at the empty passenger seat next to him and laid one of his hands on it, feeling the warmth you left behind. Trying to remember the way your thighs pillowed on it...the way your soft lips opened in shock when he wiped the sauce from your mouth, the small line of saliva from you that he caught on his thumb and licked into his own mouth..

He inhaled deeply, his jaw tensing and speed on the road increasing as he felt his body getting hot... He tried to lock your perfume in his nose for as long as he could, imagining himself inhaling it directly from your soft neck... holding onto the remainder of your presence, just...just until he could get home and relieve himself of his dire wants...

You, the perfect stranger who found herself in the passenger seat of his car tonight, and unknowingly wound up in the back of his mind for good...

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Hope you liked it! Thank you SO much for reading. ❤️ Part 2 is coming soon!

Pt 2

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #tension #fem reader #Spotify

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