octaneink

[octaneink]

So...I'm crying again...

I should really not read angst back to back

BUT ITS SO GOOOOOD HOLY SHIT

too sweet

will lenney x reader fic

willne x fem!reader angst

song rec: Too Sweet by Hozier, too sweet (but from the girl's pov) by Brielle Anderson

It can’t be said I’m an early bird / I know you said I’m an early bird  It’s ten o’clock before I say a word / It’s twelve o’clock before you say a word Baby, I can never tell / Baby, I just can’t relate How do you sleep so well? / How do you sleep so late?

I’d rather take my whiskey neat / I think I’ll keep my conscience clean My coffee black and my bed at three / Ignore your murmurs as we hit the sheets You’re too sweet for me / Saying “you’re too sweet for me”

summary: he swears that it’s not you, it’s him. it’s a fighting battle between two people who are determined to change each other.

contains: angst, established relationship, drinking + alcohol, suggestive scenes and jokes, breakup 

notes: another fic based on a song, yk how it goes here. suggestive scene ahead, no actual explicit smut proceed with caution. hope yall enjoy, any feedback is appreciated

word count: 2.7k+

When you first met Will, your similarities and common interests were what drew you in. It was like love at first sight, he was easily enamored by whatever common grounds you both had. You moved quickly, and it seemed as if you were a perfect match for each other. 

Pretty soon, you both realized that you were almost total opposites, completely different from each other. But it didn’t stop you both from staying together. They say opposites attract, and maybe you could balance each other out. 

You had public social media accounts, but you were mainly out of the public eye as you had a traditional 9 to 5 job, contrasting to Will’s entire career of being on YouTube and having a public platform. You’d make occasional appearances– Instagram stories, five seconds of being in frame of a video, a mention in a video or a podcast, tags and comments under your boyfriend’s posts. 

You and Will framed your opposing lifestyles as an “opposites attract” type deal– that you were a fresh breath of air from Will’s all-consuming online presence and grounded him, while he added a new perspective to your life with entertainment and stories from his videos. He’d travel for videos and worked late into the night on projects, while you kept a consistent routine that you hardly strayed from. You’d work your usual 9 to 5 with an hour break for lunch, where you’d go on your phone to check in on Will. You’d come home with the 50/50 chance that you’d find Will ordering takeout for dinner or the flat empty and having to cook yourself dinner. 

Truthfully, you rarely got to see each other outside of work. Will had more flexible hours, but he was hardly a morning person. His job required him to travel a lot, work was constantly on his mind. You were stuck working 40 hours a week, only having the weekends off. The little time you got to spend together was unplanned, often taken up by business meetings, influencer trips, or Will spending extra time on projects. 

He’d always tell you that you were too sweet for him, and perhaps that was closer to the truth. You were like caramel– soft-spoken, laid-back, as opposed to his sharp-tongued sarcastic humor and serious demeanor– he reminded you of black coffee, bitter and strong. 

It seemed that both of you were always in denial about how different you were from each other, and how your differences were affecting your relationship. 

Because then came the long nights you’d stay up until Will got home, only for you to go to bed right as he opened the door. You’d wake up early as he’s still asleep in bed. He’d wake up with an empty space to his left. 

Despite everything, a part of you yearned to stay with him. In your mind you pictured an idealized future with him– something closer to fantasy– your relationship was magically perfect. You dreamed of days when he’d be there when you’d come home, cooking dinner together and cuddling on the couch as you’d commentate on some shitty reality TV. To you, this perfected relationship with Will was entirely possible, you could have the domestic dream with him. All you had to do was stay. 

You’d always try to tell him off when he’d stay up too late. Or distract him from stressing over a new main channel upload. It was like reeling him back into reality. You’d beg him to fall asleep with you, to finally get a good night’s rest. 

“Will, it’s almost 1 a.m.” You peeked your head outside your bedroom door to see Will sitting on the living room sofa, typing away at the laptop in his lap. “C’mon, go to sleep,” you urged him. 

It was like you were almost invisible, an afterthought that lingered in the air. He sighed. “I’m just checking on some main channel stats. I don’t need to be in the office until noon.” 

“But you shouldn’t stay up so late.” You tiptoed over to him, hovering behind the couch. “I want you beside me in bed.” You reached one hand down to his shoulder, “If you go to bed now we could wake up together, spend the morning together, you could get a proper breakfast before going to the office tomorrow.” 

He stopped typing for a second and touched your hand, gently squeezing it before brushing it off. “I want to wake up with you, I swear. I’m just not a morning person.” 

“And you always wonder why you’re so tired all the time, why you can’t get up in the morning.” That was always his answer, you knew to expect it. But that didn’t stop the wave of disappointment that hit you. You swore to yourself that one of these nights Will would actually listen to you and you could get ready for bed together. 

He didn’t say anything. Hiding your reluctance to go to bed alone, you leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Goodnight, love.” 

He turned his body towards you, reaching to grab your hand. “Goodnight, darling.” He brought your hand closer, kissing the back of it. It felt like an apology. 

It was the little acts of affection from him that made you feel like it was worth it– or that you could justify that it was worth it. Worth staying, worth nagging, worth begging, worth working. 

You laid in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling with your thoughts before turning onto your side and closed your eyes, ignoring the painful absence to your right. 

The next morning you awoke to your alarm at 7:30 a.m. You hit the snooze button on it. You rubbed your eyes awake and glanced to your right to see Will sound asleep. The usual. 

Routine was always a comfort to you. Every day was the same order and same song. You were always structured, and it always showed in your relationship with Will. He was always flexible hours and spontaneous trips, expenses, ideas. You always kept a low profile, not needing to draw attention to yourself. Your tendency to stay out of the limelight drew people in to you, however. Everyone always talked about yours and Will’s relationship, how different you were and how unlike him and everyone he was friends with, you didn’t crave the attention or fame. And that made people online yearn for your presence. 

They searched for crumbs of your existence, basically begged for you to show yourself online, say something, do anything. It was overwhelming at first, but you got used to it. People were quick to flock to your public Instagram anytime you posted a cute photo dump– the idealized version of your life. You showed the adorable moments you shared with Will, hiding the boring and bland parts of your relationship. You slowly started showing up in videos, stories, TikToks, though it was not frequent. 

You sat in your cubicle, ready to work another day away. 

During your lunch break you opened your phone to check your notifications. You looked for any messages from Will. It was one text from him, “Filming videos for second channel. James says hi.” 

Viewers begged for Will to have you in a video properly, the same way James usually is. Your work schedule didn’t allow for you to visit the office whenever filming would usually happen, and Will didn’t like filming in the evening. 

Though, an exception was made for one time. It was one video, all about alcohol, that of course James couldn’t both be in, so you were the next best option. Will was dressed up in a nice white button down shirt and black slacks, matching your work clothes as you had just finished work. The timing of filming made drinking a little more appropriate, and you honestly needed a drink after a long day at work. 

“Right, hello my friends! Welcome back to another video. Here with me today is my wonderful girlfriend!” 

The conversations between you and Will felt casual, natural, but it wasn’t anything crazy that made it obvious you both were dating. Other than the occasional pet names, inside jokes, forbidden nicknames, and lighthearted banter, the atmosphere and environment made you look nothing more than coworkers. 

“Dude, they should make a show called Love or Host Island,” you giggled in your seat, the alcohol getting to you. 

“Lass, the fuck are you on about?” 

“It’s like Love Island– but it works like Love or Host.” You took a sip. “The participants can choose Love: they get to go on a private date on the island with the contestant, or Host: they get to have the island all to themselves for the week and the contestant has to go home.” You look at the camera with a wink, “AustinShow hit me up if you like my idea.” 

Will continued to mix up the next drink as you rambled, looking focused as opposed to your relaxed and giggly demeanor. 

“Mate, you look so locked in,” Ieuan teased from behind the camera. “Your girlfriend is happily yapping away and you’re focused on not spilling!” 

It was a funny image– you beaming a bright smile without a care in the world while Will was slightly hunched over, eyebrows scrunched and hands gripping the drink mixer. 

You glanced over at him, your eyes landing on his hands. “How about you grip my throat like that tonight?” you joked, earning some reactions from everyone in the room, including Will. 

“God, you’re so drunk off your arse right now,” Will muttered, sounding more annoyed than amused. 

“Oh, come on,” you slurred. “It’s been a while.” 

“Yeah, that’s enough.” Will looked up at the production team behind the cameras. “No one here needs to know about our sex lives and we’re gonna need to cut all of that.” 

You only giggled to yourself and kept drinking. 

You were definitely more of a lightweight compared to Will, evident by your inability to walk in a straight line as you came home. You had one arm around Will for support as he guided you to your shared bedroom, helping you take off your shoes. 

“You definitely should’ve eaten dinner or something before filming. You’re such a lightweight.” 

“Oh, but you love that you don’t have to buy as many drinks for me to have a good time.” You sat on the edge of the bed, shooting him a euphoric smile. 

He sighed, but his face softened as he looked you in the eyes. “Yeah, yeah, pet.” 

Your smile never faltered, and your hands gripped the front of his shirt, as you were naturally clingy when intoxicated. You kept reaching towards him, pulling him closer to you into a hug with your arms wrapped around his middle and head pressed into his chest. He settled on gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders, his hands softly caressing your head. 

“I’ll order us something for dinner,” Will pulls away slightly to look at you. “You want anything specific?” 

“Mmm I can think of something specific I want for dinner,” you said suggestively, eyeing him up and down with a flirty smirk. 

Will rolls his eyes playfully, patting your shoulders. “Alright, lass. I’ll just order us something simple.” He presses a quick kiss on the top of your head and begins to walk away but you grab his arm to pull him back. 

“Willllll,” you drag. 

“Love,” he says cautiously, like a warning. 

You don’t let go of him, instead bringing him closer again. You drag your hands up his arms and to his chest, gripping the front of his shirt. You reattached your lips onto his, growing more desperate. 

Will pulls away slightly, leaving a small amount of space between you two. “Darling,” Will tries again. “I need to order food for us. You haven’t eaten dinner yet.” His hands rested on your shoulders. 

“I want you,” you say boldly, the alcohol in your system giving you sudden confidence. “Need you.” You say a little softer, staring up at him. “Now.” 

“You sure, pet?” Will asks gently. His hands found their way down to your thighs, resting gingerly. 

You pulled him in again, reconnecting your lips onto his. Your hands trailed upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers played with the back of his mullet, tangling themselves in his hair. 

He melted at this, hands now on the sides of your waist to push you closer to him. “Fuck, who am I to deny you?” he spoke softly, moving down to your neck. You let out little soft noises, knowing their effect on Will. 

He pushed you back slightly against the bed, his knee on the bed and between your thighs. His lips never left your body as his hands fumbled with the buttons of your shirt. With your upper chest now exposed, his lips moved down to your collarbones while your fingers stayed in his hair and legs wrapped around him to pull him closer. 

“You’re too sweet for me, darling,” he murmurs into your skin. He says it like he’s undeserving of you, like he can’t believe you’re really here with him. He sighs when he feels your hands trailing down his body, stopping at the now obvious bulge in his pants. You shift to buck your hips up into him, rubbing yourself on his thigh that’s between your legs. 

He manages to get your shirt off while you fiddle with his belt and undo the button of his pants. You’re about to pull the zipper down when he suddenly grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. 

“Want you to feel good, first,” he whispers softly. You don’t protest. He’s got you half-naked on the bed, his hands now on your thighs. You invite him to keep going. You let him take charge. 

He tastes you, and he says it again. “You’re too sweet for me.” 

You lay in bed in his arms, spent and satisfied. His hand traces little circles on your back. You’re still catching your breath when he presses a kiss to your temple, “You’re too sweet for me.” 

It becomes apparent to you how Will sees you. He’s too stubborn to change, and you’re too stubborn to leave. He wants you, but you’re not what he needs. He holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. 

You let the moment sink in, your eyes feeling heavy and eventually falling asleep. 

You wake up the next morning with Will’s side of the bed empty. It’s the same routine every time, but this time it doesn’t reignite something inside you the way it has before. You feel a change in the air of your shared bedroom, the realization of last night settling in. This time, you feel a sort of heaviness on your shoulders. A weight is now left in your stomach. 

It’s a feeling you can’t quite shake off. 

The next time you see Will you’re aware of how he lingers, but you can’t seem to really feel him. He’s like a ghost, he’s just hovering. You don’t really feel him there. 

Your bodies don’t ever touch while you’re in bed. You face away from each other, an invisible wall separating your sides of the bed. Sometimes an arm or a foot will cross that invisible wall, a small and silent invitation for some physical touch. But neither of you ever give in. 

And Will continues to stay up late, working. Every night ends the same, you kiss him goodnight and go to bed without him. He becomes less present in your life, and the distance between the two of you increases each day. 

You don’t ever talk about it, but you’re both aware that it’s there. 

There’s one last night of intimacy, another chance at reigniting something within you. 

But you return back to the same old routine, and the distance is louder than ever. It screams at you, that you’ve been ignoring the obvious. 

So then comes the conversation with Will, it’s mutual. The wall between you is torn down, and you’re both transparent. You’re honest, but you’re tired. 

It was never going to change, and you’re both frustratingly stubborn. 

He helped you pack your things away in boxes, never really saying a word to you. You don’t break the silence either. You let it settle. 

The frustrating fight between two people who were determined to change each other is now over. Before you leave, Will says one last thing to you. 

“It was never you, it was me.”

a/n: hope yall enjoyed :P

[octaneink]

gave you I gave you I. william lenney

willne x fem! reader. ex-situationship au. angst. 2.9k. warnings: alcohol consumption.

a/n: very distantly inspired by normal people! oh also. first ukyt fic BE NICE. also thank you @csenke for beta reading as always 🤍 i know u dont give a f abt this man so it means a lot

His fingers automatically scroll through his messages app, acting on muscle memory as the pad of his pointer lands on the person he needs the most right now. His judgement is a bit hazy and his eye-sight is a bit blurry, an additional effect of the spinning head caused by the amount of shots and pints he’s consumed in the pub behind him, and the idea of his soft, warm bed is the only thing he can think about right now.

Will vaguely remembers Callum telling him he is the driver tonight– something about needing to leave early tomorrow morning, the exact reason, he wasn’t really arsed to engrave into his memory– and so he sends him a short text (that he hopes doesn’t have as many typos in it due to his alcohol levels). He has to close one eye and manually focus the other one to even see anything on his screen– and that’s when he really realizes just how wasted he managed to get. He presses the little “send” symbol in the corner of his screen, waiting for a reply.

The text read a simple “can you get me home”. Will is aware asking him face-to-face would be the best, but the air inside of the pub was too thick for him to breathe in without wanting to throw all his insides up on the bar, right there in front of everyone, and he didn’t see his friend in the initial 3-minute search he managed to organize for him in his mind before he gave up, so texting him was the best next option he had.

Taking in the chilly air, glad the screaming of his friend group and the strong smell of alcohol is now all behind him, locked in the pub and only as a painful echo of the night, he decides the curb is the best place to rest his limbs before somebody comes to him for rescue. Before he has a chance to even crouch, though, his phone starts buzzing in his hand, surprising him. Without even checking who it is, he accepts the call and presses the phone to his ear, awaiting the (slightly annoying, as he would call it in his drunken state) voice of one of the Fellas.

“Will?”

His heart stops. The single syllable of his name coming out of your mouth is enough to have countless memories flood into his brain and then make a chemical, visceral reaction in his chest. Suddenly, he thinks he might throw up after all. Why are you calling him in the middle of the night?

“Y-yeah?” he manages to choke out, voice a little higher than usual, unsure if he managed to make himself sound normal.

“Are you okay?”

Now, that’s a loaded question, Will thinks. Anyone who saw him get drunk like a fool tonight might disagree– hell, he even heard the whispers concerned about his mental well-being circulating in his friend group, he did notice the worried glances some of them threw his way at every self-depricating joke– but to you, he must appear completely fine. Wonderful, even.

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the only word he knows.

“Well, I was just asking, ‘cause of the text,” he hears you mumble, your voice still having a hint of uncertainty behind it, a hint of tiptoeing around something neither of you want to name or talk about.

“What text?” he asks, a little dumbly.

“You just said to get you home…?”

Oh.

Will wants to both face palm and run under the closest car all at once. Of course you’re not calling him because you want to talk to him– or just because, like his yearning heart selfishly, delusionally thought. That could perhaps be the stupidest thought Will has ever conjured– because realistically, of course you’d want nothing to do with him.

“Oh, that was-” he clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his neck, “that was a mistake. I meant to send that message to Cal…”

There’s silence on the other side of the line, stretching out anxiously to the point where he thinks you might just end the call and leave him standing there with a growing hole in his chest. Before he has a chance to check his phone to see if the connection is still on, though, he hears your voice again, stopping him in his tracks.

“Are you drunk, Will?” the question doesn’t sound at all mad, or disappointed– to which he is kind of glad. Your voice is coated with something completely else, though, something that is a little too close to worry for Will to not react to with irritation. Because he’s fine. He’s unaffected.

“A little, yeah,” he admits.

This is where the call ends, isn’t it? You got the misunderstanding sorted out, so there’s no other reason for you to talk now. Especially after the month of silence– not that Will’s counting, of course.

He’s wrong, though. And he’s not sure if he should be glad about it.

Because you keep talking to him, and word by word, he feels something inside of him breaking– something he tried to build the whole month you spent apart, even though it was infunctional and everyone saw through the facade. Every single word you say to him is like a step back from his progress, unravelling him and kicking down the bricks he built around himself– quite ironic to the reason why you two ended up in this position in the first place.

Because his walls were always the problem, weren’t they?

“Another Fellas’ party?” you hum, chuckling. You heard all about them– hell, even attended some with Will in the months you spent together, side by side.

“You know it,” he nods, an airy laugh coming out of his mouth.

“And how have you ended up the drunkest?”

“That’s a wild accusation, love,” the pet name slips out between his lips before he has a chance to stop it, regret immediately sucker-punching him in the gut, “Chip and Arthur are present, after all.”

“I bet they’re not the ones accidentally texting another person, though,” you tease, making Will feel a bit lighter– but only for a minute, before he realizes he scrolled down to your name in his texts on pure instinct, as if it was habitual. As if his unconsciousness wanted to talk to you after all, and he just never had the balls to do it after you ended things with each other.

“Well, I’m not the one throwing up into a pint glass,” he jokes, referencing Chip from just a few minutes ago, a hint of disgust coating his words as he tells you the news (which are not really that new, after all. You’ve seen it happen before).

“Not again…”

“Mhm,” Will hums, getting momentarily lost in the ease of the conversation.

That’s how it always was with you. Strangely easy. He could talk to you about everything and anything– starting from his worries all the way to funny stories from recordings or his trips abroad. Hanging out with you has always been his favorite time of the week. Whether it was spent with you two just launching on the sofa, mindlessly watching some TV show on Netflix, or going to get coffee together and brainstorm some new flavors for Rodd’s. You were both his anchor and his own personal rollercoaster– exciting him, bringing him joy and some sort of eagerness back into his life.

But one day, all that was lost, and Will could no longer just call you up like this and talk your ear off about anything that came to his mind.

Worst thing? He knew it was entirely his fault.

For not getting serious with you– even though in his heart, it was the most serious, most committed he’s been in his life. But it wasn’t enough and you deserved more, and Will could never, ever blame you for leaving.

“I don’t miss that sight, you know,” you chirp, the mental image of you shaking your head in disbelief, like you always do, materializing behind Will’s eyelids.

“Yeah, I know,” he hums, thoughts swirling in undecipherable strings and mixes, words coming out of his mouth before he can even stop them, “but, y’know… if ya wanted to come and hang with the rest, you’d be welcome to.”

“Will–”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to like, y’know, keep you away from the lads and stuff, so really, I could even fuck off and stay home when you come around and stuff…” he mumbles, slowly walking down the street, his footsteps resonating in the silent night.

You found friends in his group– Will knows that. You could talk about your nerdy interests with Arthur for hours. Will never really had anything intellectual to add, so he just listened, but it was enough for him to know you fit in with his circle. You and George always had your own funny banter going on and you always tried to keep up with his and Harry’s drinking, which resulted in Will taking you home more often than not when you inevitably failed. You fit right in, like a missing puzzle piece, and Will feels bad for being the reason you’re missed.

“It’s okay, Will,” you say, making him stop in his tracks. “They’re your friends, after all,” you reply, and it feels like a slap to his face.

“They’re your friends too,” Will argues, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Everyone keeps asking about you, y’know.”

“Well, that’s nice,” you say, a hint of something unreadable behind your words. “And what do you tell them?”

Will thinks back to all the conversations he’s had for the last month. He thinks back to the night you told him you two should end ‘whatever this is’ (because he was always too scared to put any label on it), to the moment you left his flat and he manically paced around the living room before he went out on a run. He thinks back to the moment he came back, late at night, and called James, holding back tears. He thinks back to the moment he first came to the pub without you, and Chris and George teased him about getting dumped– to which he didn’t offer a snarky remark, showing too much of his true emotion and reality of the claims, making both of them shut up and avoid the topic for the rest of the night. He thinks back to Chip and Arthur asking about you, confused when he had to tell them he hasn’t spoken to you in a while. He thinks back to telling Harry in a moment of weakness, holding on to his pint glass like a lifeline.

It hasn’t been an easy month.

“The truth,” he replies, eyes pressed to the starless sky.

He hears you hum on the other side of the line, the conversation lolling into its inevitable end. It makes Will’s hands shake and breathing hitch, the idea of not hearing your voice again for a while sending a wave of panic into his chest, almost sobering him up.

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Will.”

“Why did we– why didn’t it work out with us?” he asks, the desperate question dragging from his lips like a prayer, surprising even himself. The line goes silent for a moment and he thinks he lost you, thinks you declined the call and just went to sleep– like you should’ve when you received the text message in the first place. And he wouldn’t blame you if you did any of these things– because deep inside, he knows you deserved more.

But he also selfishly thinks it was worth trying one more time. He thinks you two had something you could figure out together, had you had more patience. He thinks he was worthy of the mess.

“You know what, forget it–”

“Ultimately, Will, I think you weren’t willing to let me fully in,” he hears you explain, slowly, like you’re rethinking your words. “I think you weren’t giving me all that I needed. Which is fine, because I know it was hard on you as well, but it just… didn’t feel fair for me to keep waiting for the impossible,” you chuckle, a hint of bitterness behind your words.

And Will would love it if he didn’t know what you meant.

But he did.

You meant the way he claimed you as his in your bed and outside of it, but never truly sticking a label on it. Never truly committing. Every time he thought he was ready to take the next step, there was an annoying voice inside of him telling him that it’s too scary and it’s doomed to fail one way or another, when you realize he’s not worth it– and why would you two even need a label, when all of it was so easy, so close to a relationship anyway? He was never leaving you in this intermediate state because he was letting himself have some sort of back door, some sort of other options in mind.

Will knows you meant the way he could never put you as his priority. Too focused on work, chasing his dreams. Being a perfectionist, getting lost in editing, forgetting to text you back, not able to work around your schedule. You meant the way his mind was always somewhere else, the way he was too lost in his plans one day to remember you were supposed to meet.

He knows he was never around enough to make him worth the wait. Once again, he could never blame you for the decision you made– you protected your heart and peace. Had some self-worth, as Becky once told Will off-handedly, after learning all about the situation from 3 different people.

“I don’t think it was impossible,” he says, “I think I just needed a bit more time,” he says, and even he feels that what he’s saying is pathetic. Because who knows how much more time it would’ve been, had you never opened his eyes to the reality by leaving?

He never knew how much he needed you before you were gone, moving on to better things. He never knew how much he wanted you there before you left, never knew how desperately he’d do anything you’d ask him to, had it meant you’d come back.

Because the truth is, the feelings he had for you were never the problem. Will just wasn’t really good at articulating them. He’s always been bad at loving people back.

There was always a you-shaped hole in his chest that ached at every mention of your name in passing, yearning for your presence. He thought of you the majority of his day, selfishly thinking of a way to fix things– maybe in another universe, maybe if you met at the right time…

“Truthfully, I don’t think I mattered that much,” you laugh, but Will knows it’s faked. It’s the type of laugh you’d force at Isaac’s bad jokes or when you were uncomfortable when someone hit on you in the bar– to which Will always came to your rescue.

And the words sting. It’s like the worst thing he was ever accused of.

How could you think you didn’t matter? He took you out on Valentine’s day. He introduced you to all his friends, happy just how easily you fit in. He texted you every single day and came to pick you up from work regularly. He remembered all the small things– like how you take your coffee and what your favorite The 1975 album was. He had a mental list of all your wishes and worked hard on making every dream on that list– no matter how small or big– completed. Like taking you to the London eye when you moved here, even though he’s been there countless times and doesn’t find London at all that attractive anymore. Or like getting you a ticket to Glastonbury, to which you went together and you cried about on the way home.

You were everything.

“You’re ridiculous,” he shakes his head, bitter, the alcohol speaking for him on the next part. “I loved you, y’know. Still do, I mean, for what it’s worth.”

He dropped the bomb neither of you dared to say in all the months of your undefined relationship, as if to selfishly prove you wrong about him. He said the words both of you tiptoed around for ages, thinking that maybe now that he said them out loud, they would stop haunting him late at night, not giving him sleep.

You’re silent on the other side of the line. Of course you are, Will thinks.

He doesn’t expect to hear you say them back. He didn’t expect to say them himself, surprised at how easy it was to confess them.

“You’re drunk, Will,” you say instead, calm and composed.

“That doesn’t change anything, Y/N. I-”

Before either of you have a chance to finish the conversation, the door to the pub opens behind him and a loud voice startles him away from the quiet moment of sincerity with you.

“Here you are!” Callum hollers, waving at Will. “I was looking for you everywhere, mate!”

Will nods in acknowledgement, not really wanting to end the conversation with you. You take it upon yourself to do so anyway, though.

“You should go, Will.”

It seems that it’s now your turn to build walls around your heart.

“Can I… can I talk to you later?” he asks, hopeful.

“Come on, Will, we’re leaving!” the rest of the group materializes in front of the pub, waving him down.

You ignore his question.

“Get home safe, Will,” you reply, before the line goes silent.

[octaneink]

I see theres more written by you for Will

Sees unrequited love and angst, thinks "Ah, can't be that bad"

ANYWAY I RECOMMEND IT!

three of swords. william lenney

willne x fem! reader. very brief george clarke x fem! reader. unrequited love. angst. 2.1k. warnings: mentions of alcohol.

a/n: I just can't stop writing about will and yearning I'm so sorry. I'm not usually an angst girlie so if any of yall have any requests send them my way :p any feedback is appreciated!! also thank u belovedest @dorims for reading and hyping me into posting this. forcing people read fics abt a man they dont care about one friend at a time!

Will watches as you dramatically wipe your forehead off imaginary sweat, shaking your head in disbelief and grin at him in apology. “Now, that was a whole work out and a half. Thanks for the help,” you say, leading the man towards your living room, where a glass of ice cold coke is already waiting at the coffee table, untouched.

“It’s alright,” he waves you off, following you into the small, but homely space. Will can’t even count the times he’s been at your place anymore, having seen the modern, yet cozy interior countless of times, falling into the familiarity of it all. Tonight, though, he’s here for a whole other mission– one he wishes he didn’t have to take on, but did so anyway, for you.

“I told Chris to watch him, but he didn’t really keep up to his promise,” you snicker, offering Will the glass of coke and sitting down tiredly at the sofa.

“Having Chris promise you something is like knowingly walking into betrayal,” Will quirks, having you laugh out loud at the banter.

“Well, I’ll remember that the next time,” you nod.

The living room falls into comfortable silence, one that Will has grown used to over the years of knowing you. His figure situates itself next to you on the small couch, resulting in your knees bumping into each other, a contact he just can’t bring himself to break, no matter how hard he’d try to. It’s like you cursed him– even after all this time, he can’t make himself stop the feelings blooming in his chest.

It almost makes him curse to himself– when he realizes the effect you still have on him. He spent years trying to hide from the feelings, months getting up the courage to confess them, and now, he’s spent countless weeks trying to hide them, because there’s no use to say the words to someone that doesn’t want to hear them.

It wouldn’t be fair of him to confess to you now. Not when you’re in the middle of growing something with someone else.

“How are… how are things going with George?” he asks, suddenly in the mood to torture himself.

You light up like a fucking Christmas tree, a punch to his gut. Why did he even ask? “Very good, actually. Well, when he doesn’t get drunk to the point of not being able to walk, that is,” you snicker, pointing back to the situation that took place just a few moments ago, which led to Will helping you get your new boyfriend home.

“That’s good to hear, then,” he says, forcing a smile. Will feels like he should add something along the lines of ‘I’m really happy for you,’ but he doesn’t, simply because it would be a lie.

And he’s never been a good liar. Not in front of you, at least.

The only thing he ever managed to hide from you, his best friend, was his true feelings. Which is quite ironic, he thinks. Only if you caught on sooner– maybe Will wouldn’t have to pretend he enjoys seeing you in love with someone else now.

Or maybe you knew all along– you just didn’t feel the same, so you never called him out on it to not make things difficult. He’ll never know, though, because he’ll never ask.

Because if you knew and never said anything, that means Will never had any chance with you in the first place– and that’s information that would completely break him, he thinks. It’s simply better not to know.

“Well, I owe it all to you, so…” you sheepishly smile, another knife twisted in the poor man’s chest.

Because you’re right, and Will now hates himself for it.

He hates himself for introducing you to his friends. What was an innocent action fueled by the want, the need to have you with him at all times– even when he’s out in the pub with his colleagues turned friends– turned into one of them taking peculiar interest in you. And Will noticed right away, of course he did.

When George asked him if it was okay to make a move on you, Will froze. He panicked. But at the end of the day, he said yes. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t wanna try anything if you’re planning to–”

“No, it’s all good, it’s fine, go ahead!” Will said back then, acid on his tongue.

He thinks that must’ve been the worst decision he ever made in his whole entire life.

“Saw you needed some help in the love department,” Will tries to joke through the suffering, “it was only natural for me to do the charity work and introduce you to someone,” he says, earning himself a lighthearted punch to his shoulder. The smile on your face makes him mirror it, momentarily forgetting about the ache in his chest.

“No, but seriously,” you turn soft, tender, “thank you. George is… it’s good, very good. He’s patient and lovely, all I ever dreamt of, to be honest with you.”

Of course he is. Will would sort it out with his own two hands if he wasn’t– but he knows it’s the truth. George Clarke is an epitome of every woman’s dream, which doesn’t really help Will’s own self insecurities in the long run. He knew he was never really good enough for you, but comparing himself to his friend only makes the whole situation worse.

Will can’t blame you for your choice. George is simply everything Will’s not.

Broad shoulders, great teeth. The same fucking hairstyle, just a bit more stylish on George. He has the ability to grow a full beard, something Will hasn’t grown into even at his age, and is respectful and over-all sweet to everyone around him. Not too much of a cocky attitude. His jokes always land and everyone gravitates towards his presence, even in a room full of people. He’s the main star, the heartthrob of the internet. Invited to every single Sidemen shoot– something that happens to Will rarely, despite his years-long friendship with them. 

How could you not love him?

He’s all you ever dreamt of. Will could never compare.

“You sound like every other fangirl in his comments,” he jabs at you, watching as you roll your eyes at him in annoyance. 

“I mean, at least he has someone to say the Tiktok comments to his face,” you shrug.

“Ouch, okay,” Will grunts. Usually, he wouldn’t be affected by the teasing– but this situation is different. It’s different when it’s you laughing at him for being single– especially when you’re the only one he’d let fix that issue.

“No, but seriously, is there no one in your horizons? I see you less and less these days, I don’t even know what’s going on with you,” you say, only twisting the knife in Will’s heart further.

He thought you didn’t notice– the space he’s been trying to create between the two of you. He wasn’t trying to unfriend you, not at all– he just wanted to wait out the worst bits first. He just wanted the sharp pain to turn into a dull ache somewhere in his ribcage, one that he could push down and ignore instead of it being all he’s focused on whenever you’re around.

But he also realizes it’s been easier for him to do, because he’s no longer the top of your priority list. It’s easier to avoid someone that has less and less time to see him. 

And it’s natural, but it hurts. Because you were his friend first.

You were his first.

“No one on the horizon,” he hums, “Hinge’s shite as always.”

“Should I try talking to one of my friends?” you ask, and Will hates the way he knows you’re being serious.

“Nah,” he snickers, avoiding eye contact, “I’m okay. Not really what I’m into right now.”

“Live a little, would ya?” you shake your head at him, “all that working is gonna drive you mad. Are you even interested in women anymore?”

“No,” Will grunts, “switched to men, actually, now that I have James and all–”

“Come on!” you sigh, not appreciative of his poor attempt of a joke. “You know you can tell me, right? I won’t tell a soul. Unless there’s a way I can help you get with her, or something.”

Will thinks he is going to chew up the empty glass in his hand and swallow it dry. He isn’t at all ready for interrogation of this kind. “Y/N, just because I introduced you to George, it doesn’t mean you have to repay the favor, or something, if that’s what we’re doing here…”

“No,” you sternly enunciate, eyebrows furrowing together. “I just want you happy, you muppet. You’re my best friend!”

Best friend. To Will, it’s been a blessing and a curse.

A bitter laugh drags itself out of his throat. “I think that ship sailed already, love.”

“What do you mean? Has she died, or something?” you joke. It seems to Will that you won’t stop pressing him. You have him backed up against a corner, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold the secret down before it drags itself out of his chest, leaving claw marks on its way up.

Not when you look at him like that– with eyes reflecting the yellow light of the lamp in the corner, hair a little messy framing your tired face. There’s lip gloss making your mouth twinkle with every word you say to him, the softness of your bare thigh colliding with the flesh of his knee. There’s a picture of you and him together still framed on your desk in the bedroom, where George’s sleeping, and Will selfishly wonders if it ever haunts the man when he holds you close at night. And even though he shouldn’t, Will can’t stop himself from wondering how life would be if he was the one that gets to kiss you, if he was the one that gets to stare at the picture frame from the right side of your bed.

Your scent infiltrates his heart with a yearning that hurts, with yearning that makes him regret ever nodding to George's inquiry back when he first introduced you two together. He hates himself for never getting the balls to confess to you instead.

And maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped you wouldn’t be into George as much. He hoped you would find that he just wasn’t the one for you, and Will could hush out the three simple words one evening when he’s sat on your rug again, eating the take away he bought for the two of you on his way back from a shoot. 

What an incredibly stupid thought that was.

“Worse,” he hears himself say, eyes involuntarily pressing into yours as he mutters the next few words. “Was in love with my mate, and then she went and started dating my friend,” he huffs, like it’s funny– but the truth is out now, indirect, yet still vulnerable– he’s too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.

There’s a moment of silence that’s no longer as comfortable that hugs you two like a weighed blanket. It makes Will feel slightly claustrophobic, his palms turning sweaty as your smile freezes and slowly disappears off your face. There’s still something anchoring him back to reality, though– it being the fact that none of it matters anymore. 

He was too late, and he is the only one to blame.

“Will… who- who are you talking about?” you ask– but you don’t have to. Because you know all his friends, and you’re not stupid.

“Ah,” Will nervously gets out, already standing up from the couch and dragging his jacket with him, “you wouldn’t know her. Anyways, I should get going, if you’re sorted out and stuff.”

You watch him from the sofa, big eyes like a well of water bearing into his with intensity he didn’t know from you before. It makes him crumble, the fake smile he’s put onto his face breaking for just a second before he glues it back together, the realization that even though his confession meant nothing, it could’ve still ruined everything, making him falter in his movements. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Will takes that as his cue to leave.

In a moment of pure selfishness, he reaches to you, giving you a hug that feels too loose, too insincere, but fixed by a short peck to your hairline. “Don’t worry about it, yeah?” he laughs, whispering into your ear, trying to lighten the situation. “Night, Y/N.”

And just like that, he silently tip toes out of your flat, closing the door behind him the way he wishes he could close the door on you, wishes he could close the door on the invisible string that’s tied from around his heart right to your fingertips and finally snap it in half. 

But he could never do that. Not unless you tell him to leave, not unless you force him to walk out– and hell, he wishes desperately he didn’t nudge you to that very choice tonight.

Because he can’t lie to you– you always see right through him.

[octaneink]

Girl I actually ADORE your fics 😍 I’m getting more into ukyt recently and was wondering if you had any recommendations for series to read as I’m pretty new to the fanbase :)

so honoured to be asked ! some of these are 18+ so if you're a minor, please do not interact ! if i have missed you, please don't take it personally and just let me know ! other authors who do one shots you can find here !!

⇒ i have a feeling you got everything you wanted (george clarke) @mia-maybank ✩ incomplete

⇒ closing arguments (arthur frederick) @raekensluver ✩ complete

⇒ inside trouble (george clarke) @livvymd ✩ complete

(the rest of the series is in her masterlist!)

⇒ audio erotica (george clarke) @snoopyclarkey ✩ incomplete(?)

⇒ lost in translation (george clarke) @pookietv ✩ complete

(the rest of the series is in her masterlist)

⇒ caught in the act (harry lewis and will lenney) @pretendyoucantseeme ✩ complete

⇒ among us (harry lewis) @sdmnpact ✩ complete

(the rest of the series is in her masterlist)

⇒ back to friends? (alfie buttle) @clarkeysbedchem ✩ complete

⇒ fault lines and second chances (will lenney) @octaneink ✩ complete

⇒ blue-eyed bet (part two, as part one is linked) (george clarke) @georgeclarkeys ✩ incomplete(?)

⇒ we have a spare room (george clarke) @mmkclarkey ✩ imcomplete

(other parts on her page)

⇒ no way back to normal (arthur hill) @cheekytv ✩ complete(?)

⇒ pushing it down and praying (will lenney) @roc-haze ✩ incomplete

⇒ you complete me (arthur frederick) @smzyyx ✩ complete

(rest of the series is in her masterlist)

⇒ island boy (harry lewis) @insomniac4000 ✩ complete

(other half of series here!)

⇒ if you were dating.... (ukyt boys - i've tagged for george, but below are the others) @thedyingliiight ✩

⇒ inside series (george clarke) @headdinthewall ✩ complete

(the rest of the series is in her masterlist)

[octaneink]

I—

ANYWAY, READ THIS ALL!!

NSFW HEADCANNONS - will lenney

content warnings : smut

a/n : this is a bit shit and a cop-out at my attempt of writing smut,, please bear with 💖

a (aftercare) - what is he like after sex?

will is an angel when the moments died down. after what has been a probably long and rough night - he will pour a bath, make you tea, and put some shit on the telly. he will hold you until you fall asleep, his arm curled round your waist.

b (body part) - your favourite and his favourite

on him - definitely his arms, he adores the fact that whenever he flexes them, you're just absolutely drooling, and let's not forget his hands.

on you - he is a thigh type of guy (especially being between them) but he will hold onto them 25/8 as long as he's near them.

c (cum) - anything to do with cum basically

this man does not care about making a mess. he's a fuckin' freak and you love it. he will finish anywhere - from your tits to your ass. will is also quite possessive, and loves nothing more than coming inside.

d (dirty secret) - what it says on the tin, dirty secret of his?

i feel like a dirty secret of will's would be definitely to do with like restraints (not on him obviously), but the idea of seeing you, maybe with your hands to the bedframe or him pinning them above your head just drives him wild.

in comparison, i feel like he'd go feral for letting you be dominant over him every once in a while. just the idea of you having control over him makes him weak at the knees.

e (experience) - does he know what he's doing?

will knows what he's doing. he is confident in his ability to please himself, but mainly you but also loves learning and trying new things. basically he's experienced but not so much so that you're wondering if he has another career or girlfriend.

f (favourite position) - again, quite self explanatory - his favourite position?

butterfly and doggy, but especially the latter.

butterfly - the idea of you, beneath him, and him being able to see you in your entirety. nothing is more beautiful than that. (also he fuckin' loves you wrapping your legs around him). probably the go-to for a more intimate moment

doggy - his favourite ever. definitely if you're both feeling more rough and ready. him seeing you from behind, him gripping your hips so tight that it leaves bruises drives him CRAZY. the pure feeling of you squeezing him like a vice. oh my word. he's also able to grab your hair a bit more - which you fuckin' LOVE.

g (goofy) - how is he in the moment? - cracking up or serious?

depending on what happened prior, he will either be very giggly, cracking jokes during foreplay and making you laugh or completely serious. especially if you've done something to wind him up - say tease him out in public. the only smile you'll be drawing out of him is when you're overestimated and begging for more. normally though, it's quite light - he believes sex should be fun and enjoyable!

h (hair) - how well groomed is he?

honestly, he's quite neat and tidy, just for his own preference and hygiene. he doesn't mind about you either, as long as he can eat you out with your fingers running through his mullet.

i (intimacy) - is he romantic in the moment?

he is a romantic through and through. even if you're blowing off some steam from a hard week, he will break character to say 'i love you' or remind you how perfect you are.

j (jack off) - masturbation headcannon

he wanks regularly, and often times it so you can walk in and help him out. he's always down for a mutual masturbation sesh - him watching you get off makes his head spin. he will wank to anything of you. a picture of you in his hoodie? the polaroid of you with cum covering your chest? some flirty, all-knowing texts you sent when he was with jim or a mainchannel video? everything about you gets him going.

k (kinks) - what's he in to?

will is very much into the degrading praise aspect of sex. just how you react to it - tears brimming the corners of your eyes as he calls you a 'slut' as you take him, and you fuckin' love it. additionally, i feel like he likes it rough, but when it's just soft and intimate, he loves to praise you, and he really treats you like a princess - holding your hand while he fucks into you.

l (location) - where does he like it best?

nothings better than your own bedroom, he loves bending you over the side of the bed, but he will have sex in most places. bending you over the kitchen top, holding you by your hands in the shower, a quickie in a shitty bar loo, pulling over and fucking you in the backseat of his car? if its doable, he will try and 99% of the time - you end up doing it sometime again!

m (motivation) - what gets him going?

not much doesn't get him going. but something umatched is when you've been apart for a few days. you both would've send some risqué messages, maybe a couple of pictures - and you'd always pick him up from the airport and he'd struggle to keep his hands off you. additionally, you dressing up to go out - to him, you're bloody irresistible and he's insatiable. knowing you love to dress up and make yourself look fancy warms his heart. just to see you, stood in a dress, heels on in all your glory - he can't get enough.

n (no) - what turns him off?

anything painful beyond a bit of choking (never forcefully), hair pulling, or a light bit o' spanking. basically, if you're in pain beyond desire, he will stop immediately. if you're in pain during sex, then he doesn't want it.

o (oral) - is he a munch or does he love receiving?

honestly its a very 50-50 relationship and most of the time you and will probably end up 69'ing before one of you combusts but he loves nothing more than eating you out, hands gripping your thighs as they suffocate him. he lives for the whimpers and moans he can draw out of you - and loves nothing more than you being blissed out on his tongue. however, he loves when his cock's down your throat, mascara dripping down your cheeks as you gag around him.

p (pace) - hard n fast or slow n sensual?

again, it depends. sometimes if he's feeling more romantic, he will take it slow - just going at a pace which means you both have breathing time and can really relish the comforting touch of the other. however, when the switch is flipped, will goes feral. the sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans bouncing off the walls really turns him on.

q (quickies) - opinions on quickies

always down for a quickie. if its a quick hand job while he's driving, him dropping to his knees between zoom calls, or him fucking you against a bathroom door of your friends' house - he is always has an excuse to 'nip out' for a short time, but just long enough for you to return dazed.

r (risky) - is he willing to go out of his comfort zone?

yes. i am pretty sure that as your relationship progresses, then he takes every opportunity to be a bit risky, especially 'round your friends' house - with his fingers hovering over your clothed core.

s (stamina) - how many rounds is he going?

foreplay plays a huge role, so probably that and one full-energy round, before you shower (and normally neither of you can resist yourselves and end up goin' in for round two)

t (toys) - does he own/use any?

he prefers using them on you. normally, he'd actually sit back and watch you get yourself off with one of your vibes. on a separate note, he would definitely have a remote control one too, for in public situations. he loves watching you fall apart infront of his eyes.

u (unfair) - basically, is he a tease?

will is a massive tease and especially with foreplay, he will be dragging it out as much as he possibly can, but if you tease him - it's game over. he will say filthy things in your ear, as he tries to draw out your orgasm as long as possible, as a result of you teasing him. additionally, he dabbles in overstimulation - hearing you whine at just the sensation of his fingers. oh my god.

v (volume) - loud nd proud or quiet nd reserved?

will is loud. he will be either praising you or saying filthy things to you most of the time. you also draw out the most beautiful noises from him. safe to say the neighbours have complained.

w (wild card) - random headcannon for him?

he loves nothing more than riding. watching you get off by grinding on his thigh drives him mental. additionally, he's big into mirror sex - he loves watching you take him, especially if he's fucking into you from behind. finally, he has filmed you riding him and sucking him off. they're only for his and your eyes, and that's why he likes them.

x (xray) - (im imagining guess by charli xcx in my head),, what's going on under them clothes?

he's packin' a hefty cock. it's above average length, but not particuarly girthy but he fills you up proper.

y (yearning) - how high is his drive?

will has a pretty high sex appeal, but with his peaks come his troughs, and that works for you as well. he never turns down an offer though.

z (zzz) -how quickly is he falling asleep after?

will wouldn't fall asleep immediately after sex, just out of habit of waiting until you're completely zonked until dozing off. probably a couple hours after - he has a shite sleep-wake schedule.

taglist : @octaneink , @pretendyoucantseeme , @thewheezingjester , @Selects-14 , @rkaya , @clarkeysbedchem , @mrslenney , @xoxoxyra , @theoreticallythe, @hoomin10 , @wherethezoes-at , @livvymd , @luvdixon

[octaneink]

Accurate before and after of me reading this fic. This is so cute!! Really hits the spot

dear devoted delicate. william lenney

willne x fem! reader. established relationship au (who is she!). toothrotting fluff!! 1.4k. no warnings, just will being a simp <3

a/n: I never write established relationship fics idk what possessed me (it was the pics)

Will’s eyes are glued to his laptop screen, a useless Excel sheet opened and staring back at him with a bluntness that bites, makes him annoyed and defeated at the same time. Because yes, he has a whole team behind him now helping him with every step of the journey, which makes it all a whole lot easier, but it also makes him feel twice as responsible for everything if it doesn’t go as planned. Him and his producers have spent the last few hours trying to figure out how to plan out their next video– how to take care of everything that needed to be sorted out, the time scheduling, the permissions to film for various places– all while having a set budget they weren’t trying to overshoot. And the thing is, Will usually enjoys this part of the process– he’d even argue it’s his most favorite– but today, it just was not his day.

Maybe he just woke up to an unlucky day. He spilled coffee all over himself in the morning, meaning that he had to change, which made him miss the tube. The latest video he put up didn’t get as much attention as he wanted it to, another brand pulled out of a deal, meaning their funds were now running shorter than they needed to execute the video they wanted to its fullest potential, and everything irritated him simply because he had to exist today. 

When Mikey took a sneaky picture of his sulky face from across the table at one point of the early afternoon, Will had to collect his composure and count to 10 to calm himself, or else he’d reach over and smash the device against the nearest wall.

Suddenly, the door opens. Will looks up from the screen curiously, not really knowing who to expect, since the whole team was already in the office– maybe Chris, maybe one of the Fellas– but much to his surprise, you are standing in the door, a shy smile plastered onto your face. 

And suddenly, Will forgets all about his gloomy mood.

You take a few hesitant steps towards him, something hid behind your back. That peaks Will’s curiosity– he doesn’t push it, though, knowing he’d find out soon enough. 

“Hi!” he exclaims, physically beaming just at your presence. 

“Hello,” you chirp, smiling not only at him, but also at the rest of the crew. Everyone gives you a warm welcome, acknowledging your presence with soft smiles and greetings. “I don’t want to get in your way, ‘cause I heard you’ve all got a lot on your plate today,” you say, to which Will furrows his brows in question– how would you know that? 

A devilish chuckle lands into his ears. Oh, of course. The picture Mikey took– he should’ve known it wouldn’t just be left in his gallery.

You and Will haven’t been dating for long– it’s only been two to three months– but you’ve already been acquainted with everyone in both his friendgroup and his workspace. Everyone adored you– as expected, Will thinks– and he was happy you were comfortable with tagging along to some of his shoots, or meeting his friends with him out for a pint. However, there is one, just one disadvantage to the whole thing– that being your growing accompliceship with his annoying editor.

“I just came to drop this off on my way home,” you peep, finally showing Will what you’ve brought along with you. Will wants to acknowledge the fact that his office is not at all on the way to your apartment, meaning you had to make the effort to add additional 30 minutes there and back just to get home from work– which is a normal person job with real responsibilities, not recording silly videos on social media– but before he has a chance to say anything, his words die on his tongue the moment his eyes land on the gift you’ve brought him.

There, in front of him, is a bouquet of flowers. Nothing fancy, just something you probably bought at Tesco self-checkout along with your groceries, but still– it’s flowers, wrapped in cellophane, beautiful and delicate.

Will furrows his brows, growing sheepish as he takes the stems into his hand. He’s filled with a bit of confusion, never having been given flowers before, yet he instinctively brings them closer to his nose to smell them. “What is this?”

“Flowers,” you deadpan, making the rest of the crew laugh out– mostly at Will’s shaken composure. He is currently acting like a deer in the headlights, stiff and frozen, not knowing what to do with himself. What he doesn’t know or realize is the fact that he is also growing a bit red, subconscious at being watched by everyone in the strangely intimate act, but also the fact that his eyes are glimmering, watching you like you’ve just brought him a winning scratch ticket instead.

“I know it’s flowers, love, I have eyes,” he ironically grunts, shaking his head at your antics, “I’m just sayin– isn’t this supposed to be the other way around? Why are you giving me flowers?”

“Didn’t know you were so patriarchal, Will,” you joke, watching as Will fully rotates his office chair so he’s facing you, body language inviting you in. “You can get me some next time, though, if you want to act like a gentleman.”

“Nah,” he retorts, “not in my blood. That’d be doing too much.”

You roll eyes at his jokes, knowing he’s not serious at all with his claims. If anything, Will has been mostly a gentleman– opening doors for you, carrying your bag, doing the sidewalk rule, even though you doubt he would be able to explain the concept of “the sidewalk rule” if you asked him about it. 

“Right,” you nod, sighing. “But yeah, no, I just saw them… thought they were pretty, thought of you, got them,” you shrug.

“Are those correlated? So you think I’m pretty?” Will asks, unknowingly walking into his own trap. He forgot everyone was listening to your conversation.

“God, no.”

“Right.”

You squint your eyes at him, playfully, before you decide it’s your time to go. “Don’t forget to put them in a vase with water so they last, okay?”

“Bold of you to assume we have vases around here, love.”

“A water bottle will do, Will,” you grunt, shaking your head. 

“Ay ay, captain!” he nods, saluting.

“Okay, I’ll get going then, pretty boy. I’m cooking pasta for dinner today, so you can come over after, if you want?” you throw Will a sweet look, followed by a quick side-hug and a wet kiss to his cheek, making him even redder at the affection. It’s not like he hates PDA, of course not– he enjoys pulling you close in public, an arm draped around your shoulders, a kiss to your temple whenever he feels like it– it’s just him being the one on the receiving end of it rather than initiating it is what makes him shy away from prying eyes.

Because there is nothing casual or nonchalant about the way he handles it– butterflies buzzing in his stomach, a wide smile settling on his lips, making his cheeks hurt. He can’t be caught like this– it’s embarrassing. 

God, he hates you.

“Mhm,” he shyly hums in agreement, eyes following your every move as you let go and walk towards the door.

“Bye everyone! Good luck with the video,” you smile, receiving waves and goodbyes by the crew. 

Only a few seconds go by as you close the door behind you and disappear from the corridor before Will physically feels everyone’s eyes on him, Ieuan’s suppressed laugh landing into his ears and making him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“I would appreciate it if we didn’t talk about what just happened,” Will nervously comments, eyes pressed into the laptop screen.

“Okay, pretty–”

Will kicks the man into his shin under the table, only resulting in the whole office erupting in laughter. Knowing that he can’t escape it, he stands up from the table and reaches for an empty Rodd’s bottle he meant to throw into the trash a few minutes ago, walking towards the bathroom in order to clean it out and put the bouquet into it. 

“You’re whipped.”

And you know what?

Maybe he is. 

But after coming back to the office, fueled with not only caffeine and sleep deprivation anymore, but also something else– something better this time, Will is able to come up with new ideas and figure out the old problems with more ease. It’s like his whole day did a 180, and if your sheer presence is what helped the whole thing,

he doesn’t think that being whipped for you is such a bad thing.

[octaneink]

Even Better in Person // WillNE

• Summary: Will and reader collaborate on a video together after James began touring, play dress up, and feelings blossom. • Pairing: Youtuber!Reader x friend!Will Lenney • Fluff • Warnings: Swearing • Word count: 4,425 words

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

“Right! Hello my friends, today we’re gonna go through even more lost Amazon parcels!” Will bellows to the main camera. “You might be wondering where James is today and, well, he’s botherin’ other people while on his tour. So we have the much less annoying, very lovely y/n joining me, to see if we’ve made profit!” Y/n sits smiling and waving at the camera, feeling slightly shy at being called lovely by Will. Deep down she can’t believe she’s there, next to the WillNE, considering she’s not a large creator herself.

It came about after one of her videos, a brutally honest Temu haul, gained traction and ended up being on a lot of people’s recommended. This wound up on Will’s radar and he figured he should have her come by his studio to film some form of haul together. They messaged back and forth through instagram, then they had a Discord video call to discuss the Amazon idea, where they realised they shared great banter and just clicked. Things just blossomed from there. This brings y/n to today; meeting Will face to face for the first time, to judge other people’s parcels.

After some delays with travel, she’d turned up slightly later than expected. The crew were polite, but had to usher her and Will to share only quick hugs and hellos before getting in position to start filming. This worked out in y/n’s favour however, as she’d developed quite a ‘YouTuber crush’ on Will since he’d reached out to her, and the hurry made for a good distraction. Will promised to spend time with her properly after filming, to make up for the rush.

With the video introduction out the way, the pair dive straight in the with parcels. Will has a larger more padded package which he assumes is clothing, whereas y/n has a smaller box and guesses it to be a headset. Will’s was a pair of hot and cold taps for a bathroom sink wrapped in a ton of bubble wrap, whereas y/n’s was a knock-off PS5 controller - so not too far off. While Will fiddles with the taps, twisting the nozzles, y/n double checks the price: £12.99.

“This is over £10 so it goes in the good bin, right Will?” She asks with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, uh-” he stops himself mid sentence and grins. “Yeah! You’re already better than James at this, I had to explain this to him like a million times.” He chirps, leading to y/n and the crew laughing. She shyly looks at the controller information on the box, trying to hide the heat on her cheeks from the way he looked into her eyes and beamed so genuinely.

The next two parcels look similar in size and shape. Will opens his to find a pack of solar powered fairy lights, which he naturally drapes over his shoulders like a scarf, while he leans over and watches y/n gently open hers. “You can just tear it.” He whispers gently over her shoulder, his breath tickling her ear.

“I don’t want to damage it,” she chuckles awkwardly. Will takes the box off her, his long fingers grazing over hers and they exchange a brief glance. Will’s seemingly unbothered, unlike y/n, who plasters a calm smile on her face to cover the electricity she felt.

“Oh don’t mind that.” He then grins before tearing the box open, a cascade of false press-on nail packs spew across the table. After regathering them together in a pile, the pair study each packet. They all contain different lengths and patterns of fake nails. Will holds up a pack of pink leopard print ones, first to the camera and then to y/n. “Please put these on me y/n.” He states, more of a command than a request, his intense stare into her eyes causing her throat to dry up.

“Right now? They might break if you keep ravaging the boxes.” She quips.

Will frowns for a moment. “Hm, maybe you’re right, put them on us when we’re finished.” He holds the pack in front of y/n, as she reaches to take it, he claps it in her hand with both of his. As her gaze darts to his eyes, he keeps his hands there. “Make me fabulous.” He adds on, almost as if he only said that to keep the contact for a couple of seconds longer. He chuckles before turning forward again. “The rest can go in the bad bin, they’re all cheap as fuck.” He shoves the other packets of nails to his left into the red bin, most missing completely, then yanks off his fairy lights and whips them in too.

They dig through a few more parcels, finding only mundane things like hose pipes, extension cords, gloves, all of which go in the bad bin. Y/n gets passed a large but soft package, whereas Will’s only given something small. He rips through his first only to find a dog collar. He lets out a small laugh before pulling a fake offended face. “Oi, did you lot know this was a collar?” He glances from crew member to crew member as a smirk creeps on his face, y/n presses her hands to her mouth in shock.

“Oh no!” She muffles, her eyes wide as they dart from the collar to Will’s face.

“I’m only jokin’ it’s all good, I’m over all that!” He shrugs with a low chuckle as he fiddles with the collar, glancing over at y/n’s package before meeting her gaze. “I’m well over it.” He repeats quietly before his attention returns to the parcel. The reassurance, for only her to hear, and his gentle tone makes her heart skip a beat. And the way he looked at her in those mere seconds, like he wanted her to know he’s single and open. But she doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, maybe he just didn’t want her to feel bad for him.

Y/n’s package reveals a beach towel with built in sleeves, a front pocket and a hood. “This is really cute!” She beams as she holds it outwards toward the camera. Will grins as he places his hand on her shoulder.

“Try it on, try it on!” He chants, slapping the table. She chuckles as she pulls it on over her head, poking her arms through. It’s huge on her. “Don’t forget the hood-” He giggles as he yanks it over her head, the sheer size enveloping her entire face, causing him to burst out in his high pitched laughter. She sits still for a moment in silence for comedic effect before turning to face him slightly, still not uttering a word. It spurs him on even more, his laughs now emitting no sound at all. She just shakes her head at him, the crew also sharing a laugh. As he calms down, he gently moves the hood back to reveal her face. “Sorry love.” He utters cheekily, his hand moving down her back and out of view of the cameras. He gives her a gentle pat before placing his hands on his lap. She’s lucky she’s wearing a bad attempt at a pout, with a smirk sneaking in, otherwise her face would’ve given away her reaction to his gentle touches.

Will throws the collar to his left without looking. “My shitty collar can go in the bad bin, but this,” he grabs the sleeve of the towel hoodie, his knuckles lighting a small fire against y/n’s arm. “Can go in the good bin at £18.” He continues.

A couple of more expensive parcels get opened, including a Nerf gun, which Will uses to terrorise the camera men, and some fairly decent AirPod copycats. They also find more funny cheap items for the bad bin; socks with weird phrases on and a book on how to get lucky with women. Will holds the book up with a smirk. “I don’t need shite like this, I got y/n here on my natural charm alone.” He gestures towards her as she exaggerates a swoon. She wonders if he knows she means it deep down, watching his eyes and nose crinkle as he laughs with her.

The next two packages are definitely fun. Y/n opens to find a policeman costume, opting to put just the hat on while still wearing the towel-top, and tapping the plastic baton into her palm. Will salutes her and calls her ‘Officer Towelson’ before ripping his parcel open, to find a lacy black bra. “Ooh la la,” he murmurs as he holds it up to his chest.

“It’s your size!” Y/n jokingly gasps, Will giggles before getting an idea.

“Right.” He chucks the bra on the desk before whipping his black jumper off, the swift motion taking y/n by surprise, but she thinks fast.

“I can arrest you for indecent exposure ma’am.” She jabs in an authoritative tone. Will shakes his head with a big grin as he loops his arms through the bra, pressing the cups to his chest.

“Can ya help us with the back?” He asks, looking into her eyes with a slight hesitance, as if he didn’t think the question through. She obliges however, leaving the chair and standing behind him.

“Black’s really your colour.” She jokes to lighten the more… intimate mood, as Will frowns to the camera with confusion. Feeling the heat from Will’s skin, she struggles with the intricate hook design on the clasp. “What’s with this?” She mumbles out loud as she leans closer, still fumbling. Her breath caresses his shoulder blades, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand, and she notices. Will dips his head down, maybe thinking it’ll help her in some way, or maybe to hide any redness on his face from view.

“There.” She sighs with a relieved smile as she sits back down next Will. He looks down at his new lingerie and feels his chest again.

“I look like a cheap hooker.” Will states, “But the bra was 25 quid so it should go in the good bin.” There’s a long pause while y/n and the crew wait for Will to remove it, or try to.

Noticing the silence, Will looks around and realises. “Oh, I still want to wear it.” He grins, before leaning over to y/n. “It’s my colour after all.” He whispers with a wink. Thinking fast again, she gently taps him with her baton.

“Calm down missy, prostitution is a crime.” She sniggers.

Will pauses for a moment. “What has this video become?” He asks the camera, feigning disappointment while suppressing a smile.

After a few more parcels, Will declares it’s ‘fucking freezing’ and puts his jumper back on, over the bra. Y/n is still dressed as Officer Towelson, but with the new box Will opens, they both now occupy a fake moustache each from a party pack. Will’s is bushy, whereas y/n has a small handlebar moustache. The crew giggle at their looks as the pair turn to face each other. “Oh wow!” Y/n bellows and they both burst out laughing. As they calm down and shove the torn cardboard pieces onto the floor, Will shakes his head and sighs.

“You still look fit, mind.” He murmurs and her eyes widen. Still? She wonders. She shyly spins her baton in place on the table as they wait for their final parcels.

Hers is a small package, whereas Will’s is only slightly larger. They tear into them at the same time, y/n having lost her gentle touch from the before. They open a pack of fake piercings and a collection of multicoloured clip-in hair extensions. “Oh my god y/n, put ‘em all on me please.” He begs excitedly and almost aggressively. She giggles as she adjusts her moustache and gets behind Will again, attaching different strands to his mullet and draping them over his shoulders so they’re all in view. She hears him audibly sigh a shaken breath as her hands brush against the sides of his neck.

When she sits back beside him, she notices his bushy moustache is gone and he’s wearing a fake septum ring in its place, alongside two fake lip rings. “Can you put these on my ears?” He asks with a cheeky grin, handing over some clip-on dangly earrings and another fake hoop ring. She lets out a small laugh and shakes her head.

“Yes, Will.”

He turns more to face her directly as she easily clips the first earring to his lobe while he sits still with his eyes closed. He then turns his head so his other ear is more in reach, coincidentally shielding his face from the camera. She clips the other dangly earring with ease before looking from ear to ear. “Where do you want the last ring?” She asks.

“On the side here.” He replies softly, tapping the edge of his ear, just above where the lobe meets cartilage, with his head still turned away from the crew. As she leans closer to ensure she doesn’t nip him or pinch him, she notices his gaze flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes. She’s sure of it. They feel their breaths mix just as y/n’s certain the ring’s on comfortably and leans back slowly.

“Perfect.” She smirks, “You’re the prettiest hooker I’ve ever arrested.” Will laughs in response before gasping.

“Oh!” He exclaims before carefully removing his jumper again. The crew sniggering at the pair. Y/n, wearing a beach towel/hoodie, a police hat and a handlebar moustache; beside her is Will in a lacy bra, with fake piercings and kids’ rainbow extensions in his hair. “D’ya still have the nails?” He then asks.

“Oh yeah…” She reaches into her towel pocket and pulls them out, smirking at the camera. “This may take a while as we need to find which ones fit each nail.” She advises the camera and by extension, the crew. Will decides to dismiss them for a short break, even though they’re so close to finishing the recording. Everyone leaves the room except for the producer Olga who sips her iced coffee and scrolls through her phone. Still, the moment feels intimate.

“How’ve you found it so far.” Will asks quietly as he glances up at y/n’s face, double taking at the moustache and chuckling through his nose.

“So fun,” she beams in response as she empties the fake nails onto the desk, preparing to check each size.

“Yeah?” Will whispers, looking deeply at how her eyes wrinkle as she smiles.

“Absolutely, honestly I thought you’d be a grump with me like you are with James, so I was surprised.” She giggles. She holds a nail up to Will’s hand as he edges it closer to her.

“Well, we’ve been mates for a while, more like brothers.” He shrugs, watching her hands as they gently continue measuring. “It’s ya first time on the channel so I thought I’d better not be too mean to you.”

She raises her eyebrows, pausing to meet his gaze. “So you went easy on me, huh?” She smirks. His eyes dart down to her lips, licking his own instinctively as she continues comparing sizes.

“You could say that, yeah.” His pitch and volume low, noticing Olga leave the room out the corner of his eye, leaving the two alone.

“I don’t think you’re mean Will, I think you’re sweet.” She states bravely, also noticing it’s just the two of them. “I just need to apply these glue strips…” Will feels his face heat up at her compliment, pressing his hands firm to the table nervously as she applies the clear strips to each nail.

“And you’re just as entertaining and comforting as you come across online.” Will says, taking a small breath as she takes his hand, holding it in her own as she begins pressing on the nails. They’re soft and warm, contrasting the cooler air and rough lace against his chest.

“Comforting?” She questions, still holding his hand.

“Yeah. You’re like really comfortable to be around, I felt like I could be meself around you from the call alone.” He explains. She shoots him a sweet smile.

“Same to you actually.” She replies, with the final nail pressed on. She holds the plastic against his pinky fingernail as a silence falls over them. After looking at how nice Will’s hands are, her eyes flick up at his only to see he’s already looking at her. His gaze trails down to her lips as she watches his Adam’s apple bounce in his throat. She’s certain she can see him slowly lean forward but before she can confirm,

“How’s it getting on?” Olga asks as she reenters the room. Luckily she was looking down at her phone, so she didn’t notice the two’s faces being only inches apart. The pair sit back straight in their chairs as if nothing happened.

“Just got the last nail on now.” Y/n chuckles awkwardly as Will holds his hands out, admiring her work. The crew join them to film the outro.

“Thanks for watchin’ friends!” Will starts, gesturing his hands to ensure his new manicure will be noticeable to the viewers. “A massive thank you to y/n for making this fun and even more so for my new look!” He gestures towards his towel clad police friend.

“You look beautiful Will.” She grins, Will swishes a couple of the coloured extensions over his shoulder.

“Hey I like her!” He chirps to Olga, gesturing towards y/n with his thumb. “She’s far better than James. Let’s bar ‘im from the channel!”

———

“Nice work again guys, I’ll let you close up Will.” Olga calls to Will and y/n as she leaves the studio room with the other crew members, “See you later!”

“Bye, nice to meet you all!” Y/n calls out as she waves.

“Bye you lot!” Will chimes in. Now it’s just the two of them again, he turns to look at his fellow creator, shyness creeping over him. “So, that was definitely fun.”

“It really was, definitely the best first collab I’ve ever done!” She giggles, Will’s eyes widen as they both tidy up some more.

“What?! This is ya first collab?” He asks, his voice up an octave. She nods with an embarrassed smile.

“You’re a natural darlin’!” He squeaks, eliciting a laugh from her as she avoids his gaze. They put the last of the cardboard away. “Hey, you still wanna do something while the sun’s still out?” He asks sweetly.

“Of course, it’s so beautiful outside.” She replies, grabbing her bag.

———

The London breeze strokes their cheeks as they step onto the pavement side by side. The one good thing about rushing to record? There’s plenty of the day left to spend time together. Real time, in person, not hours of texting or chatting rubbish or planning meet ups over Discord. “You’re even better in person.” Will blurts out, realising how weird he sounds almost immediately, “I mean like, your personality and all that.” He clears his throat while she lets out a shy giggle. “Fuck, I just mean… I mean it’s nice to know it’s not all put on for YouTube. You’re genuine y/n.”

She chuckles some more, staring at the ground to avoid any eye contact. “Thanks Will, the same goes to you honestly.”

“Oh god, be honest now, what did ya really think I’d be like?” He dreads to ask.

“A miserable sod.” She quips back, a little too fast, eliciting a quiet but high pitched laugh from him.

“You cheeky bitch.” He shakes his head, keeping his hand in his pocket as he elbows her playfully. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to say stuff like that.”

They reach a small indie cafe, the smell of coffee beckoning them in. “Might as well,” Will shrugs, “didn’t get a chance to get a drink before recordin’.”

The pair order their typical go-to drinks and opt for a table by the window, it’s a little more secluded, and they get to people-watch passers by. Will begins telling her a funny anecdote about one of his earliest collabs with James, while y/n tries her best to focus 100% of herself on his words. It’s difficult though, her eyes keep wondering to his lips and chiselled jaw while he smirks, or the way his eyes squint shut when he laughs unapologetically, or his big hands when he gestures. “Have I lost ya?” He asks with a snigger.

She blinks and lightly shakes her head, realising she’d been staring. “No-no, you said he was being all smug. Carry on.” She’s right. Luckily she was still listening slightly, just a little captivated at the same time. It doesn’t stop her cheeks from burning up though.

“Right… ‘Cause for a minute there, I thought you were eyein’ me up.” He smirks, folding his elbows on the table and shooting her a confident yet almost challenging look. She’s so taken aback she nearly crushes the coffee cup in her grip.

“W-what?” She squeaks. Taking a sip to try and get away with saying nothing more.

“Yeah you were like, proper staring at me.” He mirrors her, also taking a drink. She pinches her lips between her teeth, watching his hand to avoid eye contact. “It’s alright if you were love.” He licks his lips as his eyes scan her up and down, his grin growing wider.

“I, um…” Her gaze meets his and she feels her hands clam up. “I guess… I’m sorry.” Is all she can let out.

“Don’t apologise, I’m flattered. It’s nice to know it’s not just me.” His eyes stay on hers as he reassures her, leaning more forward in his chair as he waves his hand nonchalantly.

“Not just you?” She questions, wiping her sweaty hands on her thighs.

“Exactly that, I’ve been checkin’ you out all day.” He chuckles shyly, looking down at his cup and saucer. “No point in hidin’ it, I’m only human. Look at ya.” He looks back up at her and gestures towards her beautiful flushed face. “Anyway where was I? Oh yeah James, the smug bastard…”

———

By the time the pair finished their drinks, an orange hue began cascading over the streets. Will can sure tell a story, but it kept y/n interested, even with the awkward intermission in the middle. Will waits for the barista to look their way before mouthing a polite request for their bill. She comes over and naturally places it in front of Will, alongside a couple of complimentary chocolate mints. He pays by card pretty quick and the barista takes away their cups, along with plates from the pastries the pair ended up having.

Y/n takes out her phone. “How much was my stuff again?” She asks, opening her banking app. Will reaches over the table, placing his hand over her phone, his fingers enveloping hers.

“Don’t be daft, it’s on me.” He smiles. His hand lingers on hers, and she wonders if the barista can sense the tension from across the cafe. After a little back and forth, y/n allows him to cover the whole cost and they leave.

“I can’t believe it’s still warm, the sun’ll be completely set soon.” Y/n chirps as they take a leisurely stroll.

“Maybe you’re just warm from sizin’ me up earlier.” Will shrugs, his head tilting slightly as he watches her reaction out the side of his eye.

“Stop it, you.” She laughs, her hand covering her shy smile.

“Ah just admit it y/n, you fancy me a bit.” He chirps as he wraps his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him and causing her to stumble as they walk. She steadies herself as she giggles, her hand instinctively resting against his belly. They stop walking and share a gaze. One that’s a little more unreadable. His face becomes more serious as he looks down at her. The near daily texts and voice notes, the silly selfies and memes shared, the Discord call that lasted seemingly forever - it all led up to now.

“Since our first call, I’ve not stopped thinking about meeting you properly.” He confesses, his voice low and soft. He notices the way the sunset reflects in her eyes, making them glow, as if the universe is telling him that she’s the one.

“I felt a connection just from text, but the video call was on another level.” He continues, his eyes wide as he gestures his hands even wider, almost in disbelief at his own words. “I knew I was in trouble already, and now...” He peers down at her again, a smile daring to tug at his lips, as he almost forgets how to speak.

Her eyes shimmer pinks and oranges as she hangs on to every word. Facing him fully and stood out the way of other pedestrians so their moment remains uninterrupted. “And now?” She repeats, her gaze glued to his lips.

Testing the waters, his fingers brush against her upper arm. She doesn’t step away or grimace, in fact she leans into his touch. “And now… like I said, even better in person.” He answers, his voice barely above a whisper. They stand in a peaceful silence as their eyes lock, a connection stronger than friends now established in an unspoken agreement. Will smirks. “So, do you fancy us?”

It’s brave but it feels like the right thing, she tugs at his jumper and pulls him down, connecting their lips as Will exhales a small squeak. The kiss lasts no longer than two seconds, a gentle peck as to not rock the boat. Will stands straight again, his lips still forming a slight pout as he registers what just happened.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He then quips, beaming as he watches y/n laugh. He reaches a hand out to cup her cheek, whispering a “C’mere you” as he leans down to plant a softer kiss to her lips. It’s gentle and affectionate, until things kick up a gear.

Her arms hug around his waist as his other arm wraps over her shoulder, pulling her flush against him as he tilts his head to deepen their kiss. He exhales a low hum against her lips as his thumb rubs gentle circles on her cheek. A passer by wolf whistles them, snapping them out of their makeout session. They pull apart and each catch their breaths as they start giggling.

Will’s smile only grows as he tugs her towards him once more, leaning down and pressing his forehead to hers. His hands slide down her arms and he weaves his fingers between hers. He sighs contently before asking: “D’you want to come back to mine tonight?”

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

Part 2?

A/n: Idk why I never noticed how yummy he is before... - Gabby xo

[octaneink]

Holy cannoli this is so cute

soft launching with will (baking edition)

note: can be interpreted as part of the hired and his type series but there's not much correlation between the two

yourusername ♫ Halsey - Now Or Never

liked by willne, jamesmarriottyt, and others

yourusername mama it's amazing what baking can do <3

view 183 comments

userone damn that shit looks good

usertwo drop the recipes ??

yourfriend my girl always cooking!!

userthree let her cook let her cook

yourusername added to their story

"hehe good morning! <3"

willne

tagged: yourusername

liked by yourusername, jamesmarriottyt, and others

willne don't ever let her cook

view all comments

userone bro is mad because she cooked harder than him damn

usertwo alright drop the second channel video already

yourusername it amazes me how someone can be so bad in the kitchen

userthree this is so domestic

yourusername added to their story

"update: it got worse don't ever let a man cook." tagged: willne

⤷ userone oh....

⤷ usertwo HOW DO YOU FUCK UP THAT BADLY ??? ITS COOKIES??

⤷ userthree oh girl how did he manage to do this 😭

yourusername ♫ Beach Bunny - Cloud 9

liked by willne, yourfriend, and others

yourusername lalala

view 239 comments

userone soft launch???

yourfriend girl what the helly is this

usertwo nahhh y/n whose legs and feet are those

userthree the song choice?

userfour date crumbs ??

willne

liked by yourusername, jamesmarriottyt, and others

willne recently

view 693 comments

userone WHO???

usertwo who is that in the second pic ?

jamesmarriottyt happy thursday!

userthree oh cmon you guys are not slick

willne and yourusername

tagged: yourusername

liked by yourusername, arthurtv, and others

willne cat's out the bag

view 488 comments

userone YOOOO

yourusername we are so hard (launch)

↳ willne i've had enough of you

usertwo omg second and third pics are so domestic

georgeclarkeey finally i can stop lying to people

arthurtv congrats i definitely had no idea!

userthree holy shit y/n lenney was real we were right

jamesmarriottyt y/n can i at least have him on the weekends?

↳ yourusername we can work out a joint custody agreement

↳ willne what

userfour AHHHH THEYRE SO CUTE TOGETHER

isaacwhy so when was i gonna be told

↳ yourusername mb

userfive james punching air rn

heheheh hope yall enjoyed this one just smth cute and simple :)

[octaneink]

First Light, First Flight

Will Lenney x Female!Reader

Summary: Will and the reader have to deal with flying for the first time with their children. It goes better than expected. Warnings: None! Notes: Part three of Super Trouper, based on this ask! I hope its what you were wanting and sorry this took so long! I think this is the end of the Airport Dad trope, I fear I have run this to the ground...

The kitchen hummed with a frantic, pre-dawn energy that felt at odds with the deep indigo pressing against the windows. 4:00 AM. Outside, the world was still asleep. Inside, the chaos of the preparation to leave for the airport was in full swing.

Worktops were buried under an avalanche of last-minute necessities. Lotion bottles, plasters, scrunchies, bibs, spare nappies, barf bags, and the ominous sprawl of multiple, heavily annotated packing lists. Will stood amidst it, cross-referencing them, a pen clenched between his teeth, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. The soft thump-thump-thump of the suitcase scale punctuated the quiet. He’d weighed them before bed. He’d weighed them after packing the toiletries. He was weighing them again.

"Did we pack the kids' Calpol?" His voice was tight, the question snapping out without him looking up from the digital display. "The tablets? Not the liquid. It would be easier, but we–"

He kept talking—half to you, half to himself—but your attention drifted. Noah had appeared silently at your side, his little body pressing into your leg like a barnacle. His wide eyes blinked up at you, lip wobbling, pyjamas rumpled from sleep. Pre-travel nerves had him wrapped tight. "I don’t want to fly, Mummy."

You sank to your knees and gathered him in, your arms forming a warm cocoon. His fingers clutched at your hoodie as you rocked gently, cheek resting against his soft, sleep-warmed hair. You whispered whatever came to mind, "I thought you were excited to go on a holiday? Think of it as just a big adventure, sweetheart," you murmured. "Like pirates in the sky. Maybe with snacks. Maybe a movie."

Behind you, Lily came clattering into the kitchen, already dressed and determined. At five, she’d made it her life’s work to imitate her father, and this morning was no different. "Mummy!" she declared urgently. "Trix needs his travel scarf! The silky blue one! He gets plane ears otherwise!" Trix, her well-loved rabbit, dangled from her grip by one ear, the poor thing already showing signs of long service.

You smoothed a hand down Noah’s back and looked over your shoulder at her. "It’s on your dresser, love. Remember? Daddy made sure it was ready for you last night."

She gasped as if remembering a crucial mission and took off again, little socked feet thudding down the hall.

Your eyes flicked to Will. Deep lines of concentration marked his face. His jaw was tight. He stared intensely at the suitcase. He was a portrait of quiet tension, the kind only you knew how to read. 

Still rocking Noah, you stretched one arm across the cluttered kitchen counter, fingers finding the familiar shape of Will’s travel vest. The many-pocketed monstrosity had started as a joke when Lily was born, jokingly saying he is officially an Airport Dad. You hadn’t expected him to actually wear it. But he had. Every trip since. And every time, you smiled.

You’d packed it the night before in a rare moment of quiet, a wordless offering. Cereal bars sorted by type in zip-locks, a travel pack of wipes in the side, and most importantly, everyone’s passports tucked safe inside the inner pocket. You knew he’d check for them compulsively, every time his hand wasn’t busy with something else.

You slid the vest across the counter toward him.  "Vests ready," you said simply. "Calpol’s in the side pocket. Blue box. EU-approved. I double-checked."

That cut through. Will looked up at last, eyes leaving the suitcase. He glanced at the vest, then at you. And in that small shift, the tight line of his shoulders eased just enough to breathe again. He picked it up and shrugged it on without a word, the weight of responsibility pressing back into his chest in a way that seemed to settle him.

He crossed the kitchen with purpose, still clinging to every step, but something in his face had shifted, the tightness around his eyes eased, and the weight of the morning was just a touch lighter. He leaned in close, and for a moment, everything else fell away. His hand found the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw as he kissed you, not rushed or distracted, but slow, warm, and grateful. A small pause in the chaos. His forehead lingered against yours for half a breath before he pulled back, brushing a kiss over your temple for good measure.

"Thank you, love," he murmured, voice low with something heavier than routine. 

Then he turned to Noah, crouching so they were face-to-face. He gently ruffled the boy’s soft hair, fingers lingering just long enough to reassure. "Alright, little man," he said, quieter now, "will you let Mummy get you dressed? Maybe some toast too, if you’re up for it. Bit of jam?"

Noah gave a small, sleepy nod, voice barely more than a whisper. "Yes, Daddy. That sounds good."

You scooped Noah into your arms, his small hands knotting in the fabric of your jumper as he rested his cheek against your shoulder. His skin was warm and soft with sleep, breath slow and even now that his world felt steadier. Will opened the hallway door for you, brushing his hand lightly against the curve of your back as you passed, and you carried your son upstairs, whispering quiet encouragements as you went.

It didn’t take long. 

Noah was pliant in your hands, docile as you guided his limbs through the soft cotton of his travel clothes. He grumbled only once when you tugged a sock too snug, but let it go the moment you kissed his temple. You smoothed his hair back, pressed one last gentle kiss to his crown, and took his hand as you returned to the kitchen.

The scent of toasting bread and freshly brewed tea already filled the kitchen, a comforting, familiar embrace. Will was at the counter, a quiet hum on his lips as he expertly stacked slices of golden-brown bread into the toaster, each one popping up with satisfying precision. The kettle rumbled softly behind him, a gentle prelude to the day. A pair of brightly coloured plates, adorned with cartoon characters, was already waiting on the small, round table, a pat of butter softening patiently in its dish beside them. He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips, as you stepped into the room, Noah nestled comfortably on your hip.

"The little man all set for the day?" Will asked, his eyes immediately dropping to Noah, a fond warmth in his gaze as he reached for a knife to spread the butter.

"Top to toe," you replied with a laugh, carefully settling Noah into his booster seat at the table. "He’s even got matching socks. The apocalypse must be close."

Will snorted quietly, a low, amused sound that vibrated through the cosy kitchen. "That’s definitely your doing, not mine." He winked, then gestured to the toaster. "Toast’s almost ready. Just in time."

Just then, THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD, the thunder of a pair of little feet hit the stairs.

The silence was obliterated by the sudden, unmistakable thunder of small feet hitting the wooden stairs at a gallop. "Mummyyy!" Lily’s voice, impossibly bright and chipper for the pre-dawn greyness clinging to the windows, echoed down the hall, cutting through the kettle's rumble. A heartbeat later, she exploded into the kitchen doorway.

She was dressed. Her favourite purple leggings firmly in place, topped by the slightly too-big rainbow shirt she adored. The clothes were on and on correctly, you’re taking that win. But the state of her hair told another story. Her riot of brunette waves exploded around her face like a dandelion caught in a gale, each strand stubbornly resisting the half-hearted swipes she’d attempted with her brush. Tucked securely under her arm, gripped with the fierce devotion only a child can muster, was Trix, who wore their own miniature blue scarf knotted under its chin.

"I’m hungry," she declared, bee-lining for the table, scrambled onto her bright green booster seat with practised ease, and immediately began swinging her legs with rhythmic, purposeful thumps against the chair legs.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, arms folded. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

"Morning!" she beamed back, utterly unbothered. Her bright blue eyes zeroed in on the activity at the toaster. "Is that toast?" The question was thick with hopeful anticipation.

"Fresh from the toaster," Will confirmed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he deftly caught the popping slices. He slid one onto the plate waiting beside Noah. The second slice landed on a clean plate, which Will placed with a soft clink in front of Lily. "Jam or no jam?"

You pushed off the counter, the brief moment of leaning over. Noah was already eyeing his untouched slice, tiny fingers flexing with anticipation. "Let's make that manageable for you, little man," you murmured, picking up the knife Will had used earlier. With quick, practiced motions, you cut the warm toast into small, bite-sized squares. Small enough for pudgy fingers to grasp safely. The buttery, toasted scent bloomed stronger as you worked. You nudged the plate closer to Noah’s highchair tray. "There you go, sweet pea. Careful, it’s warm."

Noah's eyes lit up. A chubby fist closed around a toast square, sending a few others tumbling. He brought it to his mouth with a determined, "Mmm!" Crumbs immediately dusted his chin as he gummed it enthusiastically, his little legs kicking beneath the highchair tray in a rhythm of pure contentment.

Lily leaned forward, practically vibrating with the importance of the decision. "Jam," she announced decisively. "Lots. The red one. Please." She tacked the politeness on like an afterthought, remembering just in time.

Will nodded with exaggerated solemnity, as if receiving vital instructions. He unscrewed the jar of vibrant strawberry jam, its sweet, fruity scent briefly overpowering the toast. He then spread a generous, glistening layer across the warm bread, ensuring it reached every corner. He then set the plate in front of her. "Red jam. Applied liberally. As commanded."

Lily snatched the plate, her face alight with triumph. "Fank you, Daddy!" she mumbled, already taking a huge, jam-smeared bite. The quiet kitchen was now officially a hive of activity. The rhythmic crunch of toast, Noah’s happy "Mmm!"s punctuated by the soft thud of dropped squares hitting his tray, the sticky sounds of Lily’s chewing, and the persistent thump-thump-thump of her swinging legs against the chair.

"Right," Will said, blowing out a breath that was half amusement, half fatigue. He deftly slid two more slices into the toaster and cranked the dial. "Our turn." He reached for the coffee pot and poured steaming amber liquid into two waiting mugs. 

"Perfect, thank you," you said, already reaching for the butter dish and the knife.

Will placed your mug beside you on the counter just as the toaster ejected the next batch with a decisive clack. You grabbed the hot slices. First, you focused on Will's a quick, smooth layer of butter melting instantly into golden pools across the warm surface. You slid the buttered slice onto his plate and nudged it towards him. Then, you turned to your own toast. Butter first, melting just as eagerly, was followed by a modest swirl of the vibrant strawberry jam from the open jar.

Will picked up his plate, leaning back against the counter beside you. But instead of taking a bite, he simply held it, his gaze resting on you expectantly, a faint, patient smile touching his lips. Steam curled from his coffee mug as he took a slow sip, waiting.

Understanding the unspoken ritual, you picked up your jam-topped toast. The warmth seeped into your fingers. You took the first bite of sweet jam, rich butter, and the satisfying crunch filling your senses. A soft hum escaped you.

Only then, seeing you begin to eat, did Will raise his plain toast to his mouth. He took a large, appreciative bite, the simple crunch echoing yours. He gave a small, contented nod, his eyes meeting yours briefly over the rim of his mug.

The last crumbs vanished, and the kitchen snapped into action. You stacked sticky plates under the warm stream of the tap, the scent of soap and toast-moistened porcelain rising as you scrubbed. Across the room, Will scooped Noah from his high chair, settling the baby against his shoulder with a practised heft.

“Teeth”, you called over the rush of water, nodding towards the hallway.

Will’s grin flashed, quick and bright. “Teeth”, he confirmed, already moving with Noah bouncing gently on his hip. “Operation Minty Fresh, recruit!” he declared to your drowsy boy.

After washing the dishes, you walked to the bathroom. Lily sat balanced on the edge of the counter, holding her small pink toothbrush tightly in her fist. She hummed a continuous, off-key sound while swinging her legs back and forth. Her bare heels bumped against the cupboard door below the sink with each swing. The tap dripped steadily behind her, each drop hitting the basin with a distinct sound that repeated at regular intervals.

“My turn, Mummy!” she announced, thrusting the brush towards you. You squeezed a tiny blue star of paste onto the bristles. Next to you, Will braced Noah against his chest, one large hand cradling the baby’s chin, the other wielding Noah’s tiny silicone brush with surprising delicacy. He worked in slow, patient circles over Noah’s few pearly teeth, murmuring low encouragement against the soft down of his hair. “Open wide, good lad. This will be quick.”

The air filled with the clean, sharp tang of mint, the clatter of running water as Lily enthusiastically rinsed, and the constant stream of her observations. “Noah’s paste is blue like Trixie’s scarf! Did you see the bird? My tooth is wiggly!”

Finally, damp faces glistened, more or less toothpaste-free. Will lowered Noah’s toothbrush. “All yours,” he said, his voice warm with the quiet satisfaction of a task completed. He shifted Noah’s weight, turning the baby towards you. You reached out, your hands meeting under Noah’s arms as Will smoothly transferred him from his chest to yours. Noah settled against you with a soft, doughy sigh, immediately tucking his face into the curve of your neck.

Now free, Will set Noah’s little toothbrush down on the edge of the sink with a decisive clink. You caught Lily’s chin with your free hand, the other securely around Noah, gently wiping a stubborn blue smudge from her cheek with a towel. “Smile,” you asked. She beamed at you and then hopped down. “Sparkling.”

Noah, now that he was settled against you, sighed contentedly again, his warm breath puffing against your skin. Will took a breath, shoulders squaring. The momentary calm of the minty bathroom evaporated, replaced by the focused energy of departure.

You moved first, shifting Noah’s warm, dozing weight against your shoulder. “Alright, Captain,” you said to Lily, nudging her gently towards the hallway. “Shoes on. Quick march!”

Lily scampered ahead, her humming dissolving into a focused scuffle with her tiny trainers near the doormat. “I can do the sparkly ones myself!”

Will moved instantly. He disappeared into the bedrooms and came back into the hallway seconds later, carrying multiple bags. The bulky diaper bag hung from one shoulder. He gripped Lily's small wheeled suitcase tightly. The large shared suitcase packed for you, him, and Noah dominated his effort. He gripped its handle with his other hand, tilting it back onto its wheels as he manoeuvred it through the doorway. His keys jingled in his pocket as he hurried past you towards the front door, his breathing already quick and shallow from the effort. "Car’s open!" he called out, the words sounding rushed and slightly breathless.

You followed, guiding Lily ("Heel down, sweetpea") while balancing Noah against your hip. Feeling the cool draught from the front door already, you knew shoes couldn't wait. "Shoe stop, little man," you murmured, lowering Noah carefully onto the hallway floorboards near the pile of tiny sneakers.

Noah swayed slightly on his feet, blinking sleepily. Instinctively, his chubby hands came up, gripping your shoulders for balance as you knelt before him. His weight settled trustingly into your hands. You quickly snagged his little blue sneakers. He didn't fuss, didn't squirm – just leaned into you, his eyelids heavy, his breathing soft and even as he watched your movements with drowsy curiosity. His socked foot was warm and pliant in your hand. You guided one foot, then the other, into the soft shoes, securing the Velcro straps snugly across the top with efficient rrrippp sounds.

"Good lad," you whispered, giving his knee a gentle pat. He offered a sigh, more puff than protest, as you scooped him back up, settling him securely on your hip once more. The cool morning air hit your faces as Will yanked the front door wide. Outside, the car waited, trunk lid gaping open.

Will efficiently began the Tetris game of luggage. Thump. Clunk. Slide. You heard the satisfying click of the suitcase handle retracting. Your focus was the back seat. You popped the rear door open.

“In you hop, Lily-bear,” you instructed, helping her clamber over the sill into her booster seat. Tiny fingers fumbled with the buckle’s clasp. “Mummy can help.” you murmured, leaning in, one hand still braced against Noah’s back. The familiar click-snick of the five-point harness securing her was a small victory.

Noah was next. You lifted his sleeping body. Getting him settled into the rear-facing car seat required careful steering in the confined space. You bent down, lowering him slowly into the padded seat, making sure his head didn't touch the frame. His eyes opened slightly, looking around with a dazed expression in the car's dim interior light. “Shhh, nearly there, little man.” you said quietly. You quickly pulled the harness straps over his shoulders, fastened the buckle across his waist, and pressed down firmly until the central buckle clicked loudly, matching the sound from Lily’s seat. You tightened the straps just enough, checking the fit with two fingers pressed flat against his collarbone. Pacifier? You found it and tucked it securely beside him.

Closing the rear door, you turned just as Will shut the trunk with a solid, final thump. He wiped his hands down his jeans, a quick and efficient gesture. His eyes scanned the car. He saw Lily swinging her legs, already chattering to Noah. He saw Noah, his pacifier bobbing slightly, his eyes drifting shut again. And he saw you, leaning against the side of the car, catching your breath.

He met your gaze across the roof of the car. A silent nod passed between you. All clear. All loaded. The calm before the actual journey began.

“Right,” Will said, the single word carrying the weight of miles to come. He yanked open the driver’s door. “Everyone buckled? Lily? Noah?”

“YES, DADDY!” Lily chirped.

Noah offered a sleepy sigh around his pacifier.

Will slid into the driver’s seat. You circled the car, the familiar scent of upholstery and stale crisps greeting you as you opened the passenger door. As you buckled your own seatbelt, the engine rumbled to life. Will adjusted the mirror, his gaze catching yours briefly in the reflection.

"Okay," he said, his voice steadier now, taking charge of the next phase. "Next stop, check-in." He pulled out of the garage, leaving the silent, dark house behind.

The roads were nearly empty, just the occasional set of headlights passing in the opposite direction. Streetlights blurred by in measured intervals. Will kept one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting loosely in his lap. The radio was tuned to a random news channel, low enough not to disturb, soft background noise for the drive. Nobody spoke much. Lily eventually dozed off, her head tipped sideways. Noah stayed awake but quiet, watching the lights flick past with that glassy-eyed focus of a child still shaking off sleep.

By 5:14 AM, they reached the long-stay car park. Will took the familiar turns without needing to think—right past the terminal, second exit off the roundabout, then into the multi-level structure. 

The machine spat out the ticket, which he grabbed without pausing, slipping it into the dash tray. “Blue level, Section D,” he muttered, squinting at the signage overhead. He slowed down, eyes flicking between painted arrows and numbered rows.

He pulled into a bay, straightened the car with a single neat adjustment, and turned off the ignition. The engine stilled. The quiet that followed was dense—not peaceful exactly, but purposeful. Outside, you could hear the distant echo of trolleys rolling and the thump of other boots on concrete.

Will rubbed a hand down his face, then turned to you.

“Okay”, he said. “Let’s get them out. We’re right on time.”

Will was out of the driver’s seat before the handbrake had even finished clicking. “Right. Operation Unload,” he said, already circling to the boot. The car beeped as he unlocked it, the sound sharp in the cold concrete stillness. The overhead lights buzzed quietly, casting everything in a pale, industrial glow.

He moved quickly, hauling out the largest suitcase first and setting it down with care. Then Lily’s smaller one, then the bulky, overpacked diaper bag. Everything went into a neat row at his feet like pieces on a game board. His hand went instinctively to his chest, tapping the front of his travel vest—checking, as always, that the passports were still tucked safe in the inside pocket. They were. 

You heard Noah start to fuss before you even opened your door.

Inside the car, he’d squirmed out of his blanket again, eyes heavy but still resisting. His head tipped sideways against the seatbelt strap, mouth pouty and determined. You knew that look well, not quite awake, not ready to sleep, and entirely overwhelmed.

“Mummy,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes furiously. “I don’t want to walk.”

“I know, sweetheart,” you said gently, unbuckling yourself. “We’re almost there. Just let me get you out.”

You stepped into the cold air, breath clouding faintly in front of you. On the other side of the car, Lily had already started to stir, half-asleep and clutching Trix to her chest.

“Are we getting on the plane now?” She asked through a yawn, her hair sticking out in every direction.

“Not yet, love. Just bags for now,” you said, opening her door. She reached for you automatically, and you helped her down, steadying her as she landed.

“Hold on to Trix,” you reminded her.

You rounded the car to Noah’s side. He didn’t resist when you unbuckled him, but his limbs were heavy with exhaustion. “Mummy,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m tired.”

“I know, baby.” You lifted him gently, and he immediately curled into your chest, small arms clinging tightly. “You can stay with me for now.”

Behind you, Will returned with a trolley, one wheel already squeaking in protest. He pulled it up beside the car, crouched briefly to adjust the strap, and began loading the luggage, big suitcase first, then Lily’s, then the diaper bag stacked on top. He clipped the itinerary card to the handle like it was a boarding pass itself.

“Trolley’s sorted,” he called softly. “How’s Noah?”

“Awake”, you said with a sigh. “But not really.”

“Right, we can get a move on then,” he said, checking the time on his watch. “Lift’s this way. Should give us twenty-three minutes to get to check-in before the queues get thick. We’re doing well.”

You adjusted Noah against your hip, his little body warm and slack with exhaustion. Will looked over and caught sight of you juggling both children and their accessories. His mouth quirked into the smallest smile, tight but warm.

“Alright”, he said, nodding once, “Everyone with me.”

The four of you made your way across the car park, the sound of the trolley’s rattling wheels echoing against the concrete. Lily walked close beside you, holding Trix in one hand. Will led the way, checking the signage above for directions to the terminal entrance.

A short covered walkway connected the parking structure to the main building. As you approached the sliding glass doors, the early morning cold gave way to warm, recycled air and soft overhead music. The lift to Departures was just ahead. Will pressed the button, then checked his watch. Still on schedule.

When the doors opened with a mechanical shudder, Will pushed the trolley in first, checking the weight as the wheels bumped over the threshold. You followed close behind with Lily at your side and Noah still resting against your shoulder, his grip around your neck now slack but steady.

Inside, the lift was filled with the soft sounds of Lily humming to herself and the quiet creak of the trolley wheels as Will adjusted his stance. He pressed the button for departures and checked his watch again. A low beep marked the floor change, and when the doors opened, the terminal loomed bright and buzzing beyond the glass.

It was just after 5:20 AM. The check-in queues were beginning to build, mostly other families and a few lone travellers clutching coffees and boarding passes.

“Let’s stick close,” Will said, already scanning the signage above. “Zone C, right-hand side.” His voice had that clipped edge it always got in airports—efficient, alert, already two steps ahead. 

This was his version of care. 

He led the way with the trolley, weaving around slower groups, occasionally glancing back to make sure you were behind him. Lily clutched your hand, skipping every few steps despite her sleepy eyes. Noah had grown heavier on your hip, but you kept moving.

At check-in, Will had the documents out before the desk agent could even ask. He handed over passports, booking references, and a plastic wallet containing printouts of every relevant confirmation.

“All checked in online, but we’ve got hold luggage,” he said, voice polite but efficient.

The woman behind the desk smiled, clearly familiar with this type of traveller. She processed the bags and handed back the passports in a neat stack.

“You’re all set. Boarding gate will be announced at 6:15.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” Will slipped the documents back into his vest pocket, then turned to you and the kids. “Security next. Is everyone still holding together?”

You nodded. Noah hadn’t stirred much. Lily gave a soft “Mmhm”, still gripping Trix.

Will steered them toward security with purpose, slowing only once to guide Lily ahead of a meandering group of students.

“Shoes off, liquids out, tech in the trays,” Will murmured, scanning the area ahead. His eyes moved between lanes, looking for the one with the least traffic. “Far left looks quiet. Let’s take that one.”

You followed him to the end of the checkpoint, Lily close behind, holding Trix by the arm. Will reached into his travel vest, pulled out the boarding passes, and handed them over to the staff member with a quick nod. After a brief check, the scanner cleared all four of you.

He turned to Lily and crouched down.

“Alright, remember what we do here? Shoes and jacket in the tray, and Trix goes through the machine. She’ll be right there waiting for you.” Lily nodded seriously. She kissed Trix on the head, then carefully placed her in the tray, followed by her shoes and jacket.

You crouched slightly to speak to Noah, who was clinging to your neck. “Sweetheart, we’re nearly done. Just a quick step through, and then we can rest.”

Will moved beside you and set down the changing bag. He unzipped the bag, pulled out the laptop, and placed it in a separate tray. Then came the liquids pouch, followed by his phone, keys, and wallet. He took off his belt and vest, folded them neatly, and added them to the tray. He made sure everything was visible and correctly spaced, then pushed the trays forward along the rollers.

“Alright,” he said, straightening up. “Give him to me.” You shifted Noah into his arms. He adjusted his hold automatically, settling the boy on his hip. Noah tucked his face into Will’s shoulder, silent but awake. “You go through first,” Will said, nodding to the scanner. “I’ll follow with him once you’re clear.”

You stepped through without issue. On the other side, you waited while Lily came through next. She walked slowly, sock-footed and careful, eyes fixed on the tray holding her toy. Once through, you helped her get her shoes back on and slipped her arms into her jacket. Trix reappeared on the conveyor, and Lily collected her immediately, checking she was still warm and intact.

You looked up as Will walked forward, still holding Noah. The security officer gave him a brief look and gestured for him to proceed. He stepped through the scanner without pause, one hand steady under Noah’s legs.

On the other side, he set Noah gently on the bench and turned back to retrieve the trays. He moved quickly, placing each item back where it belonged. He passed you the changing bag and double-checked that nothing had been left behind. Then he looked at you, eyes alert but calm.

“Everything’s here. We’re good.”

Lily held tight to your hand, Trix tucked securely under her arm. Noah leaned into Will’s leg, eyes fluttering. You adjusted the strap on your bag.

He shifted Noah higher on his hip, the little boy's head resting heavily against his shoulder. Passing you the changing bag, his free hand double-checking the area with a quick sweep. Then he looked at you, eyes alert but calm over Noah's sleepy head.

“Good job, team,” he said, glancing back at you. “You handled security like pros. Now we just need to find a bench,” Will said.

You nodded, and the four of you walked away from the checkpoint, the sound of rolling trolleys and security announcements rising behind you.

The seating area beyond security was quieter than expected, with pockets of travellers scattered across benches and near charging stations. A few early shops had opened their shutters, their displays flickering to life in the artificial morning.

Will spotted a quieter corner by the far windows, half-shielded by a structural column. “There,” he said, steering toward it without needing to discuss. You followed, grateful for the pause.

He set the changing bag down at the foot of the bench and eased Noah onto the seat beside him, propping him up gently. The boy blinked slowly, thumb finding its way to his mouth as he slumped sideways against Will’s arm.

You helped Lily wriggle out of her jacket. She settled next to you, swinging her legs while holding Trix tight. Her shoes were still slightly crooked, but you let it be.

Will glanced at the nearby screens. “Gate info in twenty. We’ve got time to regroup.”

You nodded, already pulling out a small packet of wipes to clean Lily’s hands. She held them out obediently, fingers splayed.

“Do we get snacks now?” she asked, eyes drifting toward a nearby vending machine glowing faintly in the early light. Her voice was soft but hopeful, the way it always was when she suspected the answer might not go her way.

“We had breakfast,” Will said gently, but not unkindly. “We’ll get something on the plane if we need it. This is just a rest stop.”

Lily’s shoulders dipped just slightly. “Okay,” she sighed, hugging Trix tight into her chest. The toy’s soft ears stuck out awkwardly under her chin. She didn’t argue, just leaned her head against your arm with the quiet resignation of a child trying to be good.

You smoothed a hand down her hair. “You did great at security, by the way. Trix didn’t even mind the tray, did she?”

“She was brave,” Lily said, perking up a little. “She said the machine tickled.”

Will smiled faintly at that. He was kneeling in front of the bench, re-fastening Noah’s little shoes, the velcro barely holding with how limp the boy had gone again. “I’m sure it did,” he said, glancing up at Lily. “Tell her thanks for getting through so quickly. She helped keep us ahead of schedule.”

Lily gave a serious nod. “She likes being helpful.”

You reached for your water bottle and offered it to Noah. He took a small sip without lifting his head and then handed it back wordlessly. You capped it and returned it to the side pocket of the bag.

For a few minutes, none of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—just quiet, a collective exhale after the early push.

Will leaned back slightly, scanning the space. “Once we’ve got the gate, we’ll head straight there. No detours.”

You nodded. “Do you want me to take Lily and stretch legs?”

He considered, then shook his head. “Let’s just stay here. Everyone’s calmer when we move together.”

You looked at him then—his posture alert but not tense, his hand resting absently on Noah’s back. His vest was zipped again, documents back in order, watch synced with the flight time. Always watching the clock, always running the plan.

“Thanks for getting us through,” you said softly.

Will glanced over, the corners of his mouth twitching into something close to a smile. “You’re the one juggling our children, a bear, and me,” he said. “I just followed procedure.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Still.”

He didn’t answer right away, just looked at you for a moment longer, the kind of look that wasn’t loud or dramatic but landed anyway—grateful, worn in, knowing.

“Alright,” he said finally, voice low. “But if this goes sideways at the gate, I’m cashing in that compliment.”

“Deal.”

He sat back a little, adjusting Noah’s weight as the boy stirred and shifted against his chest. One hand came up to shield Noah’s head from the bright overhead lights, a small, unconscious gesture. The rest of the terminal buzzed with quiet motion—early travellers rustling bags, distant announcements barely audible—but for a moment, it felt like just the four of you.

You let yourself lean back against the bench, hand resting on Lily’s knee, and let the terminal buzz move around you. For now, you were still.

Together.

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You ate again with this Will fic ❤❤ you're the best Willne writer on this app

Aw shucks thank you! Thats a high praise honestly. Thank you for thinking of my work so highly🩷🩷🩷

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ZOOOWEEEMAMA OMG, YOU WROTE THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE PERFECTLY, SENSATIONAL, CHEFS MF KISS. i just wow. you amaze me every time. LOVE YOU XOXO 😘

i hope both sides of your pillows are cold 😜🙏

EHEHEHEEHEHE IM SO HAPPY THAT YOU LIKED IT!!!!

MWAH 💋💋💋

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hii hope ur okay!! just checking in on my request about long distance with Arthur F? no rush for it or anything im just gagging for him rn HAHAHA

love ur work as always <333

Hey! Thanks so much for checking in about your request. Just to be upfront—I’ve only got a rough draft right now. It’s mostly bullet points and a general outline of what I want to do with it, including the parts you asked for.

Also, you're third in my queue at the moment, so it might be a bit before I can really lock in and post your request. Life’s been keeping me pretty busy lately, so I really appreciate your patience.

If the wait feels too long, I totally understand if you’d prefer to ask another writer to take it on, I don't mind! 🩷

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everything ok with you? there's no new posts in a while

Hi! Thanks for checking in, sorry I haven't posted in a while. But things have been busy in my work life so I get home tired.

But I have been doing one or two sentences some days for a fic I plan to post this evening so keep an eye on it! And sorry if it's messy I've been picking up and dropping it.

Please be patient with me 🙏 things are busy and won't really even out until September (if I'm lucky) so unless people want something shorter I can do that I suppose...

[octaneink]

This is exactly what it looks like

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Summary: You go against your agreement with Will, and you find that your actions do in fact have consequences (in the best way) Warnings: Sexual themes (walking in, edging, going raw and cumming raw, wear condoms gang🤙) If I missed any tags please tell me! Notes: Enjoy 😉 This is what I mentioned being in my drafts here. I hope its to your liking! And I apologise for taking so long to write this, life was in the way.

Rain tapped a lazy rhythm against the windowpane. Dusk settled soft and blue around the edges of the flat. Golden lamplight gilded the bed where you were curled into the worn dip of the mattress, your back tucked snug against Will’s solid warmth. Propped against the headboard, he had one arm slung loosely around your waist, the other holding a dog-eared paperback.

You were both lost in your own books, the silence gentle and companionable, broken only by the occasional rustle of a turned page and the distant hush of rain-soaked streets below.

It was deeply ordinary. Blissfully so.

You shifted slightly, stretching one leg beneath the soft duvet, your worn t-shirt riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin. Will’s thumb, resting idly against your hip where his arm held you, traced slow, absent circles over the newly revealed skin. It wasn’t purposeful, just a quiet, grounding touch. A small, steady reminder that you were there, together, warm in the soft hush of evening.

Turning a page in your book produced a crisp sound in the quiet room. Will shifted behind you, closing his book with a soft thump and setting it aside on the night stand. He stretched his free arm over his head with a small groan, the movement shifting you gently against him. His thumb stopped its idle tracing, instead pressing more deliberately now against the curve of your hipbone.

“Comfy?” he murmured, his voice low and rough with disuse, still carrying the relaxed beat of the quiet afternoon.

“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement, tilting your head back slightly to rest against his shoulder, not bothering to look up from your own page. “Absolutely.”

His hand slid a little lower, his fingers splaying possessively over the thin cotton covering your stomach. The warmth remained, the comfort lingered, yet the air itself seemed to thicken, charged with a sudden, silent static. He was quiet for a long moment. Then, his voice was still casual, almost conversational, but layered with an intent that hadn’t been there a minute ago. “So,” he began, the word a soft puff of air that stirred the fine hairs at your temple, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. “Random thought.” He paused for a beat. “What happens,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register that vibrated through the point where your back met his chest, “if I come home early one day and find you?”

You paused, your finger resting on the edge of your page. “What do you mean? Find me what?” you asked, keeping your tone light, matching his casualness, though a flicker of awareness sparked low in your belly. This felt different from the sleepy cuddle.

“Find you,” he repeated, his palm pressing slightly but firmly below your belly button. The pressure, combined with the low gravel in his voice, punched the air from your lungs in a silent gasp. “Occupied. Lost in your own little world.” A beat, heavy with implication. “Touching yourself.”

The words landed in the quiet room like stones dropped into still water. The ordinariness shattered. For a moment, you didn’t move—then, slowly, you closed your book, trying to appear nonchalant. But your hands betrayed you, trembling faintly as you set it aside on the bed beside you. The rain outside suddenly sounded louder. Then his hand shifted. The pad of his thumb slid back to the exposed strip of skin near your hip, but this time, it didn’t stop there. His index and middle fingers joined, slipping deliberately under the hem of your shirt. Cool air brushed your stomach as the fabric rode higher, followed by the searing trail of his fingertips on bare skin. They traced a deliberate path upward, just beneath your ribs, circling the sensitive dip where your waist curved. Not absent. Very, very present.

Heat scorched a path up your neck, flooding your cheeks, but you held your ground. Leaning back deliberately into the solid wall of Will’s chest became an anchor, a way to borrow his steadiness against the sudden tremor threatening your limbs. “Touching myself?” The words came out, aiming for airy indifference, but the slight hitch in your breath betrayed you.

“Yeah.” The single syllable vibrated through your spine. His breath warmed the back of your neck. “Caught red-handed. In the act.” A deliberate pause, thick with implication. “What then?”

You swallowed, the sound loud in the sudden, crackling silence. The cosy comfort was incinerated, replaced by a heavy, electric charge that thickened the humid air. “Guess I’d be in trouble?” The question was tossed out, testing the waters.

Against your hair, you felt the slow, unmistakable curve of his smile. Satisfaction radiated from him. “Deep trouble,” he confirmed, his voice a dark velvet rasp against your ear. It wasn't just a statement. It was a promise. “Serious consequences. Think you could handle them?” His murmur was intimate, dangerous.

The question hung, suspended in the charged atmosphere. His fingertips traced a slow line just inside the waistband, a silent, relentless promise of what 'consequences' might entail. Your forgotten book in your lap felt like a relic from another world, heavy and utterly insignificant. “What kind?” The words escaped as a breathless whisper, the act of nonchalance stripped away. Your focus narrowed to the searing path his fingers were carving on your skin.

He shifted closer, the sudden wall of his heat enveloping you, stealing the air from your lungs. His lips brushed the pulse point beneath your ear, and your breath hitched, sharp and audible, as goosebumps erupted across every inch of your skin. “Picture it,” he murmured, the vibration of his voice resonating deep in your bones, making your head tilt back instinctively, baring more of your throat in permission.

“Fingertips slick, breath hitching, teetering right on the razor's edge.” His words painted the agonisingly vivid image, sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. His spare hand slid down, down, a slow, deliberate path that traced fire across your side. When his fingers brushed the bare skin of your thigh just below the hem of your shorts, your muscles clenched involuntarily. You gulp lightly. His touch felt electric, sensitising your skin until even the air felt like too much.

He paused, letting the image sear itself into your mind. “And I stop you. Cold.” The possibilities bloomed in your mind—sharp, vivid, dangerous. The jolt of discovery. The sudden, exquisite denial. That coiled tension, like a spring pulled to its breaking point, held in place by nothing but his will. 

“I,” You faltered, breath catching, thoughts stalling under the weight of sensation. “I’d hate that,” you whispered. But already you felt it, the ghost of the ache, the throb that bloomed low and deep, painfully sweet in its absence.

“Exactly.” His lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear, the kiss lingering, deliberate. “Punishment fits the crime, trouble.” His voice painted a beautiful picture in your mind. “You touch without permission? I own the finish. When you get it. If you get it.” His teeth scraped your earlobe, a sharp jolt. “Maybe I let you writhe. Maybe I make you plead until your voice cracks.”

The comfortable bed now felt like a raft adrift on a treacherous sea. “And if I say stop?” The question was your lifeline, tossed into the gathering storm.

His hand froze instantly, a statue against your skin. “Then everything stops. Instantly. Always. 'Red' is absolute.” He pressed a kiss, startlingly tender, to your temple—a stark contrast to the horny promise. His next words, however, held a different kind of certainty, intimate and knowing. “But you won't. Not for this.” His thumb stroked your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his burning intensity. “You crave the punishment, darling. Almost as much as I crave watching you take it.”

It wasn't a question. He saw the answer in your stillness, the rapid pulse fluttering in your throat. You managed a tiny nod and a steady “Okay”.

“Deal,” Will declared, the word final. He pulled back just enough to turn you slightly towards him, his eyes capturing yours in the dim afternoon light. They held no trace of the lazy reader now, only intense, focused heat. “Just remember,” he said, his thumb stroking your jawline. “I always know.” He settled back against the headboard, pulling you firmly against him again, and your mind drifts.

You hadn’t meant to.

Truly.

It began innocently enough—a relaxed afternoon, the flat steeped in the kind of quiet that amplifies every breath. The lingering scent of damp pavement drifted through the slightly open window, mingling with the faint, ghostly trace of his cologne on the pillow beside you. He wasn't due back for hours. His text confirmed a late flight, delays expected. Time stretched, languid and empty. Too empty. The book slipped from her fingers, forgotten on the rumpled duvet.

The agreement. That charged pact sealed in lamplight weeks ago. It had receded, it felt like a half-remembered dream. Buried beneath the mundane reality of solo meals, silent evenings, and the exhausting updates about his delayed flights, traffic, and frustrating shoots. The certainty of his absence, the sheer improbability of him walking through that door early, had erased it completely. It wasn't defiance, it was simple, unthinking forgetfulness.

But your breath hitched, shallow and quick. Fingers, seemingly of their own accord, traced idle paths that grew bolder, seeking warmth, seeking more. Eyes closed, you arched into the empty air, conjuring the solid heat of his chest against her front, the possessive grip of his hands replacing her own. Lost. Utterly lost in the friction, the gathering tension coiling tight and sweet, narrowing the world to the thrumming pulse beneath your skin.

The front door opened. A soft, almost sighing sound.

Nothing.

You didn’t hear the suitcase thud dully against the floor. Didn’t register the low murmur of her name, rough with travel fatigue and longing, swallowed by the roaring silence of her own need. Didn’t remember the promise, the threat, the deliciously dangerous game.

Not until the old floorboard groaned its betrayal just beyond the bedroom doorway.

Not until the air shifted, thickened by a presence that wasn’t yours.

Not until the low, utterly unmistakable exhale, sharp with realisation, thick with intent cut through the fragile bubble of your solitude.

And by then.

Fuck.

By then, it was far, far too late.

The flat was dim and quiet, golden evening light spilling through the blinds. Will stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped his suitcase by the door with a dull thud, the weight of the day—and the flight—finally slipping from his shoulders. The trip had been hell. 

Delays, turbulence, too much recycled air, and not enough sleep. But through every mile, through every miserable minute, there had only been one thought looping in his mind, getting home. Getting to her.

“Love?” he called out, voice low and a little hoarse, the word thick with longing as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the nearest chair. He bent down, fingers fumbling slightly with stiff laces before finally toed off his worn shoes, leaving them beside the suitcase. They landed with a soft thump.

No answer.

A flicker of disappointment, quickly smothered by fond anticipation, warmed his fatigue. She must be napping, or engrossed in something. A lazy grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he imagined her. Curled like a cat on the sofa, swamped in one of his oversized hoodies, probably absorbed in some gloriously trashy reality TV marathon, her brow furrowed in concentration. Or maybe, just maybe, he could sneak up on her, and she’d launch herself into his arms with a delighted squeal, just like in those cheesy rom-coms she secretly adored. The image fueled him, pushing back the exhaustion.

With socked feet, he padded softly down the short hallway, the cool wooden floorboards smooth beneath his tired feet. The air felt denser here, charged with the quiet intimacy of their shared space. His grin widened slightly, picturing her surprise.

But the sound that greeted him wasn’t the TV.

It was a soft, breathy moan.

Will froze mid-step, heart catching. It came again, quieter this time, drawn out, like the echo of a dream. His breath hitched slightly, a sharp, involuntary intake that felt too loud in the stillness. Then it bloomed, a sudden, unexpected warmth, unfurling low in his belly.

He moved silently now, drawn forward by instinct, by gravity, by want. His fingers brushed the wall as he reached the bedroom door, which was cracked just wide enough to offer a glimpse of golden light and shadow. The moan came again sharper this time, followed by a wet, rhythmic sound that sent a jolt through him.

He stepped closer, opened the door to their bedroom.

And there she was.

Head thrown back against the pillows, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as breathy, broken moans spilled from her throat. Her panties lay crumpled on the floor beside the bed. One hand lay draped over her thigh, nails digging faint crescents into flushed skin. The other was buried between her legs, fingers already slick, already deep inside her.

The soft, wet sounds of her pleasure filled the quiet room. With every stroke, there was a faint, delicious squelch, her arousal coating her fingers and thighs in a glossy sheen. Her outer lips were swollen and glistening, open and aching, slick with desire. Two fingers slid in and out of her steadily. He could imagine them curling upward each time to graze that aching spot inside.

She moaned, breath catching as her thumb ground against her clit, pressing, circling, dragging over the swollen nub in slow, relentless pulses. Every movement was deliberate, though he could guess she would start to become desperate soon.

Her breath caught. Her thighs trembled. She was utterly lost in it, body arching with need, unaware of anything beyond her own rising pleasure. 

She hadn’t even heard him come in.

A low whistle sliced through the wet rhythm. “Busy?”

Your eyes snapped open. Will leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. His gaze was fixed unwaveringly between your legs, where your hand was frozen, buried in your own wet heat. Humiliation warred with the relentless ache. You tried to cover up, but his voice, velvet over steel, stopped you.

“Uh-uh. Don't cover up.” He pushed off the door, prowling closer. The mattress dipped under his weight as he knelt between your splayed legs. His knuckles brushed the inside of your thigh, sending a jolt straight to your core. “Told you to wait, sweetheart.” His thumb found your clit, a feather-light circle that made your hips jerk and a desperate whimper escape. “Didn’t I?”

Shit. 

You knew you were in trouble. The second you met, his eyes were dark, focused, utterly fixed between your legs. That teasing smirk curved his lips, infuriatingly confident. Predatory.

“Will, please." You didn’t even know what you were begging for—release, mercy, or more.

"Please what?" His voice was a low purr, dark velvet laced with amusement. He leaned down, the heat of his breath blooming against your inner thigh, a shocking counterpoint to the cool air on your damp skin. "Please let you finish what you started without me?" His thumb, a maddening point of pressure, vanished. Before the protest could form, his tongue replaced it with a broad, devastatingly wet stripe laving your clit. The sensation stole your breath, your spine arching violently off the bed, a silent scream locked in your throat as you chased the contact.

He pulled back instantly, effortlessly evading your desperate seeking. A low chuckle vibrated against the tender skin he'd just abandoned, sending fresh shivers cascading through you. "Patience, trouble," he murmured. His eyes, locked on yours now, held the terrifying, exhilarating certainty of a hunter who'd cornered his prey. "We’re just getting started."

That was the game. Agonising, exquisite torture—drawn out by the hands and mouth that knew your body too well.

He started with his fingers. Two of them sinking in slowly, thick and deliberate, stretching you open with a smooth drag that made your breath catch. He knew exactly where to touch—angling them just right until they found that sweet, aching spot deep inside. When he curled them, slow and sure, your body reacted instantly—your cunt tightening around him, a helpless clench like your body was trying to pull him in deeper.

His palm settled over your clit, the pressure maddeningly light at first. Just a brush, enough to spark, not satisfy. Then a slow, grinding motion that sent a full-body shiver rolling through you. Your thighs jerked. A low, breathless moan escaped your lips.

“No,” he said quietly. “Stay still.”

You whimpered. The pressure was building fast—thick and molten, curling low in your belly. Your body was taut, strung tight, every nerve lit up and screaming for more. The pleasure was heavy now, insistent, coiling tighter with each stroke of his fingers inside you.

Your breath came in ragged gasps. Your toes curled into the sheets. Your back arched as your body begged to crest, muscles trembling, clit pulsing under his palm.

And then—he stopped.

Everything.

His fingers stayed inside you, deep and unmoving. But the motion was gone. The heat of his palm lifted from your clit. His breath, that humid warmth between your thighs, vanished like it had never been there at all.

Your whole body bucked involuntarily. Your hips tried to chase him again, but his arm held you down, the pressure on your waist firm, immovable. You let out a strangled cry, frustration knotting in your chest. Your cunt fluttered uselessly around his fingers, still filled but empty of movement.

A broken sound caught in your throat as the tension twisted tighter. “Will,” you gasped. “Please, I—I need it—please.” The emptiness of it made you dizzy.

"Not yet," Will murmured, his voice warm but firm, lips brushing your ear. “You don’t get to come just because you want to.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. Everything inside you was trembling. You could feel the flush crawling up your chest, your pulse hammering so hard it hurt. The edge loomed so close you could taste it—sharp, hot, and unbearable—but he was holding you right there, just shy of it. Keeping you suspended.

You couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop the breathless whimpers spilling from your lips. “Please, Will,” you gasped, turning your face toward his. “Please let me come, I swear I won’t do it without you again—just—please." He looked down at you, eyes dark and impossibly soft. Not cruel. Not mocking. Just steady. Watching your need bloom raw and unfiltered across your face. 

“I know it’s hard,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I know how badly you need it.” His fingers flexed ever so slightly inside you—a small shift that made your whole body seize with a gasp. “But I want you right here a little longer.”

You whimpered, half a sob, half a plea. Your hands gripped the sheets like you could hold yourself together with them. Every nerve was lit up and screaming. The pressure was unbearable—full and aching, like your body had curled itself around the want and didn’t know how to uncurl.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing your jaw, then lower, his breath hot on your neck. “Just hold on for me.”

His fingers began to move, slow and deep, curling with each pass to drag right over that tender spot inside you. His mouth descended between your legs, tongue licking a firm stripe over your clit before circling it. The edge crashed back over you, harder than before. Too much. Not enough. You were right there—and again, he stopped.

The sudden stillness made you sob, a sound caught somewhere between grief and desire.

“Good job,” he whispered, lips brushing your thigh, voice full of heat and praise. “You’re doing so fucking well.”

And still, he wasn’t done.

His mouth was on you again, his tongue flattened over your clit in a long, steady lick, then circled with slow, maddening control. You cried out, your hands flying to his hair, trying to hold him there, keep him from slipping away again. The edge hit fast and brutally, slamming through you like a wave you'd been bracing against for too long.

But again. He paused. Just enough to make your heart stutter.

“Will—please,” you sobbed, your voice unrecognisable, hoarse with need. “Please, I can’t—please don’t stop, I’m begging—”

He lifted his head just enough to look up at you. “I know,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, like relief. “You’ve waited long enough.”

Then he gave you everything.

His mouth sealed over you, tongue stroking, lips sucking with perfect rhythm. His fingers never lost their pace—slow, deep. And this time, when the pressure built, he didn’t let up. He pressed into it, pushed you over it, and held you through it.

Your body seized, back arching off the bed as the release hit you like lightning—blinding, shattering. You came with a groan, the sound torn straight from your chest, every muscle locking around the sudden flood of pleasure. Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, soaking him, trembling through wave after wave as your thighs shook uncontrollably.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All you could do was feel.

He stayed with you through every second—his mouth gentle now, kisses soft and slow between your legs, his fingers easing out as your body twitched, overstimulated and wrecked. His hand found yours, grounding you, lacing your fingers together.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, chest heaving as sweat cooled against your flushed skin. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—only exist in the raw aftermath, limp and twitching, your body boneless beneath him. When you finally blinked your eyes open, your chest still rising in ragged breaths, he was there—watching you, brushing damp hair from your face with such quiet tenderness it nearly undid you all over again.

“You did so good,” he said softly. “So fucking good for me.” You barely had time to breathe, to come down from the high still crashing through your body, when you felt him shift above you. The air between you changed—thicker, heavier. His mouth brushed your inner thigh, then again, higher this time, his lips reverent against skin still flushed and trembling.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, more to himself than you, his voice rough with restraint. “So fucking beautiful like this. I can’t believe I got you to this point.”

Then he moved.

His hands slid beneath your waist, strong and steady, and with an effortless pull, he dragged you toward him. Your slick skin caught on the sheets as he repositioned you, and the overstimulation made you involuntarily gasp. Still, your body followed the pull, pliant and willing.

He lifted you easily, one arm supporting your hips as the other grabbed a pillow and tucked it beneath your lower back. The angle shifted everything. Your legs fell open, limp with exhaustion, but your core pulsed with renewed want. The air on your wet skin felt cool, your thighs sticky, your cunt aching and swollen from everything he’d already done.

You felt bare. Exposed. Ready.

Will knelt between your spread legs, cock thick and flushed and glistening at the tip. He took himself in hand, lining up with your swollen entrance, and your breath caught, anticipation and helplessness crashing together in your chest.

He held still for just a second, eyes locked on yours, waiting. “You still want this?” he asked, low, almost hoarse.

You nodded before the words even formed. “Please.”

That was all it took.

With one smooth, claiming thrust, he sank into you.

The stretch was immediate and staggering, and you cried out, a choked, pitched moan that barely sounded human. He slid in to the hilt, the head of his cock pushing into the deepest parts of you with almost laughable ease, your cunt still soaked and twitching from your release.

“Fuck, you’re so warm,” Will groaned, his hips snapping against yours. He leaned down, teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder, not breaking skin but leaving the sharp promise of possession. “Take it. Take every inch.” He shifted, angling deeper, hitting a spot that made white sparks burst behind your eyelids. “Going to fill you up.”

He began to move slowly for the first thrust, just enough to let you feel the stretch, the weight of him filling you. Then faster, deeper, until his hips were snapping forward with brutal precision. Each time he sank into you, a breathy moan tore from your throat—sharp, high-pitched, completely helpless. Your cunt, still soaked and overstimulated, gripped him with desperate tightness, clenching down around every thick vein, every hot throb. You were wrung out and twitching, your muscles too spent to fight the way your hips tilted up to meet each thrust, a raw, instinctive plea for more, even as your brain scrambled to keep up. An ahh—every time he bottomed out. Hhm—fuck—ahhh—as his cock dragged across that tender, aching spot with maddening consistency.

You could see yourself, just barely, your head tilted back far enough to catch the motion of your own body. Breasts bouncing with each hard thrust, the slap of skin punctuated by the sway and jolt of them in rhythm with his pace. The pillow beneath your hips arched you up perfectly, your legs splayed open around him, making everything feel that much deeper, more obscene.

“F-fuck—” you gasped, voice cracking. Your hands clutched uselessly at the sheets, searching for something solid. “Will—”

You couldn’t keep up.

“Shhh,” he panted, low and ragged, his fingers biting into the soft curve of your waist. “You can take it. Look at you. Taking every inch.”

You looked at him above you, kneeling between your legs, sweat beading along his brow and collarbone. His arms looked carved from heat and tension, muscles flexing with every brutal thrust, his grip on you unrelenting. Veins ran thick beneath his skin, forearms taut, his entire body a picture of control just barely holding together. 

You notice his eyes, flickering between two places.

You see him watching the frantic bounce of your breasts, the heavy sway and jolt that matched his punishing rhythm. His gaze held a dazed, almost feral hunger, as if the sight was physically sustaining him, stealing his breath. You noticed the slight part of his lips, the sharp tension locking his jaw, and the cords standing out in his neck. He looked utterly overwhelmed, caught between competing sensations only you could give him.

You felt the exact moment he tore his gaze from your breasts, the shift in his focus like a tangible touch. His eyes, dark and dilated, slammed down to where your bodies joined. He watched his cock disappearing into you, again and again, thick and glistening, the stretch obscene and devastatingly perfect. His gaze locked there like he couldn’t tear himself away, watching each slick slide in and out of your soaked, swollen cunt. You could feel it, too, the way you clenched around him reflexively, your body still trembling from your last orgasm, wetness pooling between your thighs with every thrust.

You could picture it in your mind, a ring, thick, creamy, gathered at the base of his cock where your arousal mixed with his precum, sticky and white and messy. It coated him with proof of how wrecked you were and how wet you still were for him. You saw his jaw flex as he watched it build, that slick sheen catching in the low light every time he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice thick, reverent. His thumb dragged lightly across the place where your bodies met, gathering a bit of that wetness—your wetness—and rubbing it into your skin like he was claiming it, owning it. “Look at this mess,” he laughed slightly, you could feel his ego inflating, eyes lifting to yours for just a second. “You see that? You’re fucking soaking me.”

The sound that left you was something raw, half a sob, half a moan. Because he was right, you could feel it, could see it. The contrast made it all feel dirtier somehow, more primal. Like your body was trying to hold on to him, mark him, pull him deeper with every thrust.

Then he shifted, just slightly adjusting the angle, and suddenly he was there, driving into that devastating spot inside you with pinpoint accuracy. White heat exploded behind your eyes. Your back arched instinctively, another strangled, shattered moan ripping free as your body jolted in time with him.

You could feel everything.

The pleasure, so bright just moments ago, turned sharp and overwhelming. Your cunt, still twitching from the previous climax, screamed with every deep push, tender enough that even the drag of his skin felt like it would tear you apart. He fucked you through it without mercy—deep, punishing thrusts that struck every live wire inside you. You moaned again, sharp and high, hips twitching involuntarily as your body tried to both flee and follow, chasing every stroke even as it broke you. Each time he slammed into you, a desperate, wrecked sound tore from your throat.

“Will—” your voice broke, trembling and thin. “Will, please, can I—can I come?”

He didn’t stop or slow, but his eyes locked on yours. “You want to come, love?” His voice had a teasing edge to it, his grip bruising at your hips. “Yeah? That close again?”

You nodded frantically, tears welling at the edges of your eyes, the heat rising and coiling fast inside you—faster than you could handle. It was overwhelming. Inevitable.

“Then fucking cum for me,” he said, voice low and rough. “Let me feel you explode.”

You could feel it rising, that unbearable pressure behind your ribs, in your spine, and in your pelvis, like your whole body was winding up for detonation.

Then—release.

It hit you in a white-hot wave, sharp and endless. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your orgasm tore through you the hardest yet, long and deep, shaking you to your core. Your cunt clamped down on him with violent force, pulsing in tight, relentless waves. Your thighs trembled. Your vision blurred. The sound that left you was wrecked and unrecognisable.

Will groaned, a harsh, guttural sound that vibrated through his chest. “Fucking hell,” he cursed. You felt the moment he lost it—the hitch in his rhythm, the sudden deep press as he buried himself to the hilt, thick and twitching inside you.

“Gonna fill you up,” he muttered against your skin, voice broken. “Take it—fuck—take all of it.”

He came with a deep shudder, cock pulsing inside you, hot and overwhelming. You could feel it, thick and warm, flooding you in slow, powerful spurts as he held you tight, body locked against yours.

He stayed buried for a moment, breathing hard, his hand splayed across your belly like he could feel the aftershocks deep inside. Then, slowly, he pulled out with a groan, the stretch tender even now.

Your legs trembled open, loose and shaking, and you felt the warm drip almost immediately, his cum spilling from your used, twitching cunt in slow, wet trails. It slid down over your thighs, thick and white and obscene, pooling beneath you on the pillow he'd shoved under your hips.

Will let out a low, admiring noise, his eyes locked on the mess between your legs.

“Look at that,” he murmured, voice rough, fucked-out. “Look how much I gave you. Can’t even keep it in, love. I filled you up so good, it’s already dripping out. Fucked full and leaking. Perfect.”

You whimpered at the words, at the heat still throbbing between your thighs, at the sensation of him painting your insides and now your skin.

And still, even in the quiet aftermath, you could feel it the deep ache, the fullness, the evidence of how completely he’d taken you.

Will eased down beside you, the heat of his body curling around your back as he pulled you into his chest, one arm draped low across your hips, possessive even now. His other hand smoothed gentle circles over your stomach, grounding you, as your breath slowly came back in broken, uneven pieces.

“You okay?” he murmured against your temple.

You nodded, barely. Every nerve was buzzing, body spent and trembling, but held together by him—his weight, his heat, the way his thumb brushed across your damp skin with something dangerously close to worship.

“I didn’t mean to wreck you like that,” he said, but there was no apology in his tone—just pride, low and lazy.

You huffed a laugh. “Yes, you did. Smug ass.”

A beat of silence stretched between you.

Then—"Yeah,” he said. “I did.” You didn’t have to turn your head to see it. You could feel the smirk pulling at his mouth, could practically hear the self-satisfaction bleeding into every word. That signature brand of cocky, unbothered arrogance.

He leaned in, lips pressing against your shoulder, slow and lingering. “You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmured again, quieter this time, almost to himself. “You always do.” His fingers laced with yours, resting over your belly. You let your eyes fall closed, your body softening fully into his.

For a long, quiet moment, you just breathed.

Then you felt him shift behind you, careful not to jostle you too much as he eased away.

“Come on,” he said softly, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Let me take care of you.”

You made a small noise of protest, but he was already moving—retrieving a warm cloth, a soft towel. He returned a moment later, gentle and unhurried as he cleaned you up. He worked in silence, his brow furrowed in quiet focus, like this mattered as much as anything else—the aftermath, the care.

When he finished, he pulled the covers around you, settling back beside you with a low, satisfied sigh. His arms wrapped around you again, gathering you in like something precious.

[octaneink]

...

Anyway... that was HOT

passenger princess

will lenney x reader x chris dixon

summary: being wedged between chris and will in the backseat of a car leads to something quite unexpected

warnings: mature content (18+ only)

main masterlist

content warnings: threesome, titty sucking, public sex (kinda idk), fingering - if im missing any let me know <33

The car hummed steadily along the motorway, the soft rumble of tires on tarmac was drowned out by the boys relentless back-and-forth from the front and the back of the car. You sat tucked in the back, your camera resting on your lap, panning lazily between the boys as they bickered over Chris not being allowed to drive for more than two hours and Will snd Stephen getting drunk so they wouldn’t be able to drive.

Next to you, Will shifted slightly, one arm slung across the back of the seat, casual as ever. He looked unfairly good in the warm glow of the bright sun, his red football shirt slouched over his shoulders, his mullet curling perfectly at the back of his neck. His knee was pressed lightly against yours with a familiar weight that never bothered you.

You tried to keep your focus on the camera. Tried.

“Mate, you’ve literally been driving for ten years, course you can drive a fucking manual.” Chris scoffed.

Stephen rolled his eyes dramatically, “Ten years is along time, Chris.”

“And he’s pissed, so he legally can’t be behind the wheel,” Will teased from beside you, voice thick with that trademark Geordie lilt – which always became extra strong after a drink – and a shiver ran down your spine.

You turned the camera to him just in time to catch his grin making your stomach flip.

“So true, William,” Stephen laughed, tossing a crisp packet at the backseat. It landed on the carpeted floor between the two of you, and Will snorted, kicking it away with the toe of his trainer.

You leaned forward slightly, capturing the chaos, letting your laughter spill into the background of the recording. You hadn’t noticed Will’s hand had crept closer to your thigh until you shifted back again and felt the faintest brush of his pinkie against your skin.

You stiffened just slightly, eyes flicking to him. But he was still watching the front, still laughing, still being Will, acting as if he hadn’t just made the breath knock out of your chest.

Maybe it was an accident.

You turned your attention back to the camera, focusing on Chris’ exasperated face as Stephen downed another can of blue AU vodka. Then there it was. That hand again. Firmer now.

You gasped softly, head snapping to the side.

Will still wasn’t looking at you. His lips twitched into a knowing smirk, but his eyes remained forward. Bastard.

You swallowed hard and nudged his hand away, trying to keep your expression neutral, even as your skin prickled where his rings had brushed you. He just chuckled under his breath, shameless, fingers dropping back to the seat just barely grazing your skin.

Goosebumps spread across your thighs.

You hated how much you liked it. How much you wished he’d carry on with the teasing. How he was shamelessly doing it in front of his friends, in front of the cameras.

“We’re gonna have to stop somewhere,” Stephen announced, wriggling dramatically in his seat, “I have to piss so bad.”

The boys burst into laughter, and Chris nodded, “Find the next services then.”

You laughed too, but it came out a little breathless. You reached to turn the camera off and placed it on the seat beside you, ignoring the burning heat that was bubbling low in your stomach.

As the car rolled smoothly down the motorway again, your body stilled. Will’s hand was back giving a firm squeeze.

And this time, you didn’t move.

You tilted your head slowly, lashes brushing your cheeks as you glanced up at him. Will met your gaze, a smirk firmly in place, and the glint in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

This wasn’t a game anymore.

You exhaled softly, thighs tensing under his touch as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, heat pooling between your thighs. You bit down on your lip, cheeks burning, but your eyes didn’t waver. They locked with Chris’ in the rearview mirror; his amused smirk all too evident.

Then Will’s fingers pressed firmly over your clothed clit, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you. You gasped, instinctively clamping your legs shut, shaking your head, your mouth parting to say something, but Chris beat you to it.

“Alright, we’re here. Off you go, Stephen.”

“Yes, Dad.” Stephen laughed, unbothered as ever, jumping out and strolling off toward the services.

Chris turned in his seat to face you and Will in the back, “You two gonna finish your little show or what?”

“We’ve not even started it yet,” Will said casually.

“What if people see?” you asked, glancing toward the windows, heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Nobody’s gonna see, pet,” Will murmured, brushing your hair back from your face with one hand. The other slipped from your thigh, calmly unbuckling both your seatbelts, “C’mere.”

You shifted on the bench seat, nerves fluttering in your stomach. Gnawing your cheek, you leaned into Will’s side, his arm curling around your shoulder. His hand slid down, slipping into the waistband of your shorts and gliding over the damp patch on your underwear.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. This wet for me already?”

You hummed softly, letting your head fall to his shoulder, Will’s nimble fingers teasing slow, lazy circles over your clit through the thin fabric.

“Look at Chris f’me.”

You did as you were told, the vibrations echoing from Will’s chest as he chuckled at your obediance. Your gaze dropped to the front of the car. Chris was leaning back against the dashboard, his hand buried in his shorts, dark eyes locked on you as he watched every twitch and whimper as Will’s hands moved across your body.

Will cupped your tits through your shirt, squeezing, teasing, drawing a needy whine from you just as his fingers finally slipped beneath your knickers, gathering the slick from your folds.

“Shit, sweetheart. Look at you, so needy for Will,” Chris groaned.

You nodded, lips parted, breath stuttering as your hips rocked forward into Will’s hand. Your shaky fingers curled around Will’s wrist, eyes wide and pleading as you looked up at him with a pout. He gave you what you wanted, sliding a finger into your tight cunt, the intrusion slow and deliberate. You moaned at the stretch, turning your gaze back to Chris, wishing, aching, for his hands to be on you too.

Your eyes dropped lower, catching sight of his hand still stroking his cock beneath his shorts, “Chris,” you whimpered, reaching out toward him. The sheer desperation in your voice made him groan.

“You want Chrissy too?” Will chuckled, slipping in a second finger, “Needy girl.”

You whimpered again, squeezing your eyes shut, your bottom lip trembling as your nails dug into the leather of the centre console, “yeah…”

Will jerked his chin toward Chris, nodding. Without hesitation, Chris climbed into the back, wedging himself between your legs. The space was tight, but you barely noticed. All of your focus was on the feeling of Chris’ mouth wrapping around your nipple as he pushed your bunched-up top higher.

A string of incoherent moans and curses left your lips, pleasure biting under your skin. One hand buried in Chris’ hair, the other gripped Will’s wrist tight as he continued to pump his fingers inside you.

“More,” you gasped, eyes fluttering.

Will raised an eyebrow, letting out a laugh, “You sure you can handle more, princess?”

“M’sure please, Will?” you begged, blinking up at him through glassy, fucked-out eyes.

He melted, instantly giving in.

With his free hand, Will tapped Chris, who immediately brought his fingers to your clit, tracing sharp, precise circles. At the same time, Will slid in a third finger, your walls stretching around him.

“Fuck,” one of them muttered, but your mind was too fogged to know who.

Your throat burned from the moans tearing out of you. The sensations of Chris sucking at your tits, and Will’s fingers pounding into your cunt had your body coiling tight, your orgasm barrelling toward you fast.

The moment Chris’ teeth scraped lightly over your nipple, you broke.

Your body convulsed between them, hips jerking up into their hands as you rode your high. Will didn’t let up, fucking you through the aftershocks, his fingers working your fluttering cunt until your body finally gave in, slumping against him.

Your breath came in ragged gasps. A whimper escaped your throat at the loss as both of them pulled away. Will smirked, raising his glistening fingers to your lips, tapping lightly. You parted them, obedient as ever, sucking them clean, eyes locked on his the entire time.

Chris groaned at the sight, “Jesus Christ.”

With a sigh, he climbed back into the driver’s seat, giving you space to compose yourself before Stephen returned. You leaned over quickly, pecking his lips, making him smile despite himself.

“Right then.” Will huffed, crossing his arms with mock offence, “I see how it is.”

You laughed breathlessly, sliding back beside him and cupping his jaw, bringing his mouth to yours, “Happy now?” you teased voice rasped, pulling away only to find that smug smile etched across his face.

“Very. Thank you very much.”

The passenger door yanked open just as you slid away from Will and buckled your seatbelt again, trying to hide the satisfied smile on your face.

“That queue was ridiculous,” Stephen groaned. “But I got us more wine, William.”

“Nice one, mate.” Will grinned, grabbing the bottle from him and then he froze. His eyes snapped to the dashboard camera, blinking red. His face paled.

“Did you leave the cameras on, Chris?” he asked, choking on a cough, trying to play it cool.

Your head whipped around, eyes going wide. You leaned forward, peering past Stephen’s seat. Sure enough, the light was still blinking.

Chris just shrugged, a wicked smirk playing on his lips, “Oops. Must’ve forgot.”

He paused, then added with a wink, “Don’t worry though, I’ll be editing that footage.”

[octaneink]

My reactions while reading this

On a Boat- WillNE SMUT

MDNI!

The sunlight peeked through the curtains as you stirred slightly. The only sounds filling the room was the soft hum of the aircon and Will’s steady breathing next to you. You opened your eyes and smiled at the sight of your boyfriend of five months next to you, watching his chest rise and fall, his mouth slightly agape, hair a mess. It was moments like this that you couldn’t believe just how lucky you were to have found him. He often said the same about you but in your mind he was worth a hundred of you and the feeling was mutual. It was two people who found each other after heartbreak, you both were a little jaded but the second you matched on Hinge things shifted and hope was brought back into your lives, brought back laughter, happiness. For a little while you were of the opinion those things weren’t for you but Will changed all of that.

After twenty minutes of dozing you decided it was time for breakfast, well your stomach did and you padded downstairs of the rented villa to search for coffee and breakfast. The pair of you were on holiday in Vale De Lobo in the Algarve, it was your second trip together after a weekend in Ireland for your friends wedding a few weeks ago. Will had not long come back from Monaco. He did invite you to go with him but with so many people there with vlogging cameras and you and him not ready to go public just yet you decided it would be best to not go with him. Will being Will wanting to make it up to you decided to whisk you away to The Algarve. You arrived two nights ago and had spent most of the time just lounging around the pool and eating Al Fresco style but today Will had told you that he had planned a day out.

You made coffee, just how Will liked it as he could be very particular about these things, you also got some pastries you had bought from a supermarket when you arrived and arranged some on a plate with some fruit and made your way back up the wooden staircase, the boards creaking beneath your feet as you climbed up, carefully balancing everything as you made your way back up to the bedroom. When you entered Will was stirring, he sat up slightly his eyes furrowed as he adjusted to the light, hair wild.

“Good morning,” you smiled placing his plate and drink on the side table before making your way back over to your side of the bed. Will kissed your cheek when you sat before reaching over and grabbing his breakfast.

“I planned this day for you, I should be doing this,” Will commented as he yawned.

You shrugged “I was awake. So are you going to tell me anything about today or is it still a secret?”

“You’ll find out soon enough pet,” he responded with a wink. You blushed at the nickname, he always sounded so Geordie when he said it and it made you melt each time.

You both ate their breakfast in bed, ignoring the crumbs in the bed. At one point while sipping your coffee you looked over at Will who was staring at you, his dumb boyish grin on his face, pastel de nata half eaten in hand.

“What?” You asked after swallowing your mouthful of coffee.

“Nothin’ you’re just pretty that’s all,” he replied before popping the rest of his breakfast in his mouth. You both laid there content for a while, his hand resting on your thigh while you drank the rest of your coffee.

The pair of you got ready, Will advising you to wear a swimsuit underneath your clothing. You went for a teal coloured tie up number that complimented your hair and skin tone perfectly. You placed a cream sundress over the top, it matched Will’s crisp linen shirt and pants combo.

He drove the car only ten minutes down the road to the town Vilamoura. The pair of you walked down the marina , you wondered which of the many restaurants by the water he had booked for lunch but to your surprise you ended up walking by them all. You ended up by a little hut, Will said his name and after some paperwork was signed he was handed some keys.

“Come on doll,” Will said simply grabbing your hand and leading you down the end of the wooden pier. “This is ours for the day,” Will gestured to the boat in front of you, it looked to be the biggest yacht in the harbour, you couldn’t see properly inside but it looked luxurious. João was going to be in charge of the boat so you and Will were free to spend the time together, and after some light tapas and champagne the pair you found yourselves up top on the sundeck, both in your swimwear.

“This is unreal,” you murmured, eyes fixed on the way the sunlight sparkled on the waves. “I thought we were just headed for some sangria,”

“I’m full of surprises, babe,” Will smirked. You turned to face him. The sea air had flushed your cheeks, and you smiling in that slow, dreamy way that made Will forget anything else existed. He leaned forward and kissed you—soft at first, but you kissed him back with a quiet urgency, fingers curling around his neck. The kiss deepened. Will’s large fingers slowly made their way down your body, stopping at your waist tugging you closer until you leg moved over his and you ended up straddling him. He could feel you smile against his mouth, your hands in his hair, body warm against his as the sun continued to beam down on the pair of you.

“Y’know,” he mumbled against your lips, “I thought I brought you out here for the view, but I reckon I’ve got the best one right in front of me.”

You rolled her eyes, laughing breathlessly. “You’re such a melt.”

“Yeah, well—” He kissed you again, harder this time, your bodies pressed tight, the lazy rocking of the boat giving everything a slow rhythm. One hand slid to the side of your bikini bottoms, untying them in one movement. You gasped softly into his mouth, pulling him closer, feeling growing heat beneath his short.

“You know there’s no one around for miles, right?” you whispered, teasing, her voice husky.

Will raised an eyebrow. “Oh, believe me. I planned it that way.”

Will’s breath hitched as your lips trailed from his mouth to his jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just beneath his ear, you loved the fact his mullet gave easy access to it.  The heat between them was no longer just from the sun, it radiated from every point their bodies touched. Will’s hands slid up slowly, deliberately, fingers tracing your skin like he was memorising it. You leaned into him, their mouths colliding again in a kiss that was anything but sweet now—hungry, open, desperate as Will’s fingers gently pulled away the tie on your back. He moved like he had all the time in the world, it was killing you, you wanted nothing more then for his tongue to move down from your neck. The rocking of the yacht only seemed to make the tension more electric, swaying you together like a slow, dangerous dance.

“There is one person here, Joao.” Will whispered as he achingly slowly tugged at your bottoms.

“You keep doing that,” you said, breathlessly, “and I’m not going to make it back to shore with my dignity intact.” Your words said one thing but your mannerisms and your facial expression said otherwise.

Will laughed low in his throat, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Babe, I brought you out here so we wouldn’t have to worry about dignity.”

You let out a breathless laugh and kissed him again, rough this time, your hips grinding against his as he groaned into your mouth. The sea stretched endlessly around you, it was just you two, and Joao and the slow burn of desire igniting into something molten.

The boat creaked beneath you as you leaned back, eyes heavy-lidded and daring.

“Guess you’ll have to show me all those surprises, then.”

Will’s grin was slow, naughty, he stuck his tongue out to the side slightly and you knew where that was going, where you wanted him to stick it  “Oh, I intend to.” He grinned.

He was on top of you now, you stared into his blue eyes, your own pupils full of mischief as you removed what was left your dignity on top. He kissed down your breastbone before placing your right nipple in his mouth, kissing and biting it lightly causing you to moan.

“Please Will,” you whispered, your clit throbbed from the anticipation, he gave you a wink before pulling down your knickers completely and straight away you felt his tongue penetrate your core.

“Fuck!” You moaned moving your hips up to give better access. Will put his long fingers  to good use too, stimulating your clit with circles as his tongue made a similar motion inside your dripping cunt, lapping up all of the juices. He continued to lap up every millimetre of you as you moaned in delight.

“Will, I’m going to..” You just about choked out. You could feel him smile against you as he only increased the pace.

“SIT.” He commanded moving his hands to your hips to bring you onto him. You obliged and moved your body, sitting upright as his arms clamped around your thighs keeping you in place on his face as his tongue flicked around with all of it’s might. Eventually you came and Will lapped up every single speck of you. You finally moved to see his face and he looked so heavenly, he was so pussy drunk he looked almost angelic with his eyes rolled back and mouth  open. You slid down his body and kissed him again, sliding your hand down his shorts and grabbing his throbbing cock.

“Your turn,” you whispered.

It didn’t take  long until you were both naked and you were on top of him again, riding his dick like he was paying you to. His dick filled up your walls in a way no one else did, causing you to moan untold pleasure as you felt it pulsing from inside you knowing he was close. It wouldn’t take long after he ate you out, it never did. One day you were sure that alone would get him off.

“Come on darlin’ nearly there,” he grunted as he bit down on your neck again. Soon enough you felt the warm hot cum fill inside you which was enough to make you cum for a second time.

“You’re so fucking good at that,” you whispered collapsing in his arms.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same to you,” he replied as the boat gently rocked from side to side.

[octaneink]

woahhhh we're mutuals! haha ive never had one before so im hyped haha. hope you're doing good :)

Haha! Happy to be your mutual!

I hope your day's going well too!

And Im good✌️😁