#*pops champagne* IT BEGINS

[trashytracktales]

Ma'am, I just found your profile and I'm in love with your writing. I would really like to make a request that you made (After McLaren's victory today I was inspired haha)

Could you please write a short one for Lando where he and his girlfriend enjoy the WCC celebration party so much that they don't even have time for themselves (not that it's a big deal for them), but in the next morning the reader wakes up feeling Lando half hard on her back, while they're spooning, so she decides to wake him up with a handjob. So one thing leads to another and they end up having a slow, intense and delicious morning sex.

(if you don't feel comfortable writing, please just ignore. I will totally understand)

Orange glow | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for your support! Enjoy this one 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── After McLaren wins the 2024 Constructors' Championship and Lando dominates the Abu Dhabi GP, the night is full of partying. But the real celebration happens in the morning, hidden between the sheets, and far away from the outside world.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, descriptive language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, post-race tension, spooning, slow morning sex, shower sex, hyping each other up, reader tries to be funny towards the end, quick Lily Zneimer cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 9, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I literally have a list of requests piling up, but I had to jump on this one immediately after last night, oop. I'm a Ferrari girlie through and through, and I'm not going to get into the details of how many times I cried this season, however, I'm so proud of the McLaren boys, and everything they've accomplished. A season to remember for sure. Now let the horrors (winter break) begin 🥲👍��

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE WEEKEND STARTED with a lot of pressure, even though the odds were in their favor. And it continued that way on Sunday, after Oscar's Turn 1 incident. Luckily, Lando's teammate had managed to claw his way back into the points by the end of the race. Lando, on the other hand, had been untouchable ever since the lights went out, his car gliding through each lap with precision and speed as if he was running on hopes and old dreams.

His girlfriend watched it all unfold from the garage, her heart constantly in her throat as every sector time flashed on the screens. When the checkered flag finally dropped, she could finally breathe, knowing how much Lando has been stressing about it, especially after the weekend in Qatar.

By the time the podium ceremony begins, the entire paddock is buzzing; she's absolutely sure that no place on Earth is ever as loud as the paddock when someone wins.

Tonight, it's her boy.

In the sea of radiant faces, Lando manages to spot her without any issues and, for a brief moment, their eyes meet. He raises the bottle in her direction, grinning mischievously, before pop it on the podium step and shaking it up, drenching his team principal and the two Ferraris from head to toe.

She laughs, her chest warm with so much pride and love.

After that, it takes Lando a couple of hours before he finally makes it back to her. Post-race duties pull him in a hundred different directions — sometimes simultaneously — media interviews, debriefs, and lots of photo sessions. But when he sees her waiting outside the McLaren hospitality suite, he breaks away from the crowd without hesitation.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing here, hm? You should've waited inside,” says Lando, his voice low, but full of warmth as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend.

He smells faintly of champagne and sweat that mixed with his perfume and natural scent, a heady blend that reminds her of everything he’s just achieved for both himself and his team. The adrenaline it's still floating in the air, and she can feel the buzz of it in the way he's touching her.

“I did,” she replies, looking up at him. “But it took forever, and I got bored.”

It doesn't take long for camera flashes to capture the moment, and Lando takes off his cap to cover their faces, as he leans in to steal a gentle kiss from her before heading back inside.

THE MUSIC IS pretty much deafening, and the lights are a kaleidoscope of neon orange. The celebrations continue into the night, while Lando is — oh, so shockingly — the life of the party, moving from one group to the next with a constant drink in hand, his laughter ringing melodious above the bass.

She stays close but lets him have the spotlight. This is his night, after all, and she wants him to enjoy every single moment. Still, Lando always finds ways to include her by dragging her onto the dance floor for a song, or pulling her into photos with the team, and brushing kisses against her temple as they weave through the crowd.

It gets tiring at times, so she chooses to disappear for a couple of minutes back at their table; a good opportunity to regain control over her breathing, and maybe down another shot. This time, she finds herself watching Lando moving anything but gracefully on the dance floor. He looks like he's yelling, while aggressively gesturing in Oscar's direction, the two of them laughing over something she can’t hear. The sight makes her chest tighten with affection, though. They both seem so carefree right now, so unburdened, and she realizes how rare that is. The season has been the longest ever, and it was filled with so much pressure and expectations. But tonight, all of that has melted away.

“Having fun?” she hears a soft voice from behind her, then her senses are invaded by a faint floral scent.

She turns in her seat to see Lily, her cheeks flushed from the heat, with her smile as contagious as ever.

“More than I expected,” she finally replies, returning the smile and raising her glass to take another sip. “It’s hard not to when I see them like that,” she adds, pointing at their boyfriends.

Lily laughs, nodding slowly. “On the way here, I overheard that they want to get a tattoo in Zak's honor.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

The two girls exchange a look, their eyes locking in a silent agreement. It's their cue to step in, take control, and save their boyfriends from their drunken selves.

It’s past three in the morning when the party starts to wind down. Lando finds her near the bar, his hair a tousled, curly mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He looks exhausted but genuinely happy and satisfied, his eyes bright with the lingering adrenaline of the night.

“Ready to head back, mon amour?” he asks in a broken French accent, slipping an arm around her waist.

She nods, leaning into him. “Thought they'd never wear you out.”

“Pff. FYI, I've got plenty of energy left,” he says determined, smirking down at his girlfriend and watching as her thin fingers button up his shirt.

She giggles, knowing it's not even close to the truth, “Of course you do.”

The ride back to their hotel is quiet, proving her that she was right to not believe him earlier. Lando rests his head against her shoulder, his hand holding hers, fingers intertwined on top of her lap. She can feel the tiredness creeping in, but her heart is still skipping a beat every time Lando brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

When they finally step into their room, he lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed.

“Fuuucking hell. I can't feel my toes, is that fucking normal?” he mumbles into the pillow.

She chuckles, sitting down beside him to take her heels off. “You just turned a two-syllable word into four, so you tell me. I could barely keep up with you, baby. I'm not surprised you're absolutely wrecked,” she admits, lowering herself over his back to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

He sighs, flipping his body the other way, looking up at her with a tired but content smile. “Totally worth it, though.”

She places another kiss, to his jaw this time, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. “I'm so proud of you, pretty boy. I hope you know that.”

Lando's eyes soften, and he reaches up to take her hand in his, letting it rest over his chest. “Couldn't have done a lot of things without you... You kept me sane this season.”

She shakes her head, but he squeezes her hand, his expression earnest. “I didn’t—”

“Baby, I mean it,” he interrupts her vehemently, “Thank you.”

They don’t talk much after that, the exhaustion of the night catching up to them both. Finally, when they change and slip properly under the blanket, they fall asleep together, the hum of the city below fading into the background.

THE EARLY SUN spills into the room, casting long shadows over the tangle of sheets. She stirs first, her senses awakening to the quiet hum of Lando's soft snoring. Usually, she would push him on the other side so she won't hear him anymore, but she knows how tired he was just a few hours ago.

His arm is slung loosely around her waist, holding her close to him as if she might disappear. She shifts slightly, and that’s when she feels him — it — a familiar pressure nestled against her ass, half-hard and stirring with his own slow wakefulness.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she stays still for a moment.

The rest of Lando's body is relaxed against hers, but even in his sleep, he responds to her presence, which makes her heart race. Carefully, she reaches back, her hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. The moment her fingers curl around his cock, Lando lets out a soft, muffled groan, instinctively pressing closer. At that, he wakes slowly, the low sound rumbling in his chest as he tightens his grip around her waist.

“Mm... ‘morning, baby,” he greets her with a thick, rough voice, filled with sleep. However, there’s a teasing edge to it as he pushes his hips more intently into her hand.

“Good morning, champ,” she murmurs in a playful tone, her hand continuing its lazy strokes, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock in circles with her thumb.

He hisses, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You waking me up like this just because I won?” mumbles Lando, his lips curling into a soft smirk against her skin.

She lets out a quiet chuckle, but doesn’t reply, focusing instead on the way he hardens fully in her small fist, the weight of him in her hand so familiar and thrilling.

“Fuck, I lose it when you touch me like that,” says Lando, fully woken up by now. “Feels so good, baby.”

Hearing that, she perfects her strokes, feeling the pre-cum coating the palm of her hand, smiling mischievously when she manages to pull another moan out of his mouth.

“Do you have to be somewhere today?” she finally asks.

Lando sighs in pleasure, his hips eager to move in the same rhythm as her hand, “Not until after lunch. Why?”

He knows where she's hinting with her innocent question, but he enjoys hearing her talk.

She laughs lightly, feeling his cock begin to throb slightly in her grip. “I just wanted to celebrate some more.”

Lando's hand slides down her body, instinctively, warm and purposeful, as he grips her thigh and drapes her leg over his hip.

“Alright then,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with a lazy, husky need.

Before she can speak again, he shifts behind her, freeing his throbbing cock and lining himself up, pressing into her in one slow, languid motion, thankful he has such easy access to her so early in the morning. Her breath catches in her throat, her hand clutching at the sheets as he fills her completely, the heat of him spreading through her like fire.

“Lando,” she breathes in sharply, her voice tinged with need, her ass pushing back against him.

Lando's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer as he starts to move. His pace is slow, deliberate, each thrust a deep, measured push that sends shivers down her spine. The angle is perfect, his hips pressing against her as he drives into her from behind, her leg draped over his to open her up to him completely.

“Oh, god,” she moans, bringing her free hand to the back of Lando's head, lightly tugging at his hair.

“You always feel so good in the morning, baby—fuck,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he moves. His free hand slides up her body, cupping her breast under the fabric of his shirt she's wearing, and teasing her nipple between his fingers. “So warm and ready for me, I could slip inside even in my sleep, hm?”

As a response, her head falls back against his chest, her hand continuing to thread through his hair as Lando buries his face in her neck. Each thrust is so agonizingly slow, almost testing her patience, but every single one is filled with a quiet intensity that steals the breath from her lungs. His hands are suddenly everywhere — cupping her breasts, brushing over her stomach, gripping her hips as he pulls her back against him with undeniable strength.

“Shit,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and reverent, “You make me so fucking hard,” Lando adds breathlessly. “So perfect around my cock every. Single. Time,” he accentuates the words with each thrust.

His sleepy voice sends a fresh wave of heat through her, her body trembling as she grips the sheets tighter, trying to hold on to the feeling of him fucking her like that. Too soon, their movements grow less coordinated as they both near the edge, their breaths coming faster, blending together in the quiet room.

“Lan…” she gasps, her voice breaking as his hand slides lower, his fingers finding her clit.

“Come on my cock, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough with need as his fingers work in time with his slow, deep thrusts. “Let go for me.”

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out, her thighs wanting to press together in pleasure, but Lando's other hand holds her open for him, the slick sound of him pushing in and out of her pussy, an exquisite melody for his ears.

Soon enough, her body tenses, her moans turning into soft whimpers as she comes, her release washing over her in waves that leave her legs shaking. Lando follows moments later, his thrusts growing erratic before he stills inside her, his body shuddering as he presses himself as deep as he can.

They take a long moment to breathe, their bodies joined together. His hand brushes soothing circles over her stomach, his lips pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and neck, before pulling the shirt over her head so he can feel her in his arms without any obstacles.

“You’re dangerous as hell when you wake me up like this,” he finally speaks, his voice raw.

She laughs, her body still humming with the aftershocks. “Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little,” he admits, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck, inhaling her scent.

They stay just like that for a while, making her wonder if Lando fell back asleep, but then he presses one more kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there as he shifts, pulling gently out of her. The instant emptiness draws a soft gasp from her, and they both feel the warmth of their shared release slipping between them, dampening the sheets beneath.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down her thigh before slipping back between her legs. Slowly, his fingers press into her fucked out pussy, gathering as much cum as he can so he can push it back inside.

“God, you're so dirty, baby,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice a mix of affection and playful reprimand. “You should probably take a shower, I'm just saying.”

Her heart starts racing again at the sweet sensation of his fingers, but she doesn’t let him have the last word. She finally turns around in his arms, wanting to see his pretty face bathed in the orange glow of the morning. Her lips find his in a superficial kiss, as one of her hands wraps around his body, pressing firmly against the small of his back and pulling him closer. As their bodies press together, his cock rests between their stomachs, still half-hard and slick with the remnants of their orgasms.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, her voice teasing as she murmurs, “Yeah? Look who’s talking.”

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow as he laughs softly. “Touché,” he whispers, his hands gripping her waist.

Before she can say anything else, he flips them over, pulling her on top of him with an effortless motion. She straddles his hips, her thighs pressing into his, her pussy pressing down on his length. They both exhale at the wet feeling between their bodies, but none of them dares to make another sudden move.

“I wanted to take you in the middle of the dance floor last night,” admits Lando, his hands sliding up to cup her hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

“Why didn't you?” she counters, her voice playful as she leans down to kiss him again.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you? Fuck you where everyone can see how pretty you look with my cock inside you?”

She presses one more kiss to his lips, mostly to shut him up, “I'd let you fuck me anywhere you want, my love.”

Lando's fingers tighten around her waist, making her whimper against his jaw, “So fucking easy for me, baby. You're gonna end me one of these days.”

“Not today, though,” she exhales abruptly, fucking her hips onto Lando's length, with no intention other than teasing him.

“Behave,” he says softly, cupping the back of her head in his palm so he can pull her back into a sinful kiss.

They linger there for a while, the morning hues catching in the strands of his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat on their skin. It’s warm, so intimate, and entirely theirs — a connection that no one can take away nor break.

Eventually, Lando lets out a mock-serious sigh, his hands sliding up her back, stopping roughly at her thighs to squeeze her. “Alright, gorgeous. Shower time. Before we ruin these sheets completely.”

She laughs, climbing off him and wincing slightly at the sticky mess between her thighs. He catches the movement and smirks, playfully slapping her ass as he sits up.

“Come on,” says Lando, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bathroom.

The shower is already steaming up when they step inside, the hot water cascading over their bodies. Lando's fingers are lazily tracing patterns on her back, hers tangling in his wet hair as they share languid kisses under the spray.

“Do you even know what you mean to me?” he whispers, his voice low and filled with adoration. His hands trail up her back, fingers tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her, all over again. “What you do for me? God, I don't need anything else.”

Her cheeks warm, though whether from his words or the water, she isn’t sure. She tilts her head up, her smile soft and full of affection for him. “Lando, I’m just here for you. You’re the one out there doing the impossible every single day. My champion.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against hers. “You're so sweet, love. But you know I'm not a champion yet, my team is.”

Her hands slide up his chest, fingers resting over his heart as she gazes at him, her voice steady and determined. “You are McLaren, Lan. You and Oscar, hold everything together. It's a great responsibility, and I've seen what it did to you this year. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

For a moment, Lando goes silent, his eyes softening as he takes her in. The quiet between them is filled with the sound of the water, and everything he wants to say to her but can't. It'd be too soon, and he has a habit of letting his mouth loose when his emotions get the best of him.

She notices that, and she knows he's working on it, that's why she won't let the moment grow too serious, “Though, to be fair, Oscar has done you and McLaren a lot of favors this season, no?”

Lando’s startled laugh echoes off the tiled walls, and he pulls back to look at her, his grin wide and mischievous. “Oh, yeah? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Before she can respond, he presses her back against the cool tiles, his hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her slightly, her back arching under the contrast of the chilled surface and the hot water.

“Lando!” she gasps in surprise.

“You take that back,” he growls playfully, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss that knocks all the air out of her lungs.

Her laughter dissolves into a moan as he pushes into her again, slow and deep, filling her completely. Her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring herself against him as he pulls out all the way, only to slam back inside, setting a rhythm that’s somehow both lazy and desperate.

The shower fills with the sound of water splashing and the soft, breathless moans that escape her lips, her head falling back against the tiles as he buries his face in her neck. His hands grip her thighs harder, holding her steady as he thrusts deeper, each motion pulling gasps and cries from both of them.

“You saying Oscar’s better than me?” he teases, his voice strained but filled with humor.

“Maybe,” she jokes, breathing out sharply, her nails raking down his back as she arches into him. “But you’re doing a stellar job convincing me otherwise.”

Lando's laugh is low and breathless, turning into a groan as he quickens his pace.

For a lot of people, winning means lifting a trophy above their heads, but for him, it's the rhythm of their bodies moving together — a louder kind of triumph that manifests into delicious moans and whimpers.

It's the kind of podium he will never get tired of stepping on.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

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© trashy track tales, 2024

[fastandcarlos]

The Littlest Surprise » Daniel Ricciardo

caption: hello im a new f1 content creator and would love some feedback if you enjoy my fics tysm 🩷

summary: you’ve not been seen at the paddock for a while and the fans are getting worried, little do they know the reason for your absence is about to make everyone’s dreams come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by schecoperez, georgerussell63 and 842,420 others

danielricciardo: always a pleasure to have the fam on my side, excited to show the little ones what uncle danny gets up to 🥺

49,302 comments

username1: is this yet another race y/n won’t be at this weekend??

username2: I cannot wait for the day that this man becomes a dad

username3: if y/n doesn’t hurry up and make him a dad…daniel i’m happy to offer my services 😊

maxverstappen1: how big is y/n/n now! she looks so grown up 🥺

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 she’ll be 6 soon, where does the time go??

oscarpiastri: don’t forget your little adopted aussie nephew

landonorris: and your british nephew too!!

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris hey! i might be a bit older but not old enough to be your uncle thank you

username4: anyone else think something might be going on, daniel posting about his family without y/n there is strange

username5: @/username4 let’s not overthink this too much, y/n might just be busy

username4: @/username5 it’s been ages since we last saw her, you gotta admit it’s a bit sus

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 629,301 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend of racing, nice feeling to be back on the podium…man how I missed hearing that champagne pop 🏎️

38,402 comments

charles_leclerc: congrats brother, nice to be up there with you once again

username6: y/n not distracting you anymore to stop you getting on the podium??

username7: @/username6 wtf? why would you suggest such a thing?

carlossainz55: always knew you’d be back up there one day, long may it continue!

yukitsunoda0511: you gotta give me some tips bro, those manoeuvres were lethal today 🔥

pierregasly: danny ric just doing danny ric things

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liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 922,547 others

danielricciardo: hey team! just wanted to clear up some things after miami this weekend…me and y/n are absolutely fine, had some things going on that I promise we’ll explain soon ❤️❤️ for now tho, here’s an update on life recently ☁️✨

92,174 comments

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username8: I knew you guys would be okay, take as long as you need my two favourites!!

username9: a big screw you to those who doubted you…real fans love you guys

landonorris: I love you guys, here if you need anything brother ❤️

username10: hope whatever is going on clears up soon, we’re missing you guys around here🩷

lilymhe: tell y/n to gimme a call! ily guys ✨

visacashapprb: can’t wait to welcome y/n back into the paddock soon - see you for race week!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, iamrebeccad and 310,409 others

ynusername: it’s been a long few months, but we finally feel ready to share with you our happy news. pregnancy has been tough, I’d love to say it has treated me well, but it hasn’t. I cannot thank daniel enough for being by my side and helping me out whenever I’ve needed him…baby spam incoming ⛅️🍼

ps. each of us chose a picture to share, guess who chose what 🙄

28,461 comments

danielricciardo: words cannot begin to describe how proud I am of how brave you’ve been, the worst of it is over now my love, the countdown to baby ricciardo starts now

danielricciardo: ps my photo is way cooler than yours is

landonorris: omg I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me, uncle Lando reporting for duty!

carlossainz55: the biggest congratulations you two, you’re going to be the best parents

carmenmmundt: so glad to hear y/n is doing better, may the rest of your pregnancy be a dream ✨

lilymhe: the strongest girl I know - so excited to see you become a mum 😍

username11: all my manifesting has paid off, baby ricciardo will be the luckiest

oscarpiastri: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!

estebanocon: my spidey senses were spot on, I knew a baby was on the way!

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liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll and 102,585 others

ynusername: life lately 💫 exhausted but loving all the little things (including daniel 😂)

17,492 comments

username12: y/n looks like she’s living the dream, mum life suits her well 🥺

danielricciardo: im definitely not a “little thing” how else did we end up like this?

landonorris: @/danielricciardo excuse me sir you are about to have a child, sort your humour out

maxverstappen1: glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself again y/n, brunch on me soon!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 yes - let’s not tell daniel #gatecrasher

danielricciardo: @/ynusername you know your comments are public…right?

username13: anyone else wishing they could brunch with y/n too??

lance_stroll: sending all the good book recs your way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 738,603 others

danielricciardo: babymooning 🍼 the smile says it all, so happy to have my girl back on her feet and feeling like herself again…making the last few memories just the two of us 🥺

83,500 comments

ynusername: thank you for the best couple of days and being my personal taxi driver

username14: look at his face - you can tell daniel is buzzing to be a dad

pierregasly: where was my invite?? I thought we were friends

carlossainz55: and mine!

georgerussell63: me too!

landonorris: looks like we were all forgotten!

visacashapprb: enjoy the break daniel! you and y/n absolutely deserve it 🏁🩷

username15: i speak for all your fans when i say keep the holiday photos coming pls

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 920,355 others

danielricciardo: mum and dad 🔥🥺

tagged: ynusername

58,429 comments

landonorris: adopt me pls, im less problematic than a baby

danielricciardo: @/landonorris debatable

lewishamilton: so glad to see you both so happy, good luck with everything

charles_leclerc: wow!! y/n looks insane (suppose you look alright too daniel!)

ynusername: mum and dad?? i can definitely get used to hearing that 🤩

alex_albon: it’s not fair how adorable you two are, this kid is hella lucky!!

username16: pls keep the baby spam coming, you guys are the sweetest 🍼💫

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511 and 109,446 others

ynusername: the many faces of a man who has just remembered he’s just signed up for no sleep for the next 10 years 😂

tagged: danielricciardo

23,201 comments

danielricciardo: after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? you just wait my love 🫢

ynusername: @/danielricciardo this was too good of an opportunity to miss

carlossainz55: make the most of that middle photo whilst you can danny

georgerussell63: you have NO idea how much I just laughed at this y/n 😂😂😂

schecoperez: speaking from experience, you could not be more correct y/n #dannynosleep

username17: embarrassing dad before even becoming a dad 😬

oscarpiastri: call me for anymore embarrassing daniel pics 😂

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri no one asked for you to show up here

username18: I just want you to be my mum and dad instead 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 113,999 others

ynusername: can you believe this man is really about to become a father?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

32,694 comments

charles_leclerc: sometimes i really do wonder what you see in him y/n

landonorris: the biggest clown known to man, still the world’s biggest kid 😂😂

danielricciardo: is that really how you want to talk about the father of your child? I thought you were supposed to love me

ynusername: @/danielricciardo i do, ily very much 🥰

username17: not y/n releasing all the humiliating photos of daniel now they’re about to be parents

username18: y/n’s clearing the phone album for baby spam and giving us daniel spam in return

logansargeant: more to the point, this is the guy you chose as the father of your child??

lilymhe: the two of you are perfect for each other y/n ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 1,403,407 others

danielricciardo: welcome to the world baby ricciardo 💕

after a lot of hardships and tricky times, y/n and i are beyond excited to share with you that our little one is here. everyone is safe, loved and doing well, my heart has never felt so full 🥺

tagged: ynusername

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[defmaybe]

last night's mascara

12 Days of Christmas: Day 11, January 4th, 2025

Dreamcatcher’s Lee Gahyun x Male Reader

3.1k words

Christmas Masterlist

What a boring ass party.

It’s the thought that has been lingering inside your head for the last two hours. The decorations? Daft. The song choice? Lame. The conversations? Rote. So, there you are, one hand on your phone, the other fiddling with your fingers restlessly. Should’ve bought Balatro when it was on sale.

You scroll your Twitter feed aimlessly, pressing likes on the fan sites’ pictures of your favorite groups—fromis_9, Red Velvet, (G)I-DLE. It’s the only way to escape this party without raising much suspicion.

Well, not until Gahyun notices you standing in the corner of your eyes.

“Not enjoying it?”

You almost drop your phone on the ground, good thing you can balance it with your hands.

“Shit, y–yeah,” you reply.

Gahyun giggles softly, covering her mouth with the glass of champagne in her hand. She’s in her red and white Christmas dress, one that shows off a lot—her shoulders, her legs, her ample cleavage. Fuck, she looks so tantalizing.

“So,” she says. She’s pulling you into a conversation. Abort. Abort. Abort!

“How was your day?” she asks, “Wait, oh my god, that was a terrible question. I’m sorry if it’s too plain for you.”

It’s over for you.

“No, no, it was–great. I’m fine,” you reply. “How are you?”

Gahyun chuckles. “A bit drunk, but still standing!” she says with a bright smile, twisting her foot coyly. God, she looks gorgeous.

You only shoot a smile back at her. You don’t know what more to say. It’s difficult for you to continue the conversation like this. You can’t do this.

“Hey,” she continues. You’re finished. “I can keep you company here if you want.”

She’s kind, but you’ll have to say no. You aren’t good enough to hold her right here. You don’t have anything to talk about!

“Ah, I–I appreciate that, but I don’t think you’d enjoy my company,” you decline, taking a sip of the champagne in your hand.

She giggles, and you fall victim to your own self-deprecation once again. You just can’t stop pushing people out, can you?

Fuck.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, come on!” she encourages. You’re taken aback by her enthusiasm to be with you. Is she really enjoying your company? Is it a dare? Is she just toying with you for her own entertainment?

“O–Okay, Gahyun,” you stammer.

The conversation begins at the expense of your solitude. It’s seemingly unending. You’re involuntarily dragged into an exchange with the talkative Lee Gahyun. However, you’re slowly dragged into her charismatic presence. You’re somehow not stuttering anymore? Goodness gracious! She’s a good talker. She’s a good listener. She’s genuinely comforting to be around.

“So–speaking of music, have you been listening to anyone recently? Well, outside of k-pop, it’ll be too boring,” Gahyun asks.

You contemplate a bit before you answer, “Well, I’ve been listening to Gracie Abrams a lot lately. Do you know her?”

“Gracie Abrams–hmm–is she the one who opened for Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah!” you happily answer. She’s really full of knowledge. “I started listening to her a few years ago. Quality can be choppy sometimes, but I still like her a lot.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” she says with a giggle. “That’s why you’re drawn to her.”

You can only chuckle at her warm words. God, she really knows how to reel you in. 

“What about you? Who have you been listening to?” you ask her the same question back. Normally, you’d be beating yourself up for not changing the question, but with Gahyun, it feels like you don’t have to worry about anything.

Gahyun laughs, cutely covering her mouth while doing so. “Well, mostly Billie Eilish, her new album. Have you heard it yet?”

“Oh, yeah! I love Birds of a Feather a lot. Wait, let me guess yours–uh–” you pause, trying to guess her favorite from the album.

Gahyun adoringly smiles, waiting for your guess. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the light, but, fuck, are you having a crush on her?

“Chihiro?”

“Aww~ that’s close! It’s actually my second favorite,” Gahyun says, pouting cutely. You can only awkwardly giggle along to cover the embarrassment from the mistake.

“I actually love Lunch the most, to be honest,” she says. “Makes me click my heels, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean–I also like Lunch, but–uh–it’s just not as sad as Birds of a Feather.”

“Oh. Oh! Well, that’s definitely interesting!” Gahyun says. “So, you like sad songs? Do you like–uh–have any to recommend to me?”

You give her a few songs. She nods in acknowledgement. The exchange continues into the night. It flows so lively that you get lost in her charm, over and over again. You find out about her dog at home—Bae. You find out that she loves pineapples on pizzas. You find out that her favorite TV show is Goblin (yes, that Goblin).

As it goes on, you can’t help but steal glances at her body, even if you know how inappropriate that is. You’ll use the opportunity when she looks away to take in the view of her ample cleavage or her meaty thighs. She looks so good, so deli–

“Hey,” she derails your train of thoughts. “Did you just–stare at my tits?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long. Your hands tremble in fear of getting called out. You should say sorry, now!

“F–Fuck, I–I’m so s–sorry, Gah–”

“Zip it,” she cuts you off, putting her index finger on your lips. “I don’t want excuses.”

Tears start to form in your eyes. You’re being mentally cornered by Lee Gahyun, the company darling. God, you’re beyond fucked. Your whole life is being undone because of a slip. Fuck.

Then, she whispers into your ear.

“Meet me at the women’s bathroom in five minutes.”

You nod with your eyes closed slowly, before she departs from you, giving you the view of her hips swaying before disappearing into the crowd.

—

The women’s bathroom smells of air purifier, it’s taken care of well. It’s brightly lit. You find Gahyun standing in the middle of the room—arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’s waiting for you.

“Come here, lock the door,” she orders, gesturing you to her. Her voice is much, much more stern than in the ballroom, but there’s also–something else. Is she mad at you, or is it something else?

The door clicks shut, leaving the bathroom only for you two. You slowly walk towards Gahyun, who’s looking at you expectantly.

The air thickens with anticipation. The silence is heavy. You’re stuck in the bathroom with Lee Gahyun. She doesn’t seem too pleased with your presence here, but why would she be calling you here, then?

“So,” she starts. You close your eyes shut in fear. “Anything to say before we start?”

You shake your head vigorously, hoping that the admission would lessen the punishment directed at you.

You hear a wicked laugh, as she starts to circle around you. Your body trembles in fear. Fuck, what is she going to do with you. Is she going to beat you up? Is she going to berate you?

“Are you sure that you’ve locked the door?” she asks from behind you. You can feel her breath on your neck. It’s terrifying.

“Y–Yes, Gahyun,” you stammer out.

“Good. Now, take off your pants,” she orders sternly. Wait, this isn’t going where you’ve expected.

“Wait, do you want me to–”

“Take off your pants, yes,” she finishes your sentence without any hesitation. Determination shines in her eyes.

“O–Okay?” you utter, before reluctantly unbuckling your belt. It’s so hard to come off when your hands are literally shaking like this. Your breathing becomes erratic with each second that passes by.

“Faster,” she sternly commands into your ear. Her warm breath touches your skin, eliciting goosebumps everywhere. Your hands quickly take off your trousers as she orders, leaving your lower body in your boxers. The outline of your erection becomes visible under them.

“Good,” she says, the warmth of your hand emanating into your firm ass. “Now, if you’d show me what you’ve been hiding under this–garment.

You immediately comply with her order, sliding down your tight boxers in a hasty motion. Your hard cock springs free from its confinement. It twitches in the anticipation of what’s to come. Gahyun presses into your body from the back, making your ass touch her warm crotch. Her perfume pervades your nostrils, making your legs wobble like jelly.

“Hmm, excited, aren’t we?” she coos. Her right hand reaches from the back to tease you. She leaves just a little space between her hand and your cock. You wish you could just grab her hand and make her touch your hardness right now, but that’s not how you play this game. You can only wonder how Gahyun can hide this side for so long—the side that dominates the shit out of you.

“Do you want me to touch it? Say it.” Her hot breath brushes against your ear, teasing you, pushing you towards the limit.

“Y–Yes, I want you to touch it, Gahyun,” you utter, mind going all haywire from the sheer intensity of her body warmth against your back.

You hear Gahyun giggle mischievously from the back, before her hand latches onto your cock firmly, making you groan in sheer ecstasy.

Slowly, she begins her dirty display on your cock. She lazily drags her hand up along your length, eliciting a shudder from you. When she’s at the top, she makes sure to take a swipe on the tip to make you moan. Your brain is now filled with nothing but her otherworldly handjob she’s giving. She feels so good.

You moan and whimper in her tight restraint, naked from below the waist. Her hands are slowly jerking you off with an unmatched mastery. Her smell is intense—her perfume, and something that’s explicitly her.

She slowly finds her rhythm, knowing when to pump, knowing when to swipe. She goes faster, eliciting guttural groans and whimpers out of you. 

Your cock is being fondled by the company darling, and that thought alone sends you into rapture. She’s the same woman you see every day. She’s the same woman you’ve talked to. She’s the same woman who everyone loves. Now, she’s jerking you off in the women’s bathroom, making you moan and whimper.

Maybe it’s the sheer intensity of the situation, you can feel your loins tightening. Your body becomes rigid. Your breathing becomes erratic. You’re going to cum in Lee Gahyun’s hand!

“You know, I’ve been told a lot that I have nice lips,” she says. Her hands remain a little too eager to finish you off. It’s becoming too irresistible to cum right now. You can feel the tension rising within your loins. You do want more than her hand, indeed. That pair of lips are a little too tantalizing for you to not be on your cock—so plump, so pouty.

“F–Fuck, Gahyun, I–I’m gonna cum,” you utter. Time is running low, and you have to make her stop before you blow a load all over the bathroom floor and get short-circuited for the rest of the night.

Gahyun lets out another wicked giggle. “Say please, then.” She’s not going to stop so easily, not before you profusely beg her to.

“Nghhn~ p–please, Gahyun,” you plead, voice already shaking in the intense sensation.

“Again, and I’ll lift my hand off,” she teases, jerking you off even faster. Your mind is all hazy from the sheer pleasure you’re getting from her hand. Your blinking becomes rapid. Your vision becomes blurry.

“Nghh~ please, G–Gahyun.”

Gahyun suddenly removes her hand from your cock, leaving it twitching in the air. You sigh, as the tension slowly drops back to normal. You’re happy not to cum before you get to take on her mouth.

“Close one,” she says, letting go of you from her warm embrace. You feel like you can fully breathe for the first time in years. She was suffocating, but you won’t deny the pleasure she gave you, of course.

Gahyun slowly walks back to your front, putting the highlight of her next act for you to see—her lips, those dick-sucking lips. You and the guys have talked about this behind her back (well, behind everyone’s back) about how good her lips would feel on your cocks, head bobbing up and down in a hypnotic motion, bringing intense pleasure to whoever gets their dick sucked. 

Now, it’s your turn.

Gahyun kneels, not without seductively swaying her wide hips as she goes down. Your cock twitches at the sight violently, so ready to be taken into her mouth.

“Say please, just like when I jerked you off,” she commands. She seems to know when to raise her voice and when to not.

“Please, Gahyun,” you utter, your voice all dry from the moaning and the internally burning desire.

The first contact is nothing short of divine. Gahyun starts slow. She starts by taking in just the mushroom tip into her mouth. She feels so warm, so tight, so right. Gahyun gives the underside of your cock a playful lick, making your body jolt in response.

She then begins her show, pushing herself further on your cock. It’s a lewd sight, really—the direct eye contact, the sound she’s making (it’s kind of a low, satisfied hum), the way she fondles your balls with her fingers. Pleasure just shoots through your body like a bullet. Without any restraints, you could just cum into her mouth right here and now. She pushes further and further, making you groan in pure bliss, until she starts to gag.

“Y–You don’t have to take it all, G–Gahyun.”

She says nothing, instead diving deeper onto your cock, all while using her tongue to play with the underside of your length. No woman has ever given you a blowjob as good as this—the deliberate movement, the will to gag, the pouty lips. Gahyun really has it all.

She keeps the eye contact intact, a reminder of her control. The gagging sounds she’s making don’t hinder her dominance by a little bit. She lets you know who’s in control here. It’s her and only her.

She finally pushes herself up to the hilt of your cock. She gags. She chokes. She sputters. Globs of spit leaks out of her mouth. Your head falls backwards from the pleasure. Her eyes are barely opening from the sheer size of your cock. You love this. You love the sounds she’s making. You love how she dominates the shit out of you. You love that she’s willing to suck you off like this (even if she’s the one in full control).

She stays there, gagging, choking, sputtering on your cock. She’s taking in the pungent scent of you, judging by the way she takes a deep breath through her nose. Her lips look so good on your cock like this. The base of your length becomes saturated by her red lipstick and spit. Streaks of black mascara run down her cheeks. You’re revelling in it. You’re revelling in the sight.

“G–God, G–Gahyun,” you utter.

With that, she slowly pulls back from your cock, leaving a trail of her rosy lipstick on it. Her eyes are fluttering violently with the thickness and length of you. She can barely breathe, and you’re loving it.

Instinctively, your right hand goes to the back of her head, tugging her hair to pull her out of the predicament called your cock. She gets to breathe again, and she quickly dislodges herself off you.

“Ah, y–you taste good,” she says, still trying to catch her breath. The marks from the earlier act are evident.

You say nothing, letting Gahyun catch her breath again, waiting for the time she can take in your cock once more. She breathes in, she breathes out, and finally, she’s ready again.

“I’m not holding back this time, alright?” she says, determination sparks inside her eyes.

“S–Sure.”

She grabs onto your cock with her right hand, pulling you close, before she takes your cock into her mouth. This time, it’s more violent, more fervent. She catches her rhythm and doesn’t look back. She starts to bob her head back and forth on your cock, and doesn’t that make you whimper like a bitch?

“Nghhh~ s–so good,” you mewl.

Gahyun only replies with a giggle on your cock. Her grip is still firm. Her free hand fondles your balls gently, trying to coax cum out of you.

She catches her rhythm, moving her head in a hypnotic motion. She really wants you to cum under her influence like this. You hear her gag. You hear her choke. You hear her sputter.

The tension in your loins starts to rise again. You’re on the verge of cumming with the help of the earlier handjob, and she doesn’t seem to stop at all. That’s it. You’re unloading your cum inside of Lee Gahyun’s mouth, making her taste your white essence.

“G–Gonna cum,” you utter.

Gahyun responds by going as rapidly as she can on your throbbing cock. The sensation is electric. It shoots through you like a bullet. The knot tightens, and you can do nothing to stop it.

With the final stroke, you unload your pent-up lust into Lee Gahyun’s throat, making her taste your essence. Your body jerks forward in pure pleasure. You let out a low, guttural groan at your precipice, unable to make sense of the situation. She lets out a satisfied hum as she feels your white, hot cum hit the back of her throat. You’re probably salty, like the other women have said.

You slowly come down from your peak, finally catching your rhythm again. Your cock’s spurts turn into soft drizzles off the slit. Gahyun pulls off of your cock with a loud pop. What an obscene sight. Her face is a fucking mess—mascara, lipstick, it’s all wrong. You’re still too dazed to say a thing, though.

“You taste good,” she says, opening her mouth, sticking her tongue out lewdly to show the emptiness of her wet cavern. She drank it all.

“I–I wanna do this again,” you involuntarily utter from the depths of your heart. “I want you to suck my cock again.”

Maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of your words. Maybe it’s the wake of your climax. She bursts out a laugh, a genuine one. You watch her laugh awkwardly.

“Ask me–ha–properly,” she says. “Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Suck–”

“Suck my cock again?”

She lets out a chuckle, before answering, “Definitely, maybe.”

—

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Tis The Damn Season

♥ masterlist | request rules | 12 days of ficmas

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: lando’s certainly feeling the pressure of gift giving this holiday season. he wanted to give you something to show you he truly cares and turns to the grid for help.

♥ wc: 1.1k - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and fluffy fluff fluff !!!

♥ a/n: first day of ficmas with some platonic norstappen <3

Grill the Grid Secret Santa was a video all the fans looked forward to. It was a cute tradition—but everyone always ended up with a bunch of random crap they didn’t know what to do with. But after pulling your name this year, Lando had to make sure the gift was perfect

“I don’t see why you’re taking this so seriously,” Max laughed. “Charles cut out pictures of his own face for me a few years ago.”

“How romantic,” Lando replied, drawing an eye roll from Max. “I just don’t know what to get her.”

Max took a swig of beer, “And you think I do?”

Lando sighed, “I don’t know… I just—I don’t want to get her some random shit object that she’s gonna throw away. I want it to be important.”

“And when I asked you if you were into this girl you said no,” Max smirked.

“Shut up,” Lando said with a playful eye roll.

-

Lando

what the fuck do i actually get y/n for secret santa

Charles

You’re not supposed to tell us who you got :(

Carlos

Get her a jumper

Lando

I’m not getting her a lame ass jumper

Pierre

…i got carlos a jumper one year

Lando

I’m aware

-

Lando sighed and clicked off his phone, the only light source in his room. He switched on his bedside lamp and wandered around his bedroom looking for ideas.

He stepped towards a shelf, a few helmets and tchotchkes on display along with a framed picture of the two of you from your karting days. Sitting beside it was a few broken shards of china.

-2023 Hungarian Grand Prix-

Despite the cheering in the grand stands, you could hear the cracking of your first trophy as clear as day. The beautiful hand painted porcelain hit the ground hard, breaking in three different places after Lando popped the champagne.

It wasn't his fault of course. Accidents happen all the time. It was still a shame though. The first woman to win an F1 Grand Prix and her trophy breaks?

"This is misogyny, actually," your PR manager Morgan said, eliciting a laugh from you and a few drivers.

"I'm so sorry Y/n, I had no idea that would happen," Lando apologized profusely, a look of sincerity in his eyes.

"No, no, don't be sorry. It's okay," you promised.

"Congratulations, seriously. You had an amazing drive," Max praised you while wiping the sweat off the back of his neck.

You adjusted your cap, pulling your ponytail through the space between the clasp and fabric.

"'Thank you," you say breathlessly, gulping down a cold bottle of water.

"Alright, post race interviews for everyone and I'll find out about your new trophy Y/n," Morgan said, setting the broken pieces of porcelain on a table.

Your head spun with ideas what was going to happen to the broken ceramic. Whatever you had in mind never came close to what actually did happen with it.

Lando thought, "Maybe I could try finding the rest of the pieces and rebuild it?"

Absolutely not. Give her own fucking trophy to her as a gift? How lame.

He played with the jewelry on his veiny hands anxiously, caring way too much about the impression his future gift would give you.

Within seconds of this he was struck with the most perfect idea. He tucked the pieces of your trophy into his pocket and quickly made it out the front door, ready to begin a perfect Secret Santa.

-

“Alright,” an interviewer handed you a small box that was wrapped with colorful paper and a bow. “We need you to guess who this is from.”

You shook it carefully, noticing some rounded ridges that stuck out. You gently slipped the ribbon off with a single pull, used the tip of your nail to slice through some clear tape, and unwrapped the gift.

From the moment you pulled it out, everyone knew it was a ring box. The black velvet encapsulating it said everything.

“Wow am I getting proposed to on grill the grid?” you joked, stirring a laugh from the filming crew.

You opened the case to reveal a ring front and center. It wasn’t just any kind of ring though. There was gold rimming around the band and the purple-ish pink design that stood out perfectly on the white porcelain.

Along with that was a folded up picture of you and Lando. The one from karting. The same one he had in his bedroom.

Your heart completely melted, remembering the days where you two were so close.

“Well, this is clearly from Lando,” you smiled with a soft laugh, putting a hand over your heart.

“May I see the ring?” the woman interviewing you asked.

“Mhm,” you nodded, handing her over the glossy object.

She squinted to get a good look at the design.

“This looks like the hungary trophies you know,” she said, looking back up to you.

“It does,” a crew member agreed.

You held your hand out for the small object back and inspected it yourself. It couldn't possibly be...?

It was.

You placed the folded picture back into the box and kept the ring in your palm.

“Hang on,” you pulled out your phone and called Lando as the cameras kept rolling.

“Can you come over here? We’re by Ferrari hospitality.”

Within minutes Lando made his way to you alongside Max.

“Is this from my trophy in Hungary?” you held up the ring with two fingers.

“Yeah,” Lando nodded.

“Did you fucking steal my trophy?” you laughed.

“Only like a few pieces,” he held his hands up in surrender with a playful smile. “There were some on the floor that I stashed in my pocket to figure out what to do with later. Maybe ask an FIA person but we all know I didn't get around to that. What do you know? They were in my pockets at the end of the day and i just kept them on a shelf.”

“Well good thing you did,” you looked at the ring and slipped it on your finger. You walked over to him slowly and threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“It was one of the most, if not the most important moment in F1 history,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “I want you to always have a piece of that podium with you.”

You pulled away and wiped a tear from your eye with a laugh. With the memory of that day, the ring, and the picture of you and Lando as kids, all the emotions were starting to flood back.

“Fuck you for making me cry,” you laughed, using the sleeve on your sweater to wipe your face. You softly kissed his cheek and squeezed Lando’s hand before they cut the clip.

You’ll never live down that video. It’s mentioned probably a thousand times a day by fans alone shipping the two of you. But eventually, that first ring Lando ever gave you will sit on your finger right next to the wedding band he proposed to you with.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

taglist; @sainzzreputaticn @theseerbetweenus @yawn-zi

[eroselless]

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME 

Summary: You and Lando need to talk after what transpired on the car ride to the hotel. What will you both decide? [2.5k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 1 - LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, unprotected sex, oral, missionary

Note: Thank you all so much for the love, support and patience! I wanted it to be spicy but also a little soft, I hope it comes off that way. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I hope it's alright that I tagged everyone who commented on part 1! Happy reading, love you all!

The tension in the air is palpable. It’s fog clinging to the morning air, waiting to dissipate. It’s a sink threatening to overflow, every passing moment teetering closer to the edge of chaos. It’s a champagne bottle, waiting for just the right push to pop. Lando stands with his back to the hotel door as you stand in front of your bed, fidgeting with your fingers. The silence in the elevator and the walk to the room is almost frightening. The adrenaline from the car ride had slowly faded as you stood, frozen in place. Your palms feel sweaty, your heart pounding in your chest. You both stand in the limbo of uncertainty’s clutch. 

“What if we just –”

“We can pret –”

Your words collide in the air, an awkward and strained laugh escaping the both of you. Doubt begins to gnaw at your mind, maybe he’s regretting it? You wonder. Maybe he was in need of some release and you happened to give it to him. 

“If you want,” you begin tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. “We can pretend this never happened.” 

Lando takes in a sharp breath, nodding. He shifts from foot to foot, bottom lip curled between his teeth as he nervously bites into it. He blinks, eyes watering. His chest begins to tighten up and he feels like he could break down then and there. Maybe in the spur of the moment, his lapse of judgment was the final straw that broke the camel's back and you’re eager to forget about the eventful ride over.  

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sitting down on his bed. His voice is quiet, barely audible as he twists his fingers in his hands. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes and stares down at your shoes. 

A heavy silence envelops the room, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, anticipation building in the man who sits before you. Blinking the tears that had snuck into your eyes, you shake your head. Your chest feels heavy as you answer him.

“No.”

The single word cuts through the air like a knife and hands there for a second. Time stands still for a moment as Lando’s head whips up to look at you. Time crashes down over you as he collides with you.

You weren’t quite sure of what you expected from your first kiss with Lando yet as his lips brushed with yours you couldn’t help but be struck by how perfect his lips felt on yours. His hands are cradling your cheeks, fingers pressing lightly into your skin as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like fine porcelain. There is a delicate urgency in how his lips dance over yours. Years upon years of longing rising to the surface of your skin. His tongue slips past your lips, he can taste the remnants of the wine from earlier, a mixture of desire and indulgence. 

His hands move with a purpose, one gently placed at the joint of your jaw, a possessive gesture that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. The other rests firmly on the small of your back, pushing you closer with a quiet promise of ecstasy to come. He nudges your chin up with his hand, moving slowly and carefully. 

He pulls away, eyes droopy and half-lidded with desire. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You’re both heaving as you stand in the middle of the room, taking a moment to admire one another. The youthfulness and beauty of his face are so much more evident up close. It's nothing short of captivating. You had always thought he was handsome but now you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You can count the freckles scattered on his sun-kissed skin, the speckles of colour in his eyes are like shards of glass and his long lashes frame them beautifully. 

His hands fall from your face, sliding down and behind your shoulders. “Turn around,” he says. You comply, moving to face the other way. His hands move over the expanse of your back and you get a flashback to the moment you sat in his lap, just under 15 minutes ago.  His breath is fanning on your back, a familiar chill surging through your body again. 

His fingers land on the zipper of your dress, tugging on it as he asks for your permission to take it off. You nod, collecting your hair to one side. He pulls the zip down, fingers dragging lightly over the increasingly exposed skin. He presses his mouth tenderly to your spine, pulling a shaky breath from your lips. He pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, sending the fabric to the floor. It leaves you standing in your underwear, having foregone a bra. You turn around to face him, eyes scanning his face once again.

His lips find their way to your jaw, nipping lightly at it. You push his blazer from his shoulders, moving to unbutton his crisp white shirt. 

He shoves you lightly but with enough force to send you falling back onto the bed. He can’t help but admire you as you lay there. Your hair is out in a halo around your head and you're propping yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide as you gaze up at him.

He pulls his trousers off and you can see the shape of his cock through his boxers. Lowering himself on top of you, he litters kisses over your chest, lips coming to wrap around a pebbled nipple. You arch your back slightly at the feeling of his lips over the sensitive bud. Your hand goes to his hair, threading through it as he pushes his face further into the plushness of your tit. His other hand is snaking down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he moves down, sitting back on his knees. He pulls a leg up over his shoulder, beginning to trail kisses from your ankle to your knee. Your skin is soft and warm, goosebumps starting to bloom over it. 

You’re nervous as he makes his way up your thigh, teeth teasingly dipping into the soft skin. You let out a gasp as he does so, moving his lips to your other leg. In an instant, he’s back at the top of your leg, at the junction where they meet. He kisses the damp fabric of your underwear, eyes peering up at you. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks innocently. You hesitate, heart threatening to pop out of your chest. You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His fingers hook around your underwear, pulling them down swiftly. Your knees come together on instinct.

He lets out a small chuckle, moving onto the floor in front of the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the crook of your knees, pressing a kiss to each one. 

“I want a taste.” He hums, only causing your heart to beat faster. His hands move up to take hold of your hips, pressing his cheek to your knees as if to ask are you ready? He waits until you’ve given him a small yet decisive yes before gently pulling your legs open. He goes straight to your sex, pressing his lips to your folds before spreading them open, making a v with his fingers. He teases you, letting out a single soft puff. His tongue darts out, dragging over the sensitive flesh but not over the part where you need him most. This causes your hips to buck up, aching for more of his touch. He continues, now plunging his tongue inside you.

“Fuck –” you moan out, body beginning to tremble with need as he shoves his face even closer. Your fingers pull harshly at his hair as he flicks his tongue expertly at your hole, his groan sending vibrations through your body. His fingers grip tight at your hips, grounding you in place. He sends a red-hot feeling through you as he fucks the muscle into you steadily. It pokes into a spongy, sensitive spot within you. He pulls away, blowing gently at the wet skin. 

“God, baby. You taste so fucking good.” 

He slips a finger in, thumb moving in careful circles over your clit, eliciting more moans from you. A smile is playing on his lips, as you feel yourself teetering towards the edge, a coil tightening in your gut. You cry out, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Your hips are bucking and your legs try to close around his head.

He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you, easing you down from your orgasm. Your chest heaves and you shake breathlessly. He pulls away, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes sparkle with lust as he presses his lips one more time to the skin of your thigh. It’s a look you’d only imagined in your mind. 

He stands over you, admiring how you look with your cheeks flushed and a light layer of sweat on your skin. Your chest is rising up and down quickly as you come down from your high. You’re staring up at him, eyes hazy and lips parted. You look ethereal, a piece of art hanging in a museum, the image of perfection. 

Regaining your breath, your hands work on Lando’s boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free. It taps lightly at his stomach, a bead of pre-cum on the red angry tip. You wrap a hand around it, thumb going to run over the crease of the head. Lando hisses and shakes his head at you begin to jerk your hand. His voice is strained as he tells you no.

“Not tonight,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Just need to be inside you.”

You nod, moving up the bed, into its centre. He crawls over you, showering your body with kisses as he does so. A kiss right over your pubic bone, one on your ribcage and the last one over the corner of your mouth. 

He stares into your eyes as he pushes in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to keep him quiet. He fills you in a single movement, one powerful thrust. Your breath hitches as he does so, lips forming a tight o. You can feel his cock hit you just at the right spot, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. The squeeze of your cunt around his cock was better than Lando could have imagined. 

He’s pushing your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts a slow grind. He rolls into you, pushing deeper and deeper as he goes. He feels so good, it’s almost unbearable. You’re completely at his mercy, his touch spreading fires in you, wherever it goes. 

You're writhing beneath him as he kisses you. His tongue is darting into your mouth, stealing your breath away. 

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he says over the sound of himself sliding in and out of you with ease. The sound is slick and wet, it’s filthy yet it only makes you fall deeper into pleasure’s embrace. Your body molds perfectly into him and you find yourself wondering how you’d never noticed that before. All those times when he held you, when you held him. There were so many signs and you were both oblivious to them. 

He pushes down on your lower tummy and it presses something deeper within you. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands find purchase on Lando’s shoulder, pulling him down so you’re almost chest to chest. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he mumbles, lips against the shell of your ear. You clench around him, the words only spurring you on. He continues to fuck you into the mattress, stroking your walls just right. 

“Lan, I –” you begin to say. The buildup is getting too much as you feel yourself swing closer to your climax. Lando can feel it too. The spasming of your body, the slight arch of your back. The air is knocked out of your chest as the moment hits, pleasure crashing over you. His name falls from your lips like a mantra and he only pushes faster. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you now. He thrusts into you one last time before he tips over the edge, losing himself then and there. 

You feel him let out a gasp as he collapses over you in a sweaty mess. His body is heavy laying on top of yours but it isn’t uncomfortable.  His skin is sticky and his breath fans over your neck. You’re both breathing heavily as the energy in the room begins to diminish. Your hand goes to thread through his unruly curls as he peppers light kisses to the column of your throat. 

He gets up after a few minutes, telling you to sit still as he does. He returns with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess you’ve made together. He tosses it away and crawls back towards you, pulling the cover over the top of your bodies. 

He stills against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mind only filled with thoughts of you. He can only really think of how flawlessly you fit together. Or the feeling of how delicious you feel pressed up against him. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make a move,” he says, peering up at you. You smile, shaking your head. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” 

You both carry on there for a second, his cheek now pressed to your chest. His eyes have begun to flutter close as the gentle sound of your breathing slowly lulls him to sleep. His fingers are softly tracing circles on your ribcage where he holds you. There are no words exchanged between the two of you but there’s so much said in the silence as you cling to each other. 

“Lan..” you whisper, voice soft. He hummed in response, squeezing you. You nibbled your lip nervously as the words waited in your mouth.

“I love you.” his fingers stop in their tracks. He let out a gentle, barely audible chuckle. You’re unsure of what his reaction is.  He rises to his elbows and bounces slightly on the mattress, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, voice husky. His fingers are now prodding at your side and you let out bouts of laughter as he does.

“I love you.” he nips at the soft skin of your neck, evoking a laugh out of you. His energy seems renewed as his lips continue their dance over your skin and he gradually makes his way up to your face.

“I love you too,” he says, his smile wide, pulling you on top of him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

@noneofyourfbusinessworld

@shellybee456

@m4rt10ne

@roostersluvvr

@playboygeniusphilanthropist

@landoslutmeout

@mlfdcm

@landosmybf

@fortunatelychocolatefest

@katieschry1

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@idontcare011

@mylifeislikecandycanes

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 6

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Frottage - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Being an award winning actress isn’t as easy as some might think. Award shows themself are one of the more difficult events to tackle. But luckily, during this ceremony, you get to meet some of your favorite idols, and they get to meet their favorite actress.

—————————————————————

“And after the awards ceremony there’s an after party at The Plaza.” Your agent’s voice is strictly business in the back of the limousine. 

You’re playing with the fabric of your gown while absentmindedly listening to her. 

“Do I have to be on set tomorrow?”

“Yes, your call is at 9:00 AM. Transportation will be at your hotel at 7:30.”

You groan and look up at the ceiling. “Why do they always put these award shows on weekdays?”

“Your weekends aren’t exactly free anymore, either.” 

Yes, you’re aware. 

The life of an actress was not easy. Especially an award winning one. Right now, you are the hot, new, up-and-coming actress that everyone has their eye on. The actress that every director wants in their movie, their TV show, their commercials– everything.

Currently, you’re in the middle of filming a TV show that has a high fantasy aesthetic to it. You’re the main role in the show, the main badass warrior that everyone roots for. The kind of character that has a million and thirty Tik Tok edits of her.

It’s one of those shows where your character is constantly going through the wringer. The amount of bruises that you have to sport on camera increases each day; real and fake. 

Your nerves begin to creep up on you the closer you get to the award venue. 

Red carpets were one of the hardest parts of the job. Memorizing lines? Easy. Learning blocking and fight choreo? You do that every day. 

Talk to strangers and pose for pictures? No, thank you. 

Who were you wearing again?

“This dress is Gucci, right?”

“No, it’s Christian Siriano. I’m glad you asked. Your jewelry is Gucci and your shoes are Prada.”

You stare at your agent blankly, she hasn’t looked up from her tablet once. You were not made for this part of the job.

“Jesus…” you sigh and lean back into the cushioned seat. 

“While we’re at it, do you even know what award you’re up for?”

“Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, right?”

“And?”

“And?” you repeat incredulously. “I thought I was only up for one!”

Finally, your agent looks up with a smirk. “Trick question, you passed. Proud of you.”

You can’t help but laugh and look out the window. “You know I’m nervous as all hell, don’t test me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you have this in the bag.”

“That’s exactly what I’m nervous about. I have to get up, walk up those stairs in these Gucci—“

“Prada.”

“Prada shoes. And then make an acceptance speech in front of everyone. Millions of people. No pressure.”

She laughs and looks down at her tablet again. “You’re very charming and everyone loves you, you can talk the paint off a wall, Y/N, just be yourself.”

Grumbling, you cross your arms over your chest. But you can’t sit still in that position for too long at all. You’re too fidgety. 

In front of you, there’s a chilled bottle of champagne. You pour it into one of the flutes and sip it entirely too fast for the quality of the drink. ‘Sip’ is putting it gently, you down it. 

A second glass is poured, but you choose to hold that one in your hand tightly. Absent-mindedly, you swirl the champagne around, watching the bubbles form and pop up at the top. 

A few moments of silence pass, you begin to mutter to yourself to ease the stress. “Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes. Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes..”

The crowd starts getting louder the closer you get to the event. Cameras are already flashing outside your limousine. 

“I haven’t even told you who’s going to be there.”

Your agent sounds extremely smug all of a sudden. When you look over at her, there’s a cocky smirk on her face. 

“Who?” With that look, you’re not even sure that you want to know the answer. 

“Maybe put the drink down before I tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spill it on your…”

“Christian Siriano.”

“Christian Siriano dress.”

After downing the contents once more, you put the glass down. 

“Okay, who?”

Her smile grows even wider. “You know Stray Kids, right?”

Your face pales, even under all that makeup all the color drains from your skin. 

“They’re going to be there?”

She knows, she knows you’ve been a fan for a while. You were a Stay before fame came your way. 

Your agent smiles and nods, the light from her tablet illuminating her face. 

“Don’t play with me,” your voice is strained. “That’s mean.”

You’ve been keeping your admiration of them on the down low for so long. Now that you’re in the public eye, you have to be very low key about things. 

It was killing you. 

“They did a soundtrack song for a show, it’s up for an award.”

You were nervous before. Now you’re downright hysterical. 

“They’re going to be there? All eight of them?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

The limousine comes to a gradual stop. The screams outside are deafening, even through the car doors. 

“Will I see them?” You ask, gathering your skirt up to try and assist with a graceful exit out of the limo. 

“Probably!” There’s a little hint to her voice that you can’t quite put your finger on. What is she doing? What does she know? 

The driver comes around the limousine and you take a deep breath, activating your celebrity face. 

It’s never hard for you to muster a genuine smile. You’re humble about your life, you know how lucky you are. Thinking about how far you’ve come is all the motivation you need to let the corners of your lips perk up.

“Ready?” Your agent asks.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door opens and the roar of the crowd goes insane. You’re practically blinded by the flashes of the cameras. 

You do your very best to keep a level head and follow the instructions of the security team around you. 

In the meantime, as you walk into the venue, you turn and smile at the fans behind the barricades. 

Sending them hand hearts, waving enthusiastically back at them. You look up at your head security guard.

“Can I please go sign a few autographs?”

He looks down at you, obviously annoyed. But annoyed in the fatherly way. Just by the look on his face, you knew he was going to say yes. 

You quickly pick up your skirt and walk over to the barricade. The screams get louder and louder the closer you get. 

“Hi! Hi!” You greet all the fans as they scream for you. So many different objects are thrust over the fence for you to sign. 

You grab a marker and begin leaving your signature over everything in sight: posters, shirts, books. 

Several selfies are taken with you. Every single fan is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but spend extra time with them. 

They reach out and grab your hands, you hold them back and have conversations with them. 

You always do this. It’s something you’re very well known for. 

“Miss Y/N.” your security guard says gruffly behind you. 

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, guys. It was so nice meeting you, and it was nice seeing you again!” You point to a fan that you recognized from a convention you attended a few months ago. 

After blowing a few more kisses, you leave the barricade and head towards the red carpet. 

If it was up to you, you would’ve stood there and talked with your fans all day and never gone into the awards ceremony. They’re the reason you’re here, after all. 

Walking along the carpet, you plaster a smile on your face and wave to all the photographers. You stand still right in the middle of the space and strike several different practiced poses. 

You make sure to look in all different directions and show off the dress hugging your body beautifully. 

It’s a dark yellow gown with huge puffed sleeves that sit off your shoulders. The center of the gown dips down to show off your cleavage. The rest of the skirt poofs out in a princess style. 

It’s absolutely gorgeous. Crafted to show off your body in the best way.

All the photographers call out your name, all of them trying to get your attention. 

You wave to several that you recognize and say hello to others. 

Your short minutes on the red carpet run out and you quickly make your way across to the other side to link arms with your agent. 

She pats your arm, “Great job! Now for the hard part.”

On the other side of the red carpet there are several different magazines, websites, and other fashion sources lined up with interviewers stationed in front of cameras. 

“I studied for this, remember?” you tease her and hug her arm closer before letting go. 

The first interview you do is with Vogue, they had grabbed your attention so fast you almost got whiplash. 

How’s the show? Who are you wearing? Are you nervous about tonight?

These are all questions you prepared for.  

Next interview was with Vanity Fair. You had recognized the interviewer, so you approached her first. 

“Y/N!” Her face lights up when she sees you.

“Hi!” you answer just as cheerfully, wrapping her in a big hug and then holding her out at arms length. “How have you been?”

“So good, you?”

“Can’t complain– busy. I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too! Do you have time for an interview?” She asks hopefully. 

“I always have time for you.”

She says thank you and her camera man gets into place. A second microphone is handed to you. Before you can blink, she’s in interview mode. 

You smile and listen to her introduction.

“I am here with, Y/N L/N, star of the Emmy award winning show, Kings and Pirates. How are you doing tonight, Y/N?”

You lift the microphone up to your mouth and speak into it happily. “I’m doing great, thank you! Always a pleasure to be talking with you on the red carpet.”

“You flatter me, Y/N! Now tell us the obvious question here: Who are you wearing?”

“I am wearing an original Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, and Prada shoes.”

“The entire outfit is beautiful! An amazing dress to hopefully show off when you win Best Actress tonight…?”

You laugh humbly. “I don’t know, there are so many amazing actresses nominated tonight. A girl can hope, but when I see the other names around mine, I can’t help but be anxious.”

The interviewer opens her mouth to ask another question, but the crowd absolutely erupts in cheers. Louder than when you got out of your limo, louder than some concerts you’ve attended. 

“Oh my god, I think someone important just showed up.” You joked into the microphone. 

Both you and the interviewer are looking across the carpet, craning your necks to see if you can get a glimpse of whoever just stepped out. 

“Minho! Hyunjin! Felix!” Crowd members scream out several names and your heart rate skyrockets. 

“Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids.” You accidentally say into the mic. 

“Oh wow! Are you a Stay?” She asks you. Your head whips around and a dark blush covers your cheeks. 

Laughing nervously, you look down at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “Ah… well, yeah. I’ve been a fan of theirs for years now.”

“Did you know they were going to be here tonight?”

“I was told it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Joke after joke makes the interviewer and her cameraman laugh. 

The interview continues without a hitch. But the entire time all you want to do is turn around  and see if you can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids. 

Yes, you’re famous. But you’re just a Stay at heart. 

You say your goodbyes with the interviewer and turn to move onto the next one. 

A gasp catches in your throat as soon as you step away. 

All eight of them are right there, doing their own interview with Buzzfeed. They’re smiling and laughing about something. 

You’re just able to stare. They’re right there. You’ve never been in the same space as them. 

Act professional, Y/N! Stop acting like a fangirl, you’re literally on the clock right now!

Their laughter is contagious and you find yourself smiling as you turn away and walk to another interviewer trying to flag you down. 

“… excited to maybe meet tonight? You guys are usually at music award shows, so this is definitely new for you! There’s some new faces that you probably have never seen before.”

“We actually were just talking about this on the ride over,” Chan says to the interviewer, ever the front man. “We’re all huge fans of Kings and Pirates, we watch it together every week when new episodes come out. We joked that it would be an amazing opportunity to say hi to Y/N L/N.”

It’s like the red carpet is pulled right out from underneath your feet. 

“But that would be like trying to get a private conversation with royalty, you know?”

You? They want to meet you? They watch your show? Every week? Together? 

“I think I just saw her around…” the interviewer trails off, by her tone you can tell she’s looking around for you. 

Act casual, Y/N. Pretend like you weren’t listening to every word of their interview closely. Act normal for once in your life.

“Ah, no way.” Chan’s thick accent reaches your ears. He sounds so shy by his tone. Several other members murmur and tease one another. 

“Oh, there she is! Y/N!” The interviewer grabs your attention— she technically already had it. 

The members begin to get louder when you turn your head to look at the entire group of them staring at you. 

When your eyes meet all of theirs, each of them freeze like a deer in headlights. Do they even know who they are?

You can’t tell if you’ve gone sheet white or bright red. Your heart is beating so fast it might explode. 

The interviewer waves you over, you look over at the other one you were walking to and hold up a finger to say ‘one moment’ before walking over to the large group of them. 

“Hi, hi!” You cheer casually when you come up next to them. 

All right members look absolutely starstruck. Jeongin’s eyes look like they might bug out of his head. 

They all bow politely when you join the group. 

Chan’s bow is a second later than everyone else’s. He’s too busy staring in absolute disbelief. 

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” the interviewer says. You think you recognize her from another event. 

“You as well,” you respond with a beautiful smile.

“Let’s get you a mic— oh, we have no more— maybe someone— can share?”

Chan is the member closest to you, he immediately angles the mic your way. He does it so fast and eagerly it almost hits right into you. 

You giggle and thank him, “Thank you! It’s good to see you too,” you repeat and step a bit closer to him to make sharing easier. 

He smells so good. You can feel his body heat radiating onto your bare shoulders. Thankfully, the outdoor chill isn't affecting you much due to your adrenaline being so high. 

“Y/N, before I ask anything else, I do need to ask who you’re wearing.”

“Oh, a Christian Siriano original with accessories by Gucci and shoes by Prada.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the interviewer compliments. 

A light giggle comes from your chest and you go to thank her. It’s under his breath but you hear Chan say something along the lines of ‘that’s an understatement.’

“I did call you over here for a specific reason, besides the fact that we would love to interview a nominee for Best Actress. It seems you have eight fans all eager to meet you!”

You turn and look over at the members with wide eyes. “Oh my god!” You say out loud and your hand flies to your chest. “I am literally honored!”

“You know Stray Kids?” The interviewer asks. 

Well, if they already said they were fans… 

You lean down into the mic and laugh, “I have been a Stay for so long, are you kidding?”

Every single one of them don shocked expressions. Chan goes stiff as a board. 

You look at each of them with one of the most gorgeous smiles across your face. “When I was called over here with you guys I thought I was going to pass out. I had your discography playing in the room while my stylists got me ready.”

All eight of them move around like little kids meeting their idols for the first time. They each stare at you with literal stars in their eyes. 

“The first album that caught my attention was In Life, actually. Haven is my favorite song.”

You rain compliment after compliment down on them.

“It’s truly an honor to meet you, we’re all such huge fans.” Felix is the one that breaks the silence into the mic. The rest of them all nod eagerly. 

“Since we’re all fans of Kings and Pirates,” the interviewer brings your attention back. “Do you think you could give us a small spoiler for the new season coming out?”

“Ah,” you laugh and look around a bit, sucking your teeth in thought. “I reaaally shouldn’t, but…” You look to the side to make eye contact with all the members but Chan’s piercing gaze is the one that stole your breath away. 

His stylist had done his hair in such a natural, curly way. Every single strand is sitting perfectly on his head. The makeup on his face highlights his features angelically. 

Especially that beautiful nose of his. 

Each of them wore black tie suits with a bit of personal flair on them. Chan’s entire suit, including the undershirt and tie, was black. 

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, not that anyone noticed. To them, it just looked like you were thinking of a small spoiler to give away. 

“I think that fans can look forward to seeing an old face that we previously had to say goodbye to.”

Jeongin eagerly grabs Han’s arm and says something in his ear. The two of them start whispering about what the spoiler could possibly mean. 

The rest of them all move around anxiously. Except Chan. He continues to stare at you with his lips parted slightly. 

You hold his eye contact for one more moment before looking back at the interviewer with a sinfully sweet smile. 

“Wow!” She says over-dramatically on purpose, “I think us fans have a lot to look forward to. Best of luck to all of you with your nominations tonight!”

“Thank you so much!” You chirp into the mic and stand there with a smile while she does her required sign off to go back to the main camera back in LA. 

During those few moments, you feel Chan shift his weight so that his entire arm brushes against yours. Goosebumps immediately fly up your shoulder and through your neck. 

It takes every muscle in your body not to react to it.

He’s still holding the mic between the two of you just in case you need to speak again. You want to turn your head and look at him so badly. 

You want to talk to him in the worst way; ask him questions about the music, even just how his day is, anything. 

The cameras cut and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, next to you, you see the eight of them deflate a bit too. 

The interviewer says her thanks and the crew takes the mics back from everyone. 

“It really was a pleasure meeting you guys,” you say with your hand on your heart again. “Words cannot describe how honored I am to be talking to you all.”

“Are you kidding?” Chan jokes. “We all feel the same way. I don’t think we even thought we would be able to stand near you tonight.”

You laugh and see your agent signaling you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bah! I’m just a girl, really! Best of luck to you guys tonight, I’ll be cheering extra loud from the crowd when you win!”

“The same goes for us,” Chan smiles. He sticks his hand out and you immediately grab it. 

Electricity shoots up your arm and you have to bite your cheek to keep yourself from screaming. 

Your hands shake and you say your goodbyes to each of the members before walking away to your next interview. 

As soon as they think you’re out of earshot, they all begin talking rapidly to one another about you. 

“Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Stay!”

“Oh my god, I think I blacked out, did that really happen?”

“You lucky bastard, you got to shake her hand and share your mic with her.”

“Stop acting like a middle schooler.”

Their voices fade into the background the further you get from them. You just can’t help but smile and look down at the floor sheepishly. 

---------------------------------------

“I’ll find you after the awards show, okay, hon?” Your agent catches your attention as you walk into the auditorium. 

She grabs both of your forearms lightly and kisses your cheek. “Best of luck to you, don’t make yourself look stupid on stage.”

That last part is whispered into your ear and it makes you laugh. “I won’t! I won’t!”

She says her goodbyes once more and you look up at the usher waiting for you. 

This award show has its nominees all sitting around large dinner tables. There’s about ten people per table. 

For your show, you were the only one nominated for an award tonight, so not even your director or crew was here to sit with you. 

The usher held out his arm for you to take and you did so with a gracious smile. There’s a reason you’re known for charming everyone you meet. 

He leads you through the vast room. Several fellow actors call your name and greet you, and you respond to each one happily. 

“Here we are, Miss Y/N.”

No way. Absolutely no way. 

Seated around the entire table are the eight members you saw mere minutes ago, their manager taking the ninth seat. 

Sure enough, your name is printed on a sign draped over the back of the chair. 

Minho looks up at you first and waves sheepishly. You immediately wave back.

If Lee Minho waves, you wave back. 

“Hi again!” You greet them all before turning up and gently laying a hand on the usher’s bicep to thank him. He bows his head once and walks off. 

Chan, who was seated next to your empty chair, practically springs out of his seat and stands next to you. 

“I can’t believe this,” you tell him with a wide smile. He mirrors it and holds his hand out to the chair. 

You laugh while he grabs the back of it and pulls it out from the table. 

It takes a little bit of special maneuvering, but you manage to fold your poofy skirt down in order to sit down. Chan pushes your chair back in and takes his seat next to you. 

He now sits on your left, Seungmin on your right. 

“I guess I would’ve met you guys tonight regardless, then!” 

“It seems that way,” Chan answers. He reaches up and rubs the side of his neck with his hand. 

Now, from years of being a fan, you know that’s a nervous tick of his. And with your friendly nature, all you want to do is soothe him. 

“It’s like I’m getting a deluxe, VIP fan meeting. When Stay watches the award ceremony they’re all going to put a bounty on my head.” 

They all laugh and you turn to look at Seungmin, “Can I have an autograph before I die? I didn’t bring any of my albums with me, though.”

He laughs at your joke and your heart smiles with his beautiful grin. 

“I knew I should’ve brought a photocard with me.”

Behind you, Chan shifts around. “You bought our albums?”

You turn back to him, “Of course I did. I wanted to support you guys. Best way to do that is streaming your music and buying the albums, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. Just didn’t think I’d ever meet a celebrity I admired and find out they’re a Stay.”

You giggle and lean forward on the table. “I hope that’s not weird. I think I would’ve exploded if I didn’t tell you guys how big of a fan I was.”

“Not weird at all, just unexpected.”

“I guess I feel the same way, especially after hearing that you guys watch the show.”

“We love the show!” Han tells you from across the table. “Sometimes Minho will cut dance rehearsals early for us to go back and watch it.”

“Seriously?” you ask. “Wow, that really means a lot, you have no idea.”

“It’s easy to be a fan of yours,” Chan grabs your attention. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve met in a while.”

Oh, you are practically kicking your feet around. 

“Fame is a whole other universe to tackle. I wanted to make sure I treat my fans and everyone around me the way I wanted to be treated before all this happened to me. It’s important not to lose yourself. But I know you guys all know that already. You’re masters at it.”

“Hyunjin still lets it get to his head.” Felix jokes. 

“What!”

The pre-show continues like this as the rest of the celebrities file in. Many stop by your chair and say hello to you.

With each one, you get up out of your seat, hug and kiss them hello, then sit back down only to be interrupted again. 

“You certainly are popular,” Chan comments after you say goodbye to a fellow actor. “That last guy crossed the room to come say hi to you.”

With a giggle, you joke, “Is someone jealous?”

He stiffens for a moment, his back going straight and he clenches his fists on the tabletop for a moment. “No.”

His answer is not firm at all. 

Before you’re able to analyze it, producers come out among the audience to tell everyone the cameras are about to begin rolling. 

“When is your award in the lineup?” You whisper over to Seungmin. 

“Right before yours, actually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you all backstage then.”

You both smile at each other and shift back in your chairs. 

Several cameramen come out into the audience with their large sets of equipment. One of them is very obviously hovering by you. 

You know he’ll signal you if you’re being shown. The teleprompters strategically placed along the venue also show what is being broadcasted. 

Opening music begins playing and the lights dim among the audience. The centerpieces on the tables give off an evening glow. 

A waiter comes over and places your drink on the table. You actually had forgotten you requested one before sitting down. 

You thank him and he takes his leave. 

“What’s that?” Chan whispers in your ear. 

“Espresso martini,” you answer. “Wanna try?”

Chan looks over at his manager, who is busy watching the host make his opening speech. He nods quickly and leans down, taking a long sip off the top. 

A tiny ‘mmm’ comes from the back of his throat and he looks at you while licking his lips a bit. 

“Oh that’s delicious.”

“And dangerous.”

You lift the glass and take a long sip from it and place it back down on the table. 

“I got my first major role fresh out of college. I’m still learning how to not rely on alcohol to have fun.”

Chan just laughs and both of you direct your attention to the host on stage. 

“-and if all else fails, we have our lovely knight in shining armor to protect us, tonight.”

The camera man turns and has the camera on your face. You smile brightly and blow a kiss into the camera. The entire audience lets out several positive reactions. 

When the camera cuts away, you let out a sigh of relief. “I knew they were gonna do that.”

You take another large swig of your drink. It’s almost empty already. Curse these fancy people and their tiny portions. 

Chan leans over and suddenly his hot breath is on your skin. Goosebumps rip down your body and you can’t suppress a shiver. 

“Careful,” he whispers lowly. “I don’t think you want to be stumbling onto the stage.”

“I think you underestimate my alcohol tolerance, Mr. Bang.”

You both make eye contact.

The audience applauds as the host leaves the stage and the first announcer comes on. Both of you clap and Chan leans away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.

His cologne lingers around your senses even after he’s gone. 

Dammit, he’s right. But, my god, you need another stiff drink.

---------------------------------------

“And here are the nominees…” The announcer says into the mic. The entire table is holding their breath. 

This was it, this was Stray Kids’ award. Your jaw clenches with anticipation as the names are read off one by one. Individually, you crack each of your knuckles anxiously.

All eight of the members are staring up at the screen, each of them have their own nervous ticks. 

You reach under the table to try and comfort Chan a bit, your hand landing on his knee. He jumps in place at the table at the contact.

Without looking at each other, he places his hand on top of your and squeezes a bit.

“It’s going to suck when I have to sit here by myself after you guys win.” you whisper to him.

“If we win.”

“You’re going to win.” You squeeze his knee again.

“And the winner is…” 

You suck in a breath, all of them stiffen up. Cameras are pointed at each of the nominees tables. 

“Stray Kids!”

Immediately, you spring out of your seat with a gleeful cheer. Clapping your hands together and smiling at each of them. 

Without a second thought, Chan wraps you into a grand hug, pure joy written across his face. Your face morphs into a shocked one, but you hug him back happily.

He’s so warm. His hug is so tight.

After a few heartbeats, he tears himself off of you with an unreadable expression. All eight of them walk up to the stage and grab the award from the presenter.

Sitting back down, you take a second to catch your breath. 

So badly, you want to focus on their acceptance speech, but all you can think about was the way Chan held you. It went straight to your heart, and thanks to the alcohol in your veins, it traveled a bit south as well. 

Nervously, your hand comes up and rubs at your chest by your collarbones, a small nervous tick of yours.

The table feels so empty without the eight of them there. Their manager is the only one left sitting there with you. He’s watching their speech intently.

Both of you stand and clap once more as they walk off the stage. All of them pushing each other gleefully and playing slap ass. It makes you giggle.

All of the lights around the room shift again and another announcer comes into the stage. The same camera man as before comes around the side of the table to stand closer to you.

The announcer goes through their speech about how important actresses are, how each of you stood out, how it was an honorable nomination. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel each thud against your ribcage so closely. 

No one was next to you to hold your knee. 

“And the nominees are…”

Various clips of the other nominees in their element flash behind their names.

Your name is third. Several different dramatic scenes play out within the five second window. They chose some of your best scenes for that little animation. The next few nominees flash after that.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in your breath.

“Y/N L/N! King and Pirates!”

The entire audience erupts in cheers. Practically everyone stands up on their feet.

You bury your face in your hands in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” you practically yell as you stand up. 

An actor from the next table places his hand on your back to help you out of your chair. You smile gratefully at him and make your way up to the stage. 

During the entire walk, several different people offer you their congratulations, you thank each of them, shaking their hands. 

Climbing your way onto the stage, you make your way over to the announcer, kissing their cheeks as a thank you and turning to speak into the mic.

“Oh wow,” you laugh into the mic, looking down at the award and then back up at the audience. “I know everyone says this, but I really did not expect this! I mean, have you seen any of the other shows?”

A gentle laugh comes from the crowd. 

The rest of your acceptance speech is short, sweet, and to the point. The timer on one of the teleprompters definitely motivated you to speak quickly. 

As you walk away with your award, music plays behind you. A stage manager comes up to you and ushers you through the wings.

Several more congratulations come your way, you respond to each of them humbly.

You turn a corner and are met with a cheer even louder than the one from the auditorium full of people. 

All eight members of Stray Kids are clapping for you, jumping up and down in excitement. Your enthusiasm immediately matches theirs as you come up to them.

“I can’t believe it!” you say loudly, holding the award out to look at. “I think I’m dreaming!”

You turn and look up at Hyunjin, “Pinch me, I have to be asleep!”

He laughs at you and lightly grabs your arm. You yip dramatically and look back down at the trophy. “Nope, definitely awake!”

“If you guys would please find your seats, we need to clear this hallway.” a stagehand ushers your group away. He turns and looks down at you with a soft smile, “They wouldn’t leave until you came back.”

“Aww,” you coo to all of them. Your arm wraps around Jeongin’s, who happens to be the closest at the moment. “You guys are too sweet!” 

Your head rests on his arm and you hug it close as a thank you. He pats your hand and bends his arm to escort you back to your table.

A pair of deep brown eyes burn into the side of your head the more you grab onto Jeongin. Not that you noticed. 

Walking through the hallways, you see one back hall that has signs for the bathroom.

“Actually, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before going back to the table. I’ll meet you guys back there. Do you mind taking this back to the table for me?”

You drop Jeongin’s arm and hold the trophy out to him. The maknae is hesitant, but takes your award anyway. You laugh at him and rub his arm before you head back to the bathroom.

“Am I allowed to be holding this?” he asks as you walk away.

The venue was a grand, old hotel, you follow so many twists and turns to get to the bathroom. Was there even one back here?

Did you take a wrong turn? There aren’t even workers back here. 

You definitely aren’t supposed to be back here. Turning back and finding another bathroom is probably the best option at this point. 

A gentle grasp on your wrist makes your heart jump and a gasp tear from your throat. Frightened, you turn around and raise your hand to hit whoever snuck up on you. 

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Chan says quickly, cowering behind his hand just in case you still swing. 

“Ugh, Chan! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, I called your name a few times, I guess you didn’t hear me.” You shake your head, he sucks his teeth. “That explains it. Staff told me there’s no bathroom down here, I wanted to grab you before you got too lost.”

Chan chuckles nervously, you laugh too. “That explains it. I guess those signs must’ve been extras that they printed for the venue. Who knows?”

It’s now that you notice he’s still holding your wrist tightly in his hand. His hand is so warm, so soft. 

He nervously licks his lips and his eyes look all around the hall, anywhere but at you. His throat bobs with a gulp. 

“I don’t ah— I don’t believe I gave you a proper congratulations. So, congratulations on the award. You deserve it.”

“Oh!” You giggle. “Thank you! And a hearty congratulations to you as well, I can’t think of anyone who’s worked harder than you guys.”

Taking another step closer to him, you turn your wrist around and take a hold of his hand.

“I also can’t think of any other celebrities I would want to celebrate with.” The corners of your lips pull into a grin, Chan’s twitch as well. “You guys are so sweet, cheering for me. Made the win that much better.”

Slowly, his ears begin to turn red and his jaw clenches a few times. His chocolate brown eyes flit all over your face and around the hall. His nerves on clear display. 

“Yeah, well, you deserve it, so.” Chan clears his throat and adjusts the tie around his neck. “I can’t take credit for it, it was Changbin’s idea to wait for you and all.” 

You reach up on your toes and press a long, soft kiss to his cheek. With his lips right by your ear, you’re able to hear him gasp under his breath and then stop breathing. 

Underneath your lips, you feel how much heat is radiating off his smooth skin. It’s like you kissed a frying pan. 

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper against his skin. 

The hand around yours twitches and tightens. 

You press another kiss to his cheek before going to back away. 

Quicker than you can blink, Chan’s free hand comes around your body and holds you against him. His hand curls around you to press into the small of your back. 

Your head tucks under his chin, ear against the dip of his throat. His heart is beating just as fast as yours. 

“Not yet,” he whispers so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Please, not yet.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. How could you not? The Bang Chan is asking you to stay closer to him for just a little while longer. The same man you’ve admired from a distance for years. 

The man who created such a deep parasocial relationship with you that it took a lot of self reflection to bring yourself out of it. And now, here you were, in his arms in real life, tucked away in the hallway of this hotel. 

Smelling his expensive cologne and aftershave, listening to his shallow breathing, the entire world seems to stop. If your past self could see this, she’d probably pass out. 

Hell, you might pass out now. 

You squeeze his hand once and he responds with a grip of his own. 

Slowly, you pull your head back to gaze up at him. He stares down at you with the most thoughtful expression. 

Eyes are windows to the soul; and right now, his soul is so flustered and fulfilled at the same time. 

“I can’t believe tonight is real,” you murmur. 

Several times, you catch Chan’s eyes flicking down to your lips. Each stolen glance adds another butterfly to your stomach. 

His hand on your back pulls you even closer. 

“You keep talking as if you’re not one of the biggest names in the world right now.” he teases and you chuckle softly. “If anyone should be pinching themself, it’s me.”

His breath is cool and minty. Yours is tinged with espresso. 

Your tongue comes out and licks your bottom lip before you pull it between your teeth. Chan watches, trying not to make it obvious. 

“Can I try something?” Your question is deathly quiet. If it wasn’t for the silence of the hallway, there’s no way he would have heard it otherwise. 

“Yes,” he replies immediately. It comes out as a huff; quick, short, and desperate. 

“Close your eyes, Chan.”

He listens right away, his eyes snapping shut. 

You hesitate for a split second, just taking in his ethereal beauty. Every curve of his gorgeous, blemish free face. It’s not fair.

Both of his hands twitch, his jaw clenches. 

You lean up slowly and press a featherlight kiss on his plush lips. 

His shoulders seem to sag inwards, a large, relieved exhale leaves his nose. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyes, tingles shoot down into your fingertips. 

You pull back after a second, his eyes open a bit and Chan stares down at you, his lips parting for a moment. 

He stares intently into your eyes, as if trying to read you or see something within them. 

Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses you again. You melt into the kiss with half lidded eyes, they unfocus as you fall further into his kiss. 

Chan pulls back for a moment to turn his head and capture your lips once more, his bottom lip slotting between yours. 

Both of your eyes shut. 

Your hands move and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours as he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

Chan holds your waist with both hands, the heat from his hold going right through your dress. 

Each kiss is hot and heavier than the last. His grips at your dress grow needier and needier by the second, he can’t hold you close enough to his body.

Within moments, you’re both opening and closing your mouths, with open mouthed, wet, sloppy kisses. His eyebrows pull together.

Erotic pants fill the empty hallway.

You ever so gently bite down on his bottom lip and pull your head back. 

Chan sighs and his half lidded, hazy eyes look down into yours as his lip snaps back after you release it. 

He takes two long steps and walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. “You’ll have to tell me. I can’t do it myself. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers thread up through his hair on the back of his head and you pull him closer against you. 

Tangled tongues and gentle grunts mix together. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you ask lowly in between kisses. 

Chan groans and presses his entire body into yours. 

You felt like you’re on fire with the way you’re so feverishly pulling him closer. 

One his hands moves up and down your waist. The puffiness of your skirt getting in the way of his hips grinding directly into yours. 

“So beautiful,” he mutters between kisses. “So gorgeous.” Kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

It’s your turn to moan at his praise, you suck on his tongue and his eyes roll back in his skull. 

When you pull away from each other panting, you look around in the hallway. There’s a door right next to you both, where it leads, you’re not sure. 

Chan kisses your cheek and then makes his way down your neck with his lips. 

“Chan,” you moan out. 

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck. That goes right to your head and makes your stomach flip. 

He presses another wet kiss to your exposed collarbone and your head tilts back, knocking against the wall. He’s making it impossible to try and get any words out.

The hand on your ribcage squeezes when you let out a breathy exhale. 

“Did you need something?” he mouths against your neck and bites down right after. 

Oh, that cocky motherfucker. 

“Fuck, Chan…!” You pull at his hair. 

He brings his head up with a dopey look on his face, eyes half lidded and hazy. 

“Hm?” he hums and leans in, pressing another kiss to your check. 

One of your hands comes down and runs over his chest. You grab a hold of his tie and twist it around your hand before yanking on it. Your lips are right next to his ear and you make sure to let out hot exhales.

Chan gasps and presses a hand on the wall next to your head to keep his balance. A shiver wracks his body.

“You’re starting something you can’t finish.” The low, gravel timbre of your voice shocks even you for a moment. It’s raspy and sexy. It has an effect it has on Chan immediately. His pupils dilate and he takes a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, princess,” Chan bites your earlobe before blowing against it lightly. “I’ve never started something I didn’t intend on finishing.”

God, his voice. It’s like running your fingers over velvet. You yank his tie to the side and drag him towards the room like he’s on a leash.

Chan lets out a surprised grunt, but follows you nonetheless. Just like your little puppy begging you for your attention.

The entire walk over to the door, his hands are on your body. Anywhere Chan can reach, he’s touching you. 

When you push open the door, you’re happily surprised to find an empty dressing room. All the lights are off– perfect.

Once you both are inside, the door shuts and you push Chan against the back of it. Your lips desperately smashing together.

He’s everywhere on your body. His hands don’t stay in the same place for more than two seconds before he’s groping somewhere else. 

Blindly, he reaches for the door handle and clicks the lock in place. 

Your fist is still tightly curled around his tie, you wind it around your hand a few more times while your tongues tango. Sinfully wet noises emanate from your locked lips. Your other hand runs down his chest to unbutton his blazer.

Chan pushes off the wall and shucks the blazer off his shoulders, dropping it onto the ground. 

Never once do his lips leave yours. He’s intoxicating, you can’t get enough and neither can he.

He backs you up again until your ass hits a counter.

In one smooth movement, Chan reaches down and grabs your waist and lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs part and he stands in between them.

“This fucking dress,” he growls against your lips and nips your bottom one lightly. Desperately, he begins grabbing at the fabric, bunching it up around your hips. Underneath, you’re still clothed in stockings, corsets, spandex shorts, and many more.

He doesn’t seem to care. With both hands now grabbing your nylon-clad thighs, he brings both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

As soon as both of your hips meet, moans leave both of your mouths and you swallow each other’s. He’s hard as a fucking rock against you. So many layers of clothing separate the two of you from one another, it’s endlessly frustrating.

You pull his tie even tighter and one of his hands comes down to grip the edge of the counter for balance. 

Your hips roll against his once and he has to tighten his grip so much his knuckles turn white. 

“Do it again,” he whines against your mouth.

Who are you to say no? 

Again, you roll your hips up into his. This time, his hard cock rubs right against your clothed clit. It’s just enough to send a ripple down your legs and into your toes and they curl in your Prada heels.

You don’t stop in between hip rolls this time, you do it again and again and again. Each one feels better than the next.

It’s like your head goes underwater, deep within the riptide of the oceans of pleasure. 

And by the noises that are coming out of Chan’s mouth, you know he feels the same way. 

His hips begin to meet your thrusts with his own. Both of you are grinding into each other like teenagers in your parents’ basement. 

But you both are so needy at this moment that you’ll take anything you can get to scratch that insatiable itch. 

With each thrust, his exhales get heavier and heavier, whimpers and whines come out in between them. 

Your head kicks back against the mirror behind you after one particularly delicious roll. There’s no way you’re even on planet Earth right now with how much he’s making your body thrum.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans out and kisses your bare shoulder. 

You pull on his tie absentmindedly while you cry out when he thrusts even harder. 

“Wanna hear those moans with you on my cock,” he hisses when your legs tighten around his waist. “If I’m making you feel this good without touching you, think of how loud you’ll scream when I can finally fuck you into my mattress.”

“Chan-!” you whimper, your eyes squint closed, mouth falling open.

How is he so fucking good at this? Those dancer hips are merciless. It sends just the right amount of pleasure through your body.

“You know that Vogue photoshoot you did last month?” he moans into your ear, his lips right next to it. 

Your Vogue photoshoot was a borderline boudoir shoot. Only a black sheet covered you in most of your shots.

All you’re able to do is whine out an “uh-huh”.

“Babygirl, I can’t even think about that shoot without my cock getting hard. God, fu–huck! Shit.”

He’s going to make you cum just by grinding on you. You can feel it coming closer and closer. 

One of his hands travels up your body to grab at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jawline while he licks and nips at the other side. 

“Want you to pose like that for me. I want you all to myself.” He sounds like he would eat you whole if he could. And fuck, you would let him.

He could tell you to get on your knees and bark right now and you would.

“Close, Chan…” you whimper.

Just hearing that he’s going to make you cum makes his eyes roll in his skull. Every single wet dream of his is coming true under his own two hands. He has Y/N L/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressed against her clothed cunt, her skin in his mouth.

Is this what winning felt like?

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” he hisses and bites your neck.

“Yes! Shit! Don’t stop, please!”

When you try to meet his thrusts, your hips stutter, they’re unable to keep up with how fast he begins moving.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, need it so bad. Need it like I need oxygen.” Chan’s hand moves and he pulls your lips together.

He’s all consuming.

Three more thrusts and your body seizes, your orgasm gripping you so tightly that you think you might black out. 

You break free from his kiss to throw your head back. It thuds against the mirror. Your legs tighten around him so much he can barely move.

Chan rolls his hips a few more times, letting you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. Each one is slower and more sensual than the last.

After a few seconds, your legs loosen up a bit around him. Chan trails softer kisses down your neck, over both of your collarbones, then back up to your cheeks.

They’re gentle and sweet. So different from the way he was absolutely devouring you mere moments ago.

“Chan,” you pant out. “Let me help you.”

“Soon, baby. Not here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold card– a hotel roomkey. 

Chan leans forward and presses a long kiss to your swollen lips. While he’s attached to you, he slips the roomkey into the top of your dress where your breasts sat.

“The Mark, room 103. Fuck The Plaza, you have your own afterparty to attend to.”

[fandomout]

hi babe! ur a great writer, just letting u know

can i request a carl x reader where when they get kicked out in like s6, shes like this rich kid who bribes the bank into getting their house back? like the cops are kicking them out and she just pulls up with a notice, shoves it in their face and the cops leave? i think it’d be hilarious

lots of love🤍🤍🤍

Sorry about the late reply. I'm trying to get back into things. I hope you enjoy it.♥

Rich Reader helps Carl when they are getting evicted

Carl couldn’t stand what was happening to the house, but he wasn’t going to bring you into it.

He thought with Fiona’s loan looming over his head it seemed possible. After the auction, he didn’t want you finding out.

That particular early morning, you heard the sound of your parents popping champagne in the kitchen, and you walked up to them and asked, “What are you guys celebrating?”

You dad answers, “You know our top salesmen got a house bought in the area we are trying to buy out; When any of them go down, it just means another one, and another one, and ano-”

“I get it.”

Seeing yet again no response from Carl, out of sheer boredom you look over at the stack of papers on the kitchen counter top and you ask, “Do you mind if I take a look?” Your moms eyes go wide and reach for the papers, which causes the papers to fall.

In distaste, your mom says, “Look what you did.”

You apologize and help pick them up and a familiar picture catches your eye. It was the Gallagher house, having been sold and marked with the day before.

You stand up and shout, “What is this?!”

Your father responds nonchalantly, “Don’t get all riled up…”

“Why the hell would you do this?”

“Not us. It’s just apart of the workload. We didn’t do it personally.”

“Yeah I’m sure. You hate Carl.”

“Yes, we don’t like that boy you hang out with. However, we didn’t go looking to do this. It’s just a bonus.” You shake your head at them and leave the house.

You are on the way to the Gallagher house when you see Carl sitting on a bench at the school track with Nick.

You go up to him and shove him before screaming, “Why didn’t you fucking tell me, bone head?”

Nick stands up, and Carl waves him off. Nick goes onto his bike and begins to ride the track. You shove Carl once more and wait for a response. He yells, “What are you on about women?!”

“Don’t fucking start, Carl!”

The threat calms him down as he lowers his voice and says, “What is it Y/N? Geez…”

“Uhmm…I don’t know. Your house being sold.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?””

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Carl...It’s me.”

“You wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Ouch…However, fair.” He snickers. You put a hand on his shoulder and comment, “You can tell me anything Carl. I’m here for you whatever you need.”

“Well, really there isn't much to do. They outbid us last night…Even after Fiona getting a loan, and everyone else scraping up what they could.”

“I could’ve helped.”

“No. Fiona didn’t want my money. I doubt she’d want yours. She wouldn't’ have taken it.”

“But, still-”

Carl's phone rings. It was Debbie, and she was freaking out. You could hear it as she yelled, “I need you like fucking now!” Carl looks over to you and says, “The cops are taking our stuff out.” You stand up and tell him, “Well, let's go.” Carl waves Nick over, and you head over to the house.

You can’t believe the sight of the he cops just taking their things out the house and throwing them like nothing. Carl notices that you haven’t moved from your spot and asks, “You’re not coming?”

“I have to do something. Before i go-” You hug Carl close, which gave you the chance to grab at Carl's gun.

You weren’t sure you’d need it, but something instinctive told you to take it,

Getting home, your quick to find the paper from the morning, you call the new owners, as you get ready to print a new contract that you’ve seen your parents make time and time again.

“Hello, thank you for your latest purchase without us. I was just calling to see if we could finish some final things today.” As they agree, you continue to say, “Great. Where can we meet?...A cafe? Would you mind texting the address to this number? Okay. I’ll see you there.”

Having all you paperwork, you rush to your room clearing out your savings and grabbing your checkbook. Then, you head over towards the city.

The couple look at you surprised, and they say,

“I’m sorry I thought we were supposed to be-”

“Meeting my parents?”

“I’m sorry for all the confusion.” You present an envelope to the table. “You recently bought that house; Now, my friend is going to be homeless. I know this isn’t your problem. However, I can still make this even better. I’ve got about 300,000 its way more than the cost you paid for the house and with that you could probably buy a new house. I have this contract of you releasing the house and your money from the auction will be given back. You just have to sign.”

“I don't know about this.”

You put on your best Carl impression before showing the gun in your pants and say, “Your going to fucking sign before I pop you right here.” You were shaking on the inside at all of it. However, they were quick to sign and rush out of there with the money. You let out air before grabbing the papers and trying to rush back to Carl. This had to have worked.

The police stand in front of Fiona, Carl, and Debbie. You take your keys out the car and slam the door shut and shout, “Stop right there!”

They all look at you funny.

You pull up the papers and look to Fiona before saying, “Fiona, I need you to sign this!”

“What is it?”

“Trust me.”

Fiona does so, and you unconsciously shove the papers at the cop. The cop asks, “What's this?”

You respond, “An agreement from the buyers. They've changed their minds about the house.”

“That means nothing.”

“It does when they sign the house off to Fiona, who has the means to pay any debts on the house and buy it back in full with this check.” You hand it off to the guy. “Getting the bank off our backs.”

They all cheer before Fiona comments, “Please leave my property. I’ve got cleaning to do.”

With grim faces, the police leave

Fiona hugs and kisses you in the cheek. Carl pulls you in right after and asks, “How is this even possible?”

“A combo of my parents and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You.”

You pull out his gun and hand it back to him.

“Shit.” He said before laughing and hugging you again. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Forget your parents…You're one of us…Thank you.”

Full Masterlist

Shameless Masterlist

Hope your day got better

[hcneymooners]

⋆ heart on a sleeve.

(lowkey toxic!)bsf!vi x bsf!reader. men & minors dni.

pt. i ( you are here. ) / pt. ii.

synopsis: vi is handling her breakup badly, but you refuse to give up on her. it's part of the deal when you're irrevocably in love with your best friend.

cw: vi exhibits toxic behavior but is more complex than toxic, this part is sfw but part ii is going to be explicit, pit fighter!vi, implied alcoholism, emotional hurt/comfort, second chances, implied friend breakups, not actually unrequited love, vi is trying her best and so are you, blk-coded reader but all are welcome to read.

notes: inspired by the beautiful @avonnimimi. adore her. also the raccoon thing actually happened to me, lol. love you.

you've always loved winter in the city. winter is your season. the world grows unnaturally quiet underneath the suffocation of snowfall; you can finally hear yourself think. the heat is cranked up as high as it can go without bothering you and you sit on the floor, hips groaning as you stretch them out.

tonight, the snow falls soft and quiet, less fervent than the day before, catching in the glow of streetlights. you’re in a navy blue sleep set, your silk shorts clinging to your cocoa-buttered thighs. the fabric is covered with detailed illustrations of eopards, their mouths open and demanding. despite it not being your preference, you have your best friend on the phone as you contort yourself into different shapes. she keeps shooting you looks as your joints pop, your bones waking up from their slumber.

“baby, i don’t think you’re supposed to be sounding like this at twenty-one.”

“don’t worry about it, lia. that’s why we stretch.”

dalia rolls her eyes from where she looms across the screen, her skin dark and gleaming post-shower. 

eventually, you settle, loose and limber, and begin scrolling through old photos on your phone. your gold rings catch the light as you swipe past memories – vi teaching you to throw a proper punch, both of you sprawled on the quad during finals week, the night she got that bartending job. you’d celebrated with cheap champagne and a close call (read: climbed right into her lap and almost kissed her.)

your shared apartment feels hollow tonight. vi's combat boots aren’t kicked off by the door, her jacket isn’t thrown over the kitchen chair. her location is turned off and it eats at your stomach, but you try to self-soothe.

traces of her are everywhere – the worn boxing gloves hanging by the entry, the pile of mechanics textbooks on the coffee table, the polaroids magnetted to the fridge. your favorite was from last summer: vi half-asleep on the couch, head in your lap, while you read your sociology textbook. 

dalia took that one, said something about capturing moments that matter.

you remember the night vi moved in, both of you drunk on cheap wine and possibility, sprawled on the empty living room floor.

"mama," she'd said, grinning up at the ceiling, "we're gonna make this place ours." and you did – vi's fight posters next to your framed family photos, her protein shakes beside your san pellegrino, your shared vinyl collection taking over the windowsill.

it was your most desired dream: to have a beautiful life. with her, if you could have everything you truly wanted.

your mom's daily check-in text slides gently over your screen: how's my baby doing? vi still being stubborn?

before you can reply, your phone buzzes with another call.

( three months ago )

vi's sitting on your bathroom floor, knuckles bloody from another underground fight. she's been taking more of those since caitlyn left, each one more reckless than the last. you don't say anything, just kneel beside her with the first aid kit you've kept stocked since freshman year.

"you don't have to keep doing this," she mumbles as you clean her wounds.

"i know." you focus on wrapping her hand, trying not to let your fingers shake. "i want to."

she watches you work, something unreadable on her face. "why?"

you don't answer at first. just keep wrapping, gentle as you can. some questions are too dangerous to answer honestly. still, you try.

“you’re never going to stop doing this to yourself,” you say finally. “this ache, this punishment—it’s going to live inside you for a while.”

you can feel her looking at you, blue eyes following the bend of your neck as you slick the splits of her skin with paste. her gaze is heavy. you refuse to look up.

“when i was younger, i found a racoon in my backyard. it was so sick, but i was so little and tried to save it. i called animal control, because i didn’t understand how they “handled” situations.” you flip her hand over, thumb grazing her palm. “i asked them to come pick it up, to rehabilitate it. he told me to look away, but i still held out hope. he shot it right in front of me. i cried, i think. still think about it.”

you’re still holding her hand, and she takes over the grip. she exerts pressure and tilts your chin up, bringing you back to her. your eyes are wide and luminous, two planets.

“when i see you, it’s like that,” you tell her. “except i know better now. i take care of it, of you, myself. it makes me feel like there’s a better chance at survival.”

you shuffle onto your knees, body tensing as you push yourself up. vi catches you by the ankle, tugs until you stumble against her bandaged chest. she presses a weak kiss to your calf. 

“thank you.”

“mmhmm,” is all you answer, thumbing at her brow before leaving. 

(one month ago)

the party's too loud, too crowded. bass thrums through the floor like a second heartbeat. you're watching vi across the room, watching her drink too much, watching her laugh too sharp when someone mentions caitlyn's name.

when she starts another fight – with who? does it even matter anymore? – and ends it with kissing someone else, something in you breaks. you slip away to the bathroom, sink to the floor in your party dress, press your hands against cool tile. you hate crying. hates how it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. but the tears come anyway.

the door opens. dalia's there, sinking down beside you. she doesn't say anything, just pulls you close, lets you hide your face in her shoulder.

"baby girl," she whispers, but you cut her off.

“lia, later. please,” you rasp.

the bass keeps thumping outside. you can’t hear your heart, but you can feel it. you’re always fucking feeling it. you keep crying.

( now )

for years to come, you will always remember this moment. how you paused before hanging up on dalia and picking up for vi.

“violet?” your voice is low, tired.

across the line, somewhere cold and devoid of you, vi shivers. she loves when you say her full name, wants to eat you whole when you let it rasp across your tongue and teeth until it falls free.

“hey, angel. look, i swear m'fine to drive," she slurs before you can continue asking after her. your heart drops. “i just wanted to tell you ‘m on my way home.”

"violet, where are you?" you're already grabbing your keys, oversized park half-falling off of you.

"just... just leaving jinx's. cait was there with her new fucking—“ her voice cracks. "doesn't matter. i got this."

"stay put. i'm coming to get you."

“what? no—“ there’s a sound suspiciously like her dropping her keys. “fuck, ‘m dizzy.”

“violet,” you’re beginning to panic, your voice rising. “vi, listen to me. are you in the car?”

the door slams across the line. you have your answer.

“vi, please listen to me. i’m coming, okay? i’ll be right there. please don’t start the fucking car.” nothing. “violet! i know you can fucking hear me.”

it’s about five minutes of silence, before she speaks again. you’re borderline hyperventilating, hands shaking as you try to locate jinx’s number to get her to go outside and stop her sister.

"nah, you don't gotta—" 

the sound of screeching metal cuts her off. then it’s dead air. you're running to your car before the call ends.

ᥫ᭡.

the accident scene is a nightmare made real. you find her car wrapped around a lamppost, driver's side crumpled like paper. your heart nearly stops until you see her stumbling away from the wreck, that familiar shock of pink hair catching the streetlight. she's swaying dangerously on the icy sidewalk. your hands shake as you guide her into your passenger seat, trying not to think about how close—

she reeks of whiskey and wears that same leather jacket she's had since her fighting days. The one with the worn elbows and faded patches. the one you helped pick out years ago, before university, before caitlyn, before everything got so complicated.

"you should've minded your own business," vi mutters, breaking the tense silence. her words have edges, sharp ones meant to cut.

you grip the wheel tighter. "you could have died tonight."

"yeah? maybe that would've been better than—" she cuts herself off, but you both know what she means. better than feeling like this. better than watching caitlyn walk away.

"don't." your voice cracks. "don't you dare. what the actual fuck is wrong with you, violet? why do you say shit like that? you have to stop.”

vi turns to you, eyes blazing with that familiar fight-night fury. "or what? you'll lecture me again? tell me how i'm throwing my life away? save it. i don't need another person telling me how to live my life."

the car comes to a stop at a red light. your layered necklaces catch the glow, throwing golden shadows across the dashboard.

"you think this is about lectures?" the words come out quieter than you meant them to. "vi, i found you in a crashed car. do you have any idea what that felt like?"

"oh, here we go. make it all about you, why don't—"

"yes! for once, let me make it about how i feel!" your voice rises, surprising both of you. you never yell. never let the mask slip. but tonight is different. tonight you almost lost her. "because i love you too much to watch you destroy yourself!"

“you don’t even fucking know me, [name].”

you can feel the heat rising. your throat is growing tight, and you know how this will end. 

“we’re best friends, vi.”

her eyes flicker over the side of your face, and you’re just such an easy target and her mouth is opening and—

“i’m only yours.”

the light turns green. neither of you moves. no one’s behind you, both on the road and in real life.

“you,” you whisper, “are so fucking mean to me sometimes.”

embarrassment rushes through you. your face feels hot, and the ball in your throat is so large you’re struggling to breathe. you’re going to cry. maybe she can tell, because she lurches upward and jerks toward you. you jerk back, staring a hole through your windshield.

“[name]—“

you run the red light.

ᥫ᭡.

a week later, dalia corners vi outside the campus coffee shop. you're not there to see it, but the story spreads fast. the city feeds on scandal and t thrives on the misguided.

"you know what?" dalia gets right in vi's face, fury radiating off her small frame. she looks like a wind-up doll, braids freshly done and her hands balled into fists. “i’m sick of watching you treat her like this. she's been there for every fight, every breakdown, every time you needed someone. and what does she get? you taking her for granted, acting like she's disposable."

vi's jaw tightens. "you don't know what you're talking about."

dalia is yelling now, drawing attention. vi’s pretty sure jinx is observing, bright blue teetering in her peripheral vision. her sister had ripped her a new one after receiving your belated messages.

"don't i? because while you're out here playing self-destruct, she's at home crying over you. she'll never say anything because that's just who she is – she loves too damn much and asks for too damn little. she ain’t one of those weak-ass little bitches you keep messing with, but she was never good at establishing boundaries with you. i don’t know what the fuck she's on, but i'm off it. i'll say it."

something in vi's expression shifts, breaks open.

"she... she cries over me?"

"god, you're dense," dalia spits. "she's been in love with you since sophomore year."

vi stumbles into your empty apartment at 1 am—early for her—, still reeling from dalia's words.

“hey, angel?” she calls out, more habit than hope. only ghosts answer.

she finds your room too neat, closet half-empty. your parka's gone. your heavy jewelry box has left a perfect dust-free silhouette on the top of your vanity. she rummages through your desk and finds your monogrammed passport holder gone. she sinks onto your bed, head in her hands.

her phone's in her hand before she realizes, your number dialing. voicemail. again.

“[name], i... i fucked up. i know i fucked up. i’m sorry. please... please pick up. please." her voice breaks. “please, mama.”

seventeen calls. seventeen voicemails. silence.

finally, desperate, she calls dalia.

“look,” she begs, voice raw. "i need to fix this."

dalia's quiet for a long moment. "you're lucky i love that girl so much," she says finally. “she’s going to see her parents. her flight leaves at 4. terminal c. don't fuck this up again."

ᥫ᭡.

vi misses the flight.

ᥫ᭡.

your parents' house hasn't changed. same bright warm kitchen, same family photos lining the walls, same smell of your mom's cooking. it’s been two weeks post-fight. you’re recentering, need space to breathe, to remember who you are without vi's gravity pulling at you.

your dad keeps giving you those knowing looks over breakfast. you’re his daughter emotionally, your mom’s physically. they always joke that your mama said copy-paste, that you stole her entire face.

"sometimes," your dad says one night, his voice carefully light, "loving someone means letting them figure things out on their own."

you re-adjust one of your rings, a nervous habit. it was a gift from vi—two angel wings set on a thin diamond-speckled bar spread across two of your fingers. she’d fought for it. you were pissed. you never took it off, even though you rarely mixed metals.

“mmm. yeah, i know, daddy."

your dad finds you again in the kitchen at midnight, making tea you won't drink. you look so small in your grief, eyes blinking owlishly at the draft of your introduction to ethics paper. you’re wearing your glasses, the frames thick, and he smiles at the sight. you only used them when your eyes became too dry for contacts. 

"you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head, then nod, then laugh wetly. your screen blurs into a smear of white and blue. 

“i don't know how to stop loving her, daddy." your head drops. “why is this shit always happening to me?”

he pulls you close, kisses your forehead like when you were small. he chooses to let the language slide this one time.

"maybe you're not supposed to, baby. maybe it's not about stopping."

“i know,” you sniff, wiping your face. “i just wish i could pause it when things get bad, take a minute.”

“and that’s fair, baby. nothing wrong with that.”

“love is hard, baby girl.” your head whips up, finds your mother sitting in front of your computer. “you don’t have to pretend otherwise. no one here is going to shame you.”

your heart quakes with so much love that you start blubbering again. your parents only smile, pressing twin kisses to your oil-wet scalp. 

“i’ll finish the draft for you, honey. get some sleep,” your mom says and you try to protest, only to get served with her “keep talking” look.

“‘kay,” you tell her. “thank you.”“mmhmm,” she tugs you into another hug. “finish your tea, baby.”

ᥫ᭡.

at the airport, you're going through security when your phone buzzes again. this time it's dalia.

d. <3: girl, you're not gonna believe this.

you hear her before you see her. vi's voice cuts through the airport chaos: "[name!] wait!"

you turn, lower the volume on your playlist. she's there, pink hair wild, still wearing her leather jacket despite the cold. she's holding a ticket.

“i missed the first flight, so i was gonna go to your parents. i couldn’t get a plane out ’til yesterday but then,” she says, breathless. "dalia told me when you were leaving. i... i couldn't let you go without—" she runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. 

"i'm shit at this. but mama, please listen to me. i need you to know i'm sorry. not just for that night. for everything. for not seeing what was right in front of me."

you hold yourself very still, careful. hope is a dangerous thing, and she’s starting to rumble within you.

"violet…”

her eyes light up at the sound of her full name, and she rocks onto the balls of her feet. 

"i miss you," she says simply. "and not just as my best friend.”

your eyes widen, and vi steps closer. her face is soft and open. somehow, you know she’s aware of your biggest secret. you’re gonna whip dalia’s ass.

“ i think... i think maybe i've been missing you for a long time without knowing it."

the airport bustles around you, but all you can hear is your heart beating too fast. vi takes another step, careful, like you might spook. 

you look so beautiful to her, face bare and glazed with what she knows is a mixture of skincare and vaseline to combat the dry air of the plane. you’re being swallowed by your oversized sweatsuit, the hoodie absolutely massive and bubblegum pink. she focuses on your hands, finds the ring she gifted you. you flex your fingers, and her eyes fall on the small “vi” inked between your thumb and pointer. it’s stylized to look like roman numerals but it’s her name.

yours is tatted on her too, just behind her ear.

“look, vi. i—“ your top teeth worry at your bottom lip, plush and pink like a tulip.

"i know i don't deserve another chance," she says softly. "but if you're willing to give me one i swear to god, i’ll take what i can fucking get.”

you look at her – really look at her. she's a mess, clearly hasn't slept, probably bought the first ticket she could find which meant the airlines had robbed her blind. but her eyes are clear. present. seeing you maybe for the first time.

“i think you still have some things to deal with. like cait.”

“who?” she says, and you know she’s posturing, but it makes you laugh. vi grins, pleased with herself.

“don’t piss me off, violet,” you tell her and she closes the distance, threads her hands along your hips.

your body conforms to the comfort, to the familiarity. you close your eyes, lean your forehead against her chest. she’s so thick, so broad, that she shelters you. the world is so quiet here.

"slow," you say finally. "we’re taking this slow."

her smile breaks like sunrise. "slow," she agrees. "i can do slow."

above, your gate is called over the speaker. vi adjusts your necklace, takes your suitcase and bag. her fingers linger as you transfer them to her hands, sending a pulse down to your stomach. it’ll be hard to be careful. gentle. new.

“c’mon, mama,” she murmurs.

her hand is held out. you take a minute, maybe two, but you still hold it.

bonus:

d <3: so y’all kiss yet, or what?

you: you got one more time.

© hcneymooners.

[dearru]

twelve grapes | o.miya

pairing: ts!miya osamu x gn!reader | sfw | cw: slight manga spoilers, alcohol, atsumu sucks and kita is here too, a lot of yearning and unresolved feelings, no use of yn | genre: hurt/comfort sorta but also idk just read it and you’ll see | wc: 3.3k (3330) | mlist

synopsis -> in attempting to follow an age-old tradition, you begin to confront some repressed feelings you have for your best friend.

TWENTY MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and you’re buzzing with anticipation. Tonight was the annual New Year's party, and the air was alive with excitement. Laughter fills the room, and you navigate through the crowd, ignoring the feeling of sweaty partygoers pressing against your body. Normally, you’d hate pushing through a crowded group of people, but tonight, you’re on a mission. You need to find Kita– the reluctant host of this year’s party and your longtime friend. 

When you find him, you call out, bounding over to where he’s resigned to nursing a bottle of water on the couch, looking entirely overwhelmed by the festivities. You giggle at his current state as he lifts his head sluggishly, eyes half-lidded and fighting sleep. If he weren’t the host of this event, you’re sure he’d already be snuggled under his warm bedsheets, sleeping the Holiday away. 

He hums, sitting up to give you his full attention despite his exhaustion. 

“Do you have grapes?” you ask. 

“Grapes?” He tilts his head, “I have some in the kitchen.” And like the good host he is, he rises from the couch. It’s a half-hearted attempt but appreciated nonetheless. 

Shaking your head, you gesture for him to sit back down, “I can get them; it’s okay!” 

Nodding, he looks almost relieved as he points toward the kitchen. “Top shelf of the fridge.” He says, smiling appreciatively. 

Before you can go, you feel a hand grip your shoulder. Turning, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair and a mischievous grin staring back at you. 

Atsumu Miya– who is another one of your long-term friends, unfortunately. 

“Who’s goin’ to the kitchen?”  The setter slurs, cheeks flushed, “Get me another beer, yeah?” His eyes are glazed over, and the scent of what you presume to be the copious amounts of alcohol he’s consumed wafts off him. The odor is prominent and slightly bitter. You fight the urge to shake your head in knowing disappointment. 

“I think you’ve had enough.” Kita scolds, calm but firm. Atsumu puts a hand up in submission and mutters something under his breath, still holding onto you. 

Chuckling, you untangle yourself from his grasp, glancing toward the kitchen. “Couldn’t get you a beer even if I wanted,” You tease, “I’m gonna stay in the kitchen ‘til midnight.”  

Yawning loudly and plopping down on the sofa next to Kita, Atsumu peers at you curiously. “Midnight? ‘Samu gonna be there too?” He snickers, nudging his former teammate. Kita shoots him a warning glance and then shifts his gaze to you. It’s warm and empathetic. 

You stiffen. The sound of his name has your heart skipping a beat, and Atsumu’s question echoes loud in your ear like the pop of a champagne cork. Everyone’s been drinking tonight, so maybe it’s the liquor and crowd getting to you, but you suddenly feel aware of how your breath catches.

You and Osamu are friends– best friends, even– but recently, you’ve started to notice things about him that maybe best friends shouldn’t notice. Like the way his hair tousles in an annoyingly effortless way or how he rolls his sleeves up just enough for you to get a glimpse of his arms, toned and strong. You try your best to push the thoughts away because you two are friends, and it’s wrong to think of friends like that. 

Try as you might, it’s more difficult said than done. Especially when you two spend every free moment you have together. Even after spending long, laborious nights slaving away at Onigiri Miya, Osamu always stops by your apartment, doggy bag in hand. He tells you it’s just to make sure you’re eating, but you know the casual drop-ins are an excuse to have hour-long chats together in the dead of night. You never mind, but it makes you wonder if he thinks about you in the way you think about him. 

It’s wishful thinking, you tell yourself, He’s got better things to worry about than you. It’s best practice to not have false hope, and you’ve tried your best to not let all the inner turmoil affect the way you act.

When Atsumu mentions his brother, you feel a wave of discomfort that betrays how desperately unbothered you want to seem by him. You want to laugh it off, but the words don’t come out in the effortlessly cool way you imagined in your head. 

“Why would we be together at midnight?” You ask. The words are rushed, and you cringe at how the pitch of your voice raises. The weight of his accusatory gaze makes you feel like a dying animal being stalked by a vulture. He’s onto you, and you can’t do anything about it. 

Letting the silence hang in the air for a moment longer than what’s comfortable, Atsumu sighs, chuckling and leaning further into the cushions, “If yer not with ‘Samu, then what’re ya doin’ in the kitchen?” 

You breathe a sigh of relief at the change of topic. “I’m doing the twelve grapes tradition.” 

“Twelve grapes?” Kita asks.

You smile, confidence returning to you, “Yeah! I read about it online. You eat twelve grapes under a table, and it’s supposed to bring good luck for the New Year.” 

Snorting, Atsumu crosses his arms, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Biting your inner lip, your eyes narrow. You’re used to his blunt comments, but they still get under your skin sometimes. You try not to let it show. 

“Don’t be rude,” Kita sighs, then looks to you, voice softening, “Just don’t choke when you’re eating them, okay?” 

“I won’t.” You assure him while glaring at Atsumu, who’s still laughing under his breath. 

Making your way to the kitchen, you hear Atsumu call out, mockingly cheery, “Yer gonna look dumb bein’ all alone at Midnight!” 

You pause and then shake your head, continuing to the kitchen. What do you care if you’re alone? The one person you’d want to ring the New Year in with had probably left the party by now to get ready to open his restaurant in the morning, anyway. 

It’s not a big deal. 

TEN MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and you feel stupid. 

In spite of Atsumu’s taunts, you’ve slipped away into the kitchen to escape the boisterous crowd that gathered around the living room. They’re all anxiously awaiting for 12:00 AM to strike together, and you’re by yourself. Bass from the loud music seeps through the thin walls and pulses through your head, amplifying your growing discomfort. You try to focus on how the quiet hum of the stove subtly masks the muffled sounds of laughter and the premature clinking of glasses from the other room. It would be nice, you think, to take a break from the party— if it weren’t for how alone you felt. 

This is silly.

Opening the fridge, you sigh as you feel the cool air hit your face, the chill sobering and harsh. You’re grateful for the obsessively organized way Kita stores his groceries; it makes it easy to find the grapes. They’re exactly where he said they’d be, tucked away on the top shelf. Grabbing the container, you set it down on the counter, gently plucking the fruit from the stem. As you place twelve into a bowl, the simple task is marred by a feeling of unbelievable doubt. You try to fight off the creeping sensation of dread overcoming you. 

Is this a dumb idea? 

You pause, thoughts wandering. You think about how this tradition is said to bring luck and success in all areas of life, it was exciting at first, but now it feels like an absurd notion. Why did you want to do this in the first place? 

As you continue to prepare the grapes, you try to settle the unease you feel. This tradition is supposed to be fun, but now you feel like it represents something more. Something bigger. 

Silently, you hope Atsumu will come and drag you away from this nonsense. It was always easier to ignore the thoughts when you were around others. 

But more than that, you wish for something else– Osamu. Looking down at the dish, you wish he would come and tell you how he feels. Reassure you there’s some merit in your thought. 

If that happened, you wouldn’t need the grapes anymore. It would prove that you had more than enough luck on your side. 

You really wish he was here. 

His lack of presence only emphasizes the emptiness of the room, and your heart lurches with the desire for him to be here with you. It’s pointless; though, you’re sure he’s gone home by now, and you’re still here with nothing but a bowl of fruit and unanswered questions.  

Running the sink, you wash the fruit, hoping it’ll help you calm down. But you realize that pushing down these thoughts is a futile task. You can’t keep pretending like you don’t feel this magnetic pull to him– you can’t keep acting like you don’t need him. 

You love him too much to ignore it anymore. 

FIVE MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and you wonder if you should forget your idea and return to celebrate with the others. 

You haven’t gotten under the table yet. Instead, you’re standing idly by the counter, staring at the grapes with more intensity than they’re worth. With the magnitude of your previous realization sitting heavy on your chest, you wonder if this tradition holds the key to anything. 

Could it help you learn to navigate your now undeniable feelings? 

The thought of grapes being the answer to all your problems is such a silly idea that you giggle to yourself. It takes some of the weight off your mind. 

And then, with comedic timing, you hear Osamu call your name. 

Snapping your head to the doorframe, you see his figure walking towards you, the door swinging closed in his wake. The clock in the room ticks steadily, but time seems to move slowly. Though a typically reserved person, his presence feels large and looms over you, causing your heart to pound with want. 

Clearing your throat, you pick the bowl up, holding it tight to your chest like a shield. 

“I thought you went home,” You say, face warm. 

It’s almost time now, but Osamu’s sudden appearance has thrown a wrench in your plans. 

“Nah,” He waves his hand dismissively, “Just crashed on Kita’s bed for a bit. Shop was busy. Needed to recharge.” 

You hum mindlessly, finding it hard to focus. Adorning a fitted shirt and a simple pair of jeans, it makes you almost mad at how he doesn’t have to try, and he still looks good. 

You’re so screwed. 

“How’d you know I was here?”  You ask, tapping your fingers against the dish. The cool porcelain touches your fingertips and sends a rush down your spine. 

“‘Tsumu told me.” He explains, “ ‘S ‘cause he heard I was lookin’ for you.” 

Your heart stutters. “You were looking for me?” 

“‘Course I was,” He replies, amused. He says it like you’re silly for thinking otherwise. Lips turning into a slight grin, he shrugs, “‘S almost Midnight.” 

He steps closer, not seeming bothered at all. His gaze locks on yours, and you feel like it’s on purpose. When he tries to reach for a grape, you quickly jerk the dish out of reach. Osamu looks at you curiously. 

“What’re you doin’ here, anyways?” He asks, a playful glint in his eyes. There’s something else, too– but you can’t place it yet. 

You hold up the bowl, feeling a bit ridiculous having to explain yourself, “I’m— uh, gonna eat twelve of these under a table.” 

His gaze has your mind reeling. Tilting his head, he peers at you, “Why wouldn’t ya just eat ‘em right now? Grapes ‘re good.” 

You giggle at his simple nature. Of course he’d want to eat the snack as soon as possible. Trying to play it cool, you swat his hand away. His hand brushes against yours and makes you shiver. 

Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes, “It’s ‘cause people say if you eat them under the table at midnight, you’ll gain success in all areas of life.” You pause before quickly adding, “Even romance.” 

You regret it as soon as you say it, but you can’t do anything about it now. 

He raises his eyebrows, “Ya want a boyfriend?” 

“It would be nice, I guess,” You stammer, embarrassed but relieved to say something truthful about your feelings for once.

“I didn’t know that,” He hums thoughtfully.

An agonizing silence hangs in the air. The only noise comes from the increasingly rowdy crowd in the other room. 

Osamu breaks the still before you can. 

“So why aren’t ya under a table yet?” He asks, looking down at his watch, “‘S almost time.” 

Smiling sheepishly, you look down at the floor, “Well, I was gonna do it, but now I’m insecure ‘cause Atsumu said I’d look dumb being all alone.” 

He scoffs, “Don’t listen to ‘Tsumu– he’s the dumb one.” 

You chuckle, “I guess, yeah, but still, I’d feel better if I could’ve found someone to do it with me. Kinda like a solidarity thing, y’know?”

“Yeah,” He agrees, then grabs the bowl without warning. You lunge to grab it back, but he holds it just out of reach when you get close. Looking around the room, he seems like he’s considering his options. You whine. 

“Samu! I need those!” 

“Ya wanna do it right there?” He asks, ignoring your plea and pointing at a cozy table hidden in the nook of Kita’s kitchen. His voice is low and laced with a teasing energy. 

Taken aback, you stop your efforts. You stare at him. 

Was he going to do the tradition with you?  

He starts to walk away, and you stand there, confused. He looks over his shoulder, still holding the bowl out of your reach, “Well,” He says, “Ya comin’?”

“I…” You swallow, heart filling with something hopeful, “You’re serious?”  

“Dead.” He quips. 

And because you could never say no to him– and you also really did want to do the tradition— you haphazardly scramble to grab more grapes from the counter since Osamu had stolen yours. 

Kita would just have to forgive you for eating all his food. 

ONE MINUTE UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and your body warms from being in such close proximity to Osamu. If it were anyone else, you’d laugh at how the two of you barely fit under the small table, your knees awkwardly bumping and arms pressed together. But because it’s him, the closeness hurts. Your hands are so close that you ache to reach out and touch him. Every small movement sends a jolt of electricity through you. The faint scent of his cologne– sandalwood, you think– clings to his person and makes your pulse quicken.

Everything feels so trivial with him next to you. This moment shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does, but you can’t help it. 

Looking at the grapes, you wonder why he’s doing this. Did he feel bad for you? Is that why he wasn’t somewhere else, celebrating with his brother and other friends?

It’s all too much. At this rate, you’ll die before the clock strikes twelve. 

You have to say something. 

“I didn’t know you believed in stuff like this.” You say, careful to keep your voice steady. 

He turns to you, and you can feel his breath on your face. The sudden nearness steals your own breath away. 

He’s so close. 

“I like eating grapes.” He shrugs, his voice as calm as you wish you were. Pausing, he parts his lips to speak, eyes glimmering with something unspoken, “And maybe I need a little luck too.” 

You’re too eager to know what he’s talking about to hide your embarrassingly shrill speech, “Luck? With what?” 

His gaze holds yours, and for a second, you feel like he’s about to say something important– but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he gives you a sly smile. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see if it works,” He says. It’s teasing, but there’s something else in his eyes. It makes your heart lurch. 

His words settle over you like the weight of the sky, crushing you with their ambiguity. It’s cruel, how vaguely he speaks. Doesn’t he know what he’s doing to you? How he makes you feel? All you can do is gape at him, the air filling with so much tension that you’re sure he can feel it too. 

The countdown starts in the other room and delays your inevitable spiral. Nodding at him, you look at the grapes in front of you, preparing yourself for the task you originally set out to do.

You’re so focused that you miss how Osamu’s still looking at you. 

ONE MINUTE PAST MIDNIGHT, and you’ve both finished your grapes. The faint echoes of drunken cheering filter in from the other room– a signal that it’s time to leave the kitchen and rejoin the celebration. Despite this, neither you or Osamu have moved from your places under the table. You’re still so close. The sound of your shaky breaths dance together, and the heat of his touch burns your skin. 

He hasn’t stopped looking at you. 

You try not to meet his gaze. It’s charged and entirely too intense for you to even begin to wrap your head around what it all means. Maybe you’re looking too deeply into things again. But you don’t think you are. 

Eyes darting around the room, you settle on looking at the clock. Its ticking has sped back up to a normal pace, and you focus on the calming rhythm. 

It’s useless, though. You can’t ignore him. Not for long. 

“What?” You breathe out, still not looking at him directly. 

“Nothin’,” He echoes, voice equally quiet. 

You swallow, finally allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of having his complete attention. Examining his face, your eyes widen. He’s really staring. You squirm from the intensity of the situation, accidentally bumping his side. You squeak out a “Sorry!” And he laughs. It’s full of warmth and affection, and it makes the hairs on your arm stand. 

Your breath hitches. Has he always acted like this with you? 

He says your name and smiles softly. Gaze pining you in place, dark eyes filled with intent, “Ya think we’ll both get what we want this year?” 

Your stomach flips.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. The closeness paired with the intensity of his stare is almost unbearable. You’re sure he can see your heart beating out of your chest if he hadn’t picked up on it already.

He shrugs, “Dunno.” Then he gets up from under the table, brushing dust off his knees. The ghost of his touch lingers on your skin, and you have half the mind to tell him to come back. Under the table, it felt like you two were in your own world, but now you’re worlds apart. 

His hand falls in front of your face to help you up, and you accept it just to feel him touch you again. 

It’s silent for a moment as you two stand next to each other. You’re still close, even though you don’t have to be. 

“Hey,” Osamu says softly, voice cutting through the tension, “Happy New Year.” 

You blink at him, chest tight, “Yeah, Happy New Year.” 

He hesitates, just for a moment, mouth opening like he wants to say something more, “I…” He starts but then shakes his head, “I think a lot’s gonna change this year.” 

You ache from everything left unspoken and what could be. An indescribable feeling settles over you, and your mind races with possibility. This year is a fresh slate– a chance for something new.

With luck on your side, maybe that something new could be with Osamu.

—a/n HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! This was supposed to be a 500 word drabble for a multi-character post, but I got a bit carried away…whoops! I hope you guys enjoyed regardless. I know longer fics don’t typically do well on tumblr, so If you read everything, I’m very grateful! I hope the Holiday season treated everyone who celebrate well :3.  

–a/n #2: according to mexican tradition, you’re supposed to match your underwear to what aligns with your desire for the new year. you and osamu both wore red aka the color of love. do with that what u will. (@cherrysurf gave me this idea!) 

[pierregazly]

you were my best friend first ꨄ  charles leclerc

charles leclerc x reader

warnings: fluff, charles is the sappiest drunk, monaco 2024, mentions of drinking/being drunk [1k words]

request: 🫶🏻 Charles Leclerc + prompt 8!! Thank youuuu 🤍 ["you were my bestfriend, before you were anything else, love."]

The Monaco sun shined down on him, his head was tilted back, embracing the warmth that radiated against his skin. Soft sighs of triumph leaving his lips as beads of sweat began to gather against his forehead.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes followed his every move. He was exquisite in every way, and it was like he just knew it. The love that emitted from your heart for the Monegasque man was never-ending, all-consuming, and exactly the type of love you had always dreamt of, had always daydreamed about when you thought of the person that would once be that person for you.

Your eyes still shined bright with unshed tears, the sounds of the Monegasque anthem being sung from around you prompting one small bead of liquid to drip down your face. The pride racing through your body was indescribable. You could practically feel Charles’ happiness, his sheer relief, coursing through your own body.

Arthur’s arm was tossed over your shoulder, pulling your body against his side as he screeched the lyrics of the anthem into the open air, his own cheeks riddled with tears of pride for his big brother. Really, everyone around you had red cheeks, and a copious amount of shed tears.

This was the moment.

The moment everyone in Monaco had been yearning for since he qualified on pole, since they realized that this may finally be his chance. His family, his friends, his country-folk, his Monarchy, it was the moment every single person had been rooting for him for, for years.

It felt like forever while you waited for him to make his way down from the podium, being stopped by every person he passed kept him occupied, a toothy-smile so prominent on his features as his arms wrapped around almost every person who put their arm out to stop him in his path.

Once your eyes finally made contact with his, he rushed over, throwing his arms around your body and pulling you tight against him. You couldn’t decipher the words he was yelling into your ear, but the tone, the happiness, it was so obvious. 

“You did it, you did it!” He eagerly nodded his head down at you, pressing his lips messily against yours, the smile as he did so prompting the corners of your lips to tug up alongside his.

Charles pulled back to look down at you, his glassy eyes conveying words you knew he couldn’t say right now.

“Thank you for being here, mon coeur. I’m so… just thank you,” he said.

You smiled up at him, your words caught in your throat as you tried to keep the looming tears at bay. 

“I’ll always be here, Cha,” you said, a soft smile gracing your face as you continued to look up at him, feeling like the two of you were stuck in your own little world.

It didn’t take long for the festivities to begin. People graced the streets, singing songs of celebration, the clubs began opening their doors, the champagne had already been popped.

The gala dinner passed by quickly, the starstruck feeling of being so close to the Prince and Princess of Monaco was diminished by the drinks that continuously felt like they were being magically refilled in your hand. Charles’ arm hadn’t left your lower back, his body having begun to mould itself to you the longer the night progressed. 

“Are you still okay to go to the club, mon coeur?”

Quirking an eyebrow up at him in confusion, you nodded your head with a slight laugh.

“Cha… tonight’s about you. I will go anywhere you want me to, my love. Just take my hand and drag me along,” you said.

A grin replaced the soft look on his face, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as he pulled your body tight against his again.

The music in the club was thunderous. There was no other way to describe the energy of the environment as anything other than triumphant. Everyone felt like this was a triumph for them, watching the person who had felt for years that Monaco could never love him back… to finally feel the love that he had always given so freely. 

Neither of you had realized how much you had drank until you were holding each other up, the Monaco flag held over your heads as someone; still unsure as to who, dragged the two of you along and out to an Uber. 

Charles giggled in your ear every time his feet flew out from underneath him, almost dragging the two of you down with every third step he took.

“Can’t believe you were really here to see me do it, baby,” he whispered in your ear, once the two of you were settled in the Uber and back on the road.

“M’good luck charm, mon coeur,” he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, prompting a shiver to shoot through your body.

“Oh Cha, wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You’re my best friend, my love,” you responded, a soft smile on your heated cheeks.

“You were my best friend, before you were anything else, mon coeur. Gonna talk about how I couldn’t have won Monaco without you during my wedding speech, mon coeur. Make everyone jealous, cause you’re so great and you’re all mine,” he rambled on, slurring his way through his multiple declarations of love for you.

Drunk or sober, the feelings that swam through your body had you nuzzling closer to the Monegasque as your apartment building came into view. You had loved him for years, had been the backbone of so many unfortunate weekend endings; had been there for every high and low in his Formula 1 career.

Every unhappy Sunday had led to this moment, Charles whispering declarations of love into your shoulder, as the banners and chants continued amongst the country. The raw, unfiltered love for the man beside you prompting drunken tears to fill your eyes.

He was Monaco’s hero, but he was your best friend first.

im so sorry it's taking me so long to get these out lol... i havent been in the biggest writing mood lately, but i finished a book tonight in two hours and decided i needed to finish this one. this one NEEDED to get written. love you all 💗

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Beginnings | Yandere Animal Town

You'll want to read Only Human Series | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The smell of a hearty meal brings a warmth greater than the heavy comforter you're curled up in–-a ray of light from the open curtains beaming on your face. Your body started to rise before you fully registered that someone had to be the cause of such a heavenly scent and you were pretty sure you’d taken back all the keys from your former roommate. Slipping into your slippers and wrapping a robe around yourself you made your way down the creaky steps of your late grandmother's home. Running your fingers over the aged wooden walls, tracing the frames of the art and pictures that were still hung. It brought back memories of her entering your life, your original apprehension, and the slow realization that you loved her just as much as your grandfather. Smiling at the frame you had hung just before the staircase. 

"Morning Poppop, Mam! I made it another year without burning the place down...please wish me well."

The words spilled out earnestly devoid of the filters preparing in your head. Seeing as you had revoked Eudora's key a week earlier after the incident with your bedroom your whole being was readying to scold whoever had found themselves in your home.

"Happy New Years, Hun! Decided to start the year with a good meal. Pull up a chair and take yer time; I will warn you though you'll be having company in a few. I tried to stop them but you know how these nosy neighbors of ours tend to be."

The motherly canine hounded on about each of their pleas; all of it all too familiar. letting her voice fade into the background you tried to remind yourself that this was reality. The space connecting the kitchen room was spotless. Wooden floors glisten and windows let in clear rays of light without a speck of dirt to darken it. Your couch known for its crotchety, dusty presence was abnormally bright for its beige color, and when you pressed a finger into the cushion it plumped up as you pulled away. As if its stuffing wasn't devoured by mites. The carpet and curtains shared the same treatment, smelling of lemon cleaning products. At the center of your transformed living room were the other two canines wagging their tails happily.

"So do you like it (Y/n)?"

The small voice of Titan woke you up. Memories of when you first met the pup all teary-eyed and worried for his mother. It was a stark reminder as to why the years to come would likely never be quiet again.

" How did you guys get in? You didn't break my other door did you?" 

The child giggled before rocketing himself into your thigh. Despite this being a regular occurrence you still doubled over to nurse the bruised spot; leaving your neck perfectly exposed to tiny, grabby arms. The little hybrid hung onto you waiting for the rest of your body to accept his impromptu hug. 

"Didn't have to this time with that new mini-door I finished installing for ya!" 

Tank cheered from the floor behind the couch, popping up to reveal his typical attire of worn and tattered overalls hanging off his bulging pecks. Its single good strap hanging on for dear life over his tanned chest which was puffed up with pride as he watched you examine only his his and his brother's work.

" Thanks you guys...oh uh Happy New Year."

The family returned the saying before ushering you to your seat to eat. All of them seemed more than certain you wouldn't be alone much longer. With one sip of orange juice and three bites into your toast, you no longer were. Mama Tiffany had the decency not to groan exasperated at the knocking on the door. While you knew dog hybrids had more intense senses than humans and likely told them who exactly was at the door, you had the impression it didn't matter who it was. Just that they were interrupting a quiet New Year's Day with you.

"Darling I've brought the champagne. Since we missed each other New Years Eve i say we drink it now and finish the bottle before lunch!"

It was Eudora the cow-woman you helped get back on her feet (hooves?) rocking her usual cow-print designer brand jumpsuit with champagne wrapped in her hand and two caps of wine bottles sticking out of her matching bag.

"AHEM."

In an instant Tank and Tiffany were behind you. Arms crossed and sporting a sneer, one hidden well and one not, Eudora was forced to realize she wasn't your only visitor. 

"Fine. I'll share but I'm not going to like it."

Tiffany hummed," Sorry dear but while a child is about we all can't be...under the influence."

Shrugging you had to agree. Titan for as independent and rambunctious of a child he was still one and it was in bad taste to be indulging with him so close by.

"Sorry, Dor maybe another time."

The cow-woman whined latching onto you to fake-cry into your chest. Being sure to nuzzle indulgently.

"Every time I come over you’re surrounded by that brat! How ever will we get to be alone?!"

Her dramatic plea made Tank roll his eyes, slipping around her to grab the neck of a wine bottle from her purse. Immediately jumping away she chased after the scampering dog hybrid as best as she could in her speckled pumps. Tank and Titan were snickering as they weaved around passing the bottle between the two as she struggled, slipping onto the newly shined wooden floor.

"Give that back you have no idea, how important that is!"

Above her head, Tank dangled the bottle mockingly as he chuckled.

"Oh, I don't?"

"Noo! You don't! A farmer dog would never understand the kind of luxuries I earned to get--"

"You mean you earned by selling this milk" Titan had mysteriously slid the bag off her arm rummaging through it to pull out a jar of milk with a label on top which he so dutifully began to read,"(Y/n)'s spe-speshul milk?"

Eudora blushed, gasping in horror abandoning the laughing Tank to snatch the jar from Titan's hand. Cradling it to her chest she glared at the dog boy hoping he'd shiver and tuck that tail of his. Alas he didn't. He was smiling devilishly at the cow-woman, who was too distracted by him to stop Mama Tiffany from snatching the jar from her manicured hands.

"Hm good readin' Titan," her boy proudly wags his tail. Eudora dives for the jar but misses on account of the mother canine easily dodging her and heading straight for the kitchen her victorious smile seen by only Eudora , "Anyway if you made this for (Y/n) I might as well use it to make some more french toast. What d'ya say Hon?"

"Wait—"

"Sounds good to me!"

"H-hold on!"

"Great I'll get started on 'em right away," she popped the lid open giving it a good sniff before recoiling something fierce. Tank shivered and fought the urge to gag as he picked up the scent. Titan retched and ran into your side doing his best to shove his wet little nose as deep as he could into your skin. Eudora was appalled watching Tiffany dump her creation down the sink, turning to her with a sorrowful hostile look she sighed.

"Ah that's too bad seems like this batch is spoilt. Betta check the rest of the batch if you plan to take that to market."

Eudora looked furious as though Tiffany had curdled it herself. On a warpath, she stomps over with her painted finger stabbing it into Tiffany’s chest. From where you were standing you couldn’t tell exactly but you were certain her face was contorted with an unbecoming snarl. On instinct Tank and Titan stood alert ears pinned back and the faint grumble of a growl in their throats. 

It would be best to diffuse this. Separate them both before Tiffany lost that already twitching smile and Eudora did something with her pointed finger.  Thankfully someone else has knocked on the door. 

“Ack-! Tiffany could you maybe get the door for me I’m still in my PJs?”

“Sure thing, Hun be quick now.”

She shoved Eudora out the way, shouting that ‘she was comin’’ to whoever was at the door. You had your guesses but you figured whoever it was you better be properly dressed. In your absence the guests congregated with whispers spat through their teeth. Tank was the first to speak.

“You’re disgusting, cow.”

She stuck a specific finger in his direction, that had him hurriedly cover his younger brother’s eyes. Much to Titan’s unhappiness he could hear the air whipping with some other unspoken gestures of hatred. A shame he only saw the one. 

Tiffany opened the door with a smile on her face, her nails barely chipping at the latest coat of paint on the door. At the very least this nuisance wasn’t as…troublesome. 

“Stein. A real surprise. Didn’t know you were invited to celebrate the New Year.”

The librarian snake-hybrid shuffled his feet as his hands wobbled, making an irritating clacking of the platter he brought. Tiffany shut her eyes. Couldn’t wish to scratch his hands off if she couldn’t see him.  Stein’s tail was at attention curling and twisting behind him with the nerves he was still battling. He had originally felt encouraged not only by his newly found meditation breathing but because his…group of devvotees had assured him.

“Great Stein they’ll be so happy you’re there!” They said and they promised,” Excalibur will certainly compliment you for your new scales.”

Which was what he had predicted would happen especially since he’d practiced the scenario so many times in his head. But how could this be if the one he wanted needed+ wasn’t answering the door?! Still he wasn’t too discouraged…he could tell there was someone moving upstairs; the thermal signature reminiscent of his one and only human.

“W-w-well we’d been s-speaking about plans and they said I could–”

“I’m not accusing, (Y/n)’s a real sweetheart to those decent enough.”

“I–yes they are!”

Stein happily followed Tiffany inside, unsurprised at seeing her children and the peeved cow woman. It was already confirmed by many of his devotees that they were incredibly adamant about guarding you. Of course their theories ranged from their own obsessions to their secret plots to control the world with (Y/n) as their tool. It really was absurd but Stein would never complain for he had so many slashed tires to thank them for. Those ‘little gifts’ were incredibly nice when he had extra time to speak with them.

“Hey Stein! Happy you’re here! And look at that, do you think the new shed goes nicely?”

He nodded returning the hug. The seconds spent in (Y/n)’s arms felt all so incredibly right for Stein. The small amounts of contact through clothes regrettably brought a heat he wasn’t expecting, a heat felt a sliver of when he was with them.

“Uh, are you hibernating?”

The small voice calling out to him and the silence calling for an answer. He hurriedly straightened himself out but he still couldn’t get his arms or his tail to fully un-intertwine from the human. Still he made the effort of tilting his head hovering just above his human (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

Titan sighed like children did. In the whiney strangely annoyed way they did. He’d like to have a clutch with you.

“Y’know! Are’ya fallin’ asleep on ‘em or what?”

Stein laughed joylessly. He wasn’t the best at speaking but the pinched brow of the little dog hybrid said this wasn’t an innocent question but a tempered reaction from an annoyed predator. Stein would have no way of knowing but minutes before Titan had done the best work that he could to scent his favorite human. He knew his puppy dog face and his irresistible charisma could get him so far with all these adults coming over he had to make his mark….and yet when his human returned it was gone. 

“No little one I’m just–,” Stein let himself release the human only up to their hands keeping his fingers in between their own. The only reason he could get his tail to naturally release was because he wanted to see his human’s smiling face. Stein internally swooned but settled for a warm smile,” Happy to see my friend and kindred spirit.”

Your heart warmed at the thought—’ kindred spirit.’ Half a year ago it would have been bizarre to know anyone was willing to give this human in a hybrid-only town a chance. A feeling of gratitude washes over, making your cheeks warm and your heart full. 

Here. These were your people, your friends, and despite their odd violent, creepy, invasive behavior they cared about you and are likely the reason you wouldn’t be alone from now on. 

“Happy New Year you guys! Let’s make this one count!”

Titan howled in agreement, while Tank and Tiffany cheered! Eudora let her pout cease…for long enough to crack open the champagne. With a successful poignant pop, the wooden peg shot faster than you could catch. However, there was something fast, a black shadow that whipped across Stein’s face. But looking at the hybrid’s tail it was swaying casually below him; the only thing different was the slight curl at its end almost like it was holding something—-

“(Yyyy/nnnn)!!!! The cow is making me drink this horrible adult juice.”

“NO! I’M NOT! Tiffany come get your pup before I skewer him!”

“Ah (Y/n) I–I noticed you were looking at my t-tail and I just th-thought I’d offer if you’d like to touc–”

“Shut it, worm. (Y/n) I wanted to remind you about some of the new piping I fixed for you. Just a minor fix but I can personally show you now.”

“Oh, Hon he did such a good job~ You two should check it out! But not before you give Mama’s pies a taste!”

This Year would not be quiet, not with these guys around and with many more to come. 

____________________________________________________

Sneak Peak:

Knock Knock

“More people? So soon?”

The question wasn’t for anyone in particular but you were already walking away from the squabbling hybrids at your dining table. Looking discreetly over your shoulder to see Titan successfully nip at Stein’s tail and nearly avoid its constricting, you worked hard to hold your laughter. Depending on your latest guest they might not take lightly to your troublesome attendees. Swinging the door open you realized your assessment was spot on…at least for one of your new arrivals.

“Morning (Y/n).”

“Mr. Mayor! G-glad to see you!”

You really wish you’d looked at yourself in the mirror again.

“I didn’t realize so many others were invited to this function.”

“Sorry if I was misleading, you don’t have to join if you don’t–”

“No please (Y/n). I deal with the citizens of this town every day. This will be no different.”

“Then uh welcome,” you move to the side allowing the pristine presence to grace your newly renovated living room. Watching the slight twitch of his nose you wrestled with the same feelings of anxiety when you do see it. The tell was either one of annoyance or great excitement, you could only hope it was the latter,” we were all just about to play a board game if you’d like to join.”

The mayor gave a smile over his shoulder before he claimed a seat at the table. With no time to follow up, you focused on inviting the rest of your guests.

“Look at you rolling out the red carpet for that sucker!”

“Before the both of us, the working class really is overlooked.”

You shook your head at the duo before entering the hugs their arms were already opened for. Of course, this wasn’t as simple as giving a one-armed hug to both of them at the same time. They demanded a full hug to each of them by wrenching you in their direction when you thought the hug was over. How pleasant.

“Duke, Sher welcome we haven’t started yet so we can deal you in.”

Sher smiled, his little tail likely wiggling with pride as he let himself in.

“Good you really shouldn’t have even started the New Year without me but as long as you let me win I’ll forgive you.”

You opened your mouth to correct him now, if only to avoid a tantrum later but Duke stopped you with a hand to your shoulder. With a blush he had you come closer so he could whisper–it must have something to do with eggs.

“I did bring the years first eggs with me but I didn’t want to draw attention by bringing it to the door.”

“That’s fine Duke! I’ll make an excuse so I can grab them.”

“M-maybe you should include me so that I can help it’s a lot.”

“Wow, if it’s that much you’re giving to me you must’ve had a real good New Years Party.”

Duke’s blush deepened and his dark eyes trailed away from your face; it made you wonder what exactly was so embarrassing about his ‘party’ by himself. You tried to ask only for him to shake his head again, more of his face taking on the redness originally on his cheeks. Worried he might pass out you let him stumble into your home and nervously wave at the rest of the group. With a satisfied clap of your hands and a look down the road, you were pretty sure that was it for guests willing to spend their precious New Year with the only human in town. That is until the skirting sound of rubber burning on the roads carved through the rural area with an engine obnoxiously humming the loudest it could have arrived. Unlike your friends, it had stopped on the road instead of parking on the filled driveway. Outstepped the source of too much of your grief with being harassed for simply existing—Margarine. 

Stepping out of her iconic reddish-orange car was the fox hybrid responsible for your continuously outcasted status. So naturally you were far from pleased. Nonetheless, she stepped out smiling cruelly with her camera in hand. 

“Don’t cry ape-breath, I’m just getting the first shot of the human for the new year. The papers are going to love this.”

You were going to retort, thinking about setting a hose on her or something, until you felt the presence of one of your guests at your back. One of your freakishly tall guests with his intimidatingly large pointed smile. 

“Hi there, Margory. Do we have a problem here?”

It felt good to see her scramble, waving nervously as she returned to her car. Struggling for a little while to start it, when she finally got it she sped off. Thankfully saving her other nasty remarks for later, when your house wasn’t filled with six different people who would actively tear her in half.

“Thanks Sykes!”

“No problem, I only hope you remember this kind act of mine if I ever need some extra cards in this game of ours.”

Shaking your head you closed the door and let him pull you back to a bustling table filled with all the new friends you’d made. A group who truly didn’t mind that you were the only human.

Taglist: @midnight-nightmares@xrenka@candlesworlds-blog@00hellohello00@lem-hhn@kawaii-cakes@ceramic-raven@lilyalone@asleepysouluniverse @mel-vaz @sxftiebee @staarflowerr @horror-lover-69 @stanfordswifey @butratherbutrather @24-7aroundtheclockanxious @li-ravings @librarymouses @cooldonbutt @whoreforeverythingspice

First post of the year and it's hopefully holding everyone over for this series. Thanks everyone for the response to this one. I don't know what this year holds but I've got big ideas. Thanks to everyone here and Happy New Year! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[deadhands69]

*❆ Candy Cane ❆*

MDNI

Loser!Shigaraki x gn Reader

loser!Shigaraki gets a cute Christmas present after you tease him at the tree lighting not explicit, just strongly suggestive [quick read; wc: .9k]

“Didn’t wanna be here,” Tomura Shigaraki’s voice is muffled under the layers of scarf wrapping his face. 

“Oh come on,” you quip, grabbing his arm to pull him along with the group, “you'll live.”

If you were anyone else, he would have fought back. Anyone else and he wouldn't be so nervous, tensing under your touch. 

But you're you. 

So he follows. 

Admittedly, you were finding that you don't really want to be here either. Since when were tree lightings so boring? 

You find yourself standing in front of a dark tree with a long countdown. Listening to the same music you've heard for weeks now, watching the crowd shuffle around you. 

There's not even the thrill of being caught in public, when you're all so bundled up no one could possibly recognize you.  You've accepted that the evening peaked when you all bought hot chocolate and candy canes. Now, you just have to get through it.

“Who's idea was this anyways,” you ask from under the balaclava covering your face, “to show up this early?”

“If you don't show up early, you don't get a good spot,” Spinner asserts. “Plus, not everyone here has done something like this. It'll be a better experience for them.”

He's right, you think to yourself. Suck it up for them. Toga and Dabi both had such limited childhoods it’s hard to deny them these fun new experiences. There's probably still some magic left in Christmas, for Toga at least. You doubt Dabi cares too much. 

Shigaraki groans next to you. He still looks grouchy. Hands stuffed under his arms for warmth, closing himself off from the world. You know he's probably never been to anything like this either but you can't imagine it means anything to him. Holidays never do, yet even he showed up for everyone else. 

Maybe you should reward that and make this a little fun for yourself. He's cute, in a bumbling way, and teasing him had become your biggest hobby lately. 

Shuffling slightly to your right, you lean into his arm. He assumes it's a mistake. That you've accidentally bumped into him because what else could it be? He steps to the side, giving you some space that you immediately fill again. Eyes staring into his, half pouting.

There are at least eight layers of clothing between the two of you, but that doesn't matter to him. Your sleeve is touching his. 

You're close. 

On purpose.

The countdown hits a minute and the crowd begins to shift their attention forward. Well, everyone but Tomura. 

His eyes are locked on you. Breathing, forced to appear regular but you know he's an absolute mess in his head. 

Through the two thick layers of pants he's wearing, you can still see a bulge beginning to form. 

This is too good. 

Leaning in even closer, you whisper in a voice you know only he can hear. “Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

It's cheesy, absolutely. You know that. But it does the job, his face glowing more red than the lights that just filled the tree in front of you. 

Upon returning to the LOV headquarters, the group is determined to keep the party going. Bottles of champagne and sparkling cider are being popped. Jackets are strewn across the chairs and table while everyone peels off their outer layers. 

Tomura wanders down the hall, not pausing for a second. He'll come back to the celebration but you know that first he needs to tend to the raging boner you gave him just by standing too close. 

You follow him. Something about his demeanor struck a nerve in you. After months of this, you can't deny that watching someone so powerful become so pathetic doesn't do anything for you. Especially when you're the reason for it. 

No one notices as you run down the hallway around the corner, catching him just before he disappears to his room. As he turns to see who came after him, you shove him into the wall with a thud. 

“That's dangerous. Sneaking up on me. I could have touched you, you know.” 

“Tomura, you have three layers of gloves on. What were you going to do?” you laugh. 

Reaching towards his face, you begin to unwrap his scarf. 

“What are you doing?” he barely whispers, the tent in his pants becoming increasingly obvious. 

“Just because it's Christmas,” you answer, making him wait for what that means while you pull the last layer of scarf from his face. 

“...and just because you get so cute when you're flustered…” you trail off, bringing your face closer. One of your hands cups his jaw while the other runs through his unruly hair. You can feel his breath on your skin before your lips connect with his. 

His lips are sweet and sticky with peppermint. He's obviously never kissed anyone before, moving clumsily but still returning the kiss more than you expected him to. 

In something between a groan and a whimper, he bites your lip. Gasping for air while he clutches your shoulders for support. 

“I… sorry,” he mumbles before turning to lock himself in his room in embarrassment. 

Merry Christmas to you too. 

m.list

I love canon Shig but there's something so fun about someone so powerful absolutely losing their shit over you sooo I'm gonna keep writing these

[honeylullaby]

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on ‘ya.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by my sweet @harveysgirl101 🩷 / A budding pop star already caught in controversy, you reluctantly accept an offer to appear on Declan…

18+ FANFIC / Smut mention, angsty, intense chemistry. Reader character aged at 21. 🫶🏽

“Marvellous. Thank you.” You beam towards the young Corinium producer, sporting the most impressive mullet. Graciously accepting a bubbling champagne flute, you took a large gulp and stared at yourself in the dressing room mirror. Golden tanned skin, peroxide blonde hair preened into tremendous hoops and the most terrifyingly intimidating outfit — a black latex dress that hugged your voluptuous figure, ruby red lipstick and hooped earrings so large they resembled satellite dishes. “An hour ‘till showtime. Take some time to relax.” The young man informed you, to which you took another painful swig of champagne and nodded in response.

-

Confidently striding through Corinium’s orange-adorned hallways, the man that would be tearing you to shreds in approximately fifty-eight minutes turned a corner, completely indulged in his notes of preparation. “Oh Declan, hello.” You articulate, running a hand across the taut rubber of your dress. “My God, it’s not fancy dress, ya’ do know that?” The Irishman sniggered, his gaze not quite meeting yours. Unsurprising, you didn’t find his vitriolic criticism amusing. “I did hope, Mr O’Hara, that tonight’s interview would be one of personal gain, me to clear my name and boost my career and you to boost your… whatever you call this.” You quickly retorted, folding silken arms together across your chest. Declan raised a hazelnut eyebrow — more so in admiration at your counter-attack than vexation.

“My interviews aren’t to boost anyone’s careers, sweetheart. You can take one step out of line, look behind your shoulder and think no one’s watching. But I’ll have seen. And that’s when I strike.” He snapped, pointing a finger at you in an almost accusatory manner. You’re sure that any other individual being reprimanded by Declan in this way would’ve taken a rather harsh gulp of embarrassment, but you were too quick-witted to let it phase you. Instead, you take a hold of his finger, pushing it back towards him. “That’s the talk of a man that’s either not getting any at home, or has a very small penis.” Snickering heartily as you quip.

This one hit close to home — first remark, not second, he can assure you. It had been a few months now since Maud had packed her bags for London. Not that it made much difference. She was too busy pining after Rupert Campbell-Black to notice something as simple as the colour of his socks, let alone to have sex with him. “God, ‘ya are as fuckin’ insufferable as they say ‘ya are.” Declan tuts towards you, bringing his stack of documents to his face and flicking his eyes over a headline. “Excuse me, miss? Makeup are ready for you.” The mulleted producer softly mutters. Presenting him with a gentle nod, you begin to walk past Declan, but stop momentarily, whispering into his ear, “If you are sexually repressed, Mr O’Hara, you know where to find me. I wouldn’t mind giving you a ride.”

-

Nonchalantly peeling a strip of leather from the makeup artists decaying chair, you breathed in the cloying dust of the mattifying powder being swept across your nose. The makeup artist was a dowdy woman — sunflower-yellow skirt clashing with an emerald green jumper. Closing your eyes as she brushed a rather fetching violet eyeshadow across your lids, you heard the door open. A gentle voice exchanged with the artist, and the door promptly shut again. “Thought I’d better get her out of here before ‘ya lamped her. Are ‘ya actually allowed to be on ya’ own with makeup artists anymore?” The irritating Irishman spoke from behind you. Keeping your eyes closed and grunting out a deep exhale, you could only wish you’d have lit a cigarette before round two.

“Are you actually allowed to be on your own with me in here? Don’t think Lord Baddingham would be too pleased at you threatening his guests.” You mutter, opening your eyes only to very quickly light your much-desired cigarette, taking an elongated puff, and clamping your eyes shut again. “Closing ya’ eyes won’t make me go away. I won’t leave ya’ alone.” He speaks again, ignoring your pathetic jibe. “Like an irritating rash.” You retort, mumbling. Declan couldn’t help but smirk. Maud’s insults towards him were cruel — mean-spirited, intended to humiliate him. Yours, however, were different. You came back at him so quickly, and with such vigour, that he felt he had almost met his match.

Stretching his calloused hand toward the door handle, he spun on his heels and paused momentarily. “I don’t have a small cock, by the way.” Declan titters, prompting you to open your eyes and glare at him with huge, glimmering eyes. “Shame. I was hoping a man so intimidatingly sexy would have one downside, at least.” Raising your leg up as you speak, admiring your frighteningly tall stiletto and revealing to Declan your lack of underwear. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on ‘ya.” He huffed, focused entirely on the sight of your exposed cunt. “In the interview… or now?” You tease, standing from your chair and taking another puff of your cigarette. Without looking back, Declan reached behind him to lock the door.

[boundbyeclipse]

oral sex with jeremy headcanons

tags : switch!jeremy, switch!female!reader, drinking, oral sex (both receiving and giving), public!sex, slight cursing

• it was masquerade party in town tonight

• you and jeremy decided to go

• it was very crowded, loud music blasting through the building

• jeremy wore his black tuxedo while you matched him with your black dress

• you had your arm hooked around his forearm

• both of you found a bit more spacious spot and grabbed some champagne

• “what?” you ask because he cannot seem to stop staring

• he shows you a shy smile

• “you look absolutely beautiful”

• the two of you continue flirting back and forth

• champagne soon makes you both a little bit tipsy, but not drunk

• when jeremy asks you to dance his hands rest on your hips, holding them firmly

• it’s almost unbearable how good he looks

• so you just bite your lip while gazing into his dark brown eyes

• jeremy instantly senses that you’re up for something

• “do you want to leave?”

• “no. let’s find a room upstairs because i’m not wasting a ten minute ride home”

• you drag him to the second floor

• luck is on your side as you stumble upon an empty room with lockable doors

• but there’s no bed, just a table

• “stand over here” you say as you point to the table

• jeremy obliges and stands tall in front of you

• he throws away his mask and helps you with yours

• your lips collide in a hot, passionate kiss

• you begin to unzip his pants as you kiss down his neck

• a lewd moan slips past his lips

• you massage his growing length before taking it out of the boxers

• you stroke it while still kissing jeremy’s neck, being gentle and slow

• jeremy bucks his hips into your palm

• “impatient?” you smirk against his skin

• “p-please”

• you waste no other second as you get on your knees in front of him

• you stick your tongue out to kitten lick his leaking tip

• jeremy presses his lips to hide a moan as he throws his head back

• you start to suck on the tip, then taking more of him as your hand holds the base

• drool drips down your chin as you bob your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes

• “baby, it feels so good” he whispers, tugging on your hair as his hand finds its way on the back of your head

• you place your free hand on his lower abdomen

• the salty taste in your mouth and his heavenly moans leave your underwear sticking to your pulsating folds

• it tastes a little salty but you love it anyway

• you pick the pace up and it encourages jeremy to whimper even louder

• “f-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum”

• you hum around his length in satisfaction, impatient to make him reach his high

• it drives him crazy how pretty you look from above

• the knot in his stomach grows bigger and bigger within seconds

• you take all of his member into your mouth until your eyes water

• jeremy shakes as he reaches his climax, shooting his hot liquid down your throat

• you release it with a pop and get up, wiping your mouth

• he gives you a soft kiss as he spins you around and picks you up

• you’re then seated on the table and jeremy pulls your thighs apart

• he kneels before you and smirks as he leans in

• his lips peck your core through the panties

• “you’re so soaked” he murmurs pushing the fabric out of the way

• his hot breath tickles your skin before his tongue flicks against your clit

• “shit, jeremy” you gasp

• you grip on the sides of the table

• his large hands hold your thighs as he begins to suck on your cunt, tasting the sweetness

• you cannot help but buck your hips against him

• his nose gets covered in your juices

• he also licks a strip up your folds which leaves the hair on your body standing up

• jeremy tightens his grip on you as he grows a bit aggressive

• you cannot help but call out his name in ecstasy

• it’s getting hard to keep still and to breathe evenly

• when his tongue lays flat against your core you jump a little at the sensation

• he smiles while looking up at you through half lidded eyes

• jeremy picks up the pace as he ravishes all of you with desire pumping through his veins

• you bite your lip as you cum around his tongue, thighs shaking violently

• he catches his breath as he stands up and kisses you

• “we need a bloody napkin, like, now” he chuckles out of breath

• you both get yourselves fixed and get your masks off of the floor before leaving

• “i think we need more booze now” you flash a smile at him and make your way to the pre-filled glasses of champagne

[luckyroll3]

Save a Horse; Ride a Cowboy

Summary: On a month-long sabbatical from your stressful New York life, you escape to a remote Australian cattle station, only to meet Chan—a cocky, womanizing cowboy with no interest in commitment. The chemistry is instant, and soon you’re swept into a wild, no-strings-attached fling. He’s charming, carefree, and exactly the distraction you’re looking for. As your time on the ranch draws to a close, so does your steamy affair, leaving you refreshed… but will you be able to leave him behind? You’re not so sure.

Fuck Boy Bang Chan x Reader (f); Fling, Smut

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, smut, etc.

Word Count: 8,737

The first-class seat envelopes you like a cocoon as you sip champagne and watch the clouds drift by, miles from the suffocating bustle of New York City and the endless briefs, contracts, suits and other things you deal with as a corporate lawyer for a Fortune 500 company. You let out a long exhale, the stress already beginning to melt away. An eternity later, the Sydney airport materializes below, and you step into the blinding Australian sun, squinting as you make your way to the rental car. 

The GPS guides you into the heart of the outback, red dirt and scrubby bush stretching endlessly on either side. Sweat beads on your forehead as the AC sputters its last breath. Suddenly, the engine lets out a prolonged groan and the car rolls to a stop, steam billowing from the hood. 

"No, no, no..." You bang on the steering wheel before getting out of the car to pop the hood. You tap frantically at your phone. No service. Of course there’s no fucking service, you think to yourself as you toss the phone back into your bag. According to the GPS, the ranch is still 15 miles away. 

You sit on the scorching trunk, the heat of the metal dampened through your jeans, scanning the shimmering horizon for any sign of life. One hour passes, then two. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, your water bottle long since drained. As the sun climbs higher, a figure appears in the distance, barely a speck against the vast blue sky. It grows larger, taking the shape of a horse and rider. The horse canters closer until it towers above you, its coat glistening with sweat. Your eyes travel up the muscular legs of the rider, past slim hips and a broad chest, to settle on a face that makes your breath catch. 

You hear him say your name, watching as his pink, full lips form each syllable. His Australian accent makes the pronunciation sound sexy. 

“That’s me,” you answer. “And you are?” You use your palm as a make-shift visor to block the blinding glare cast by the bright ass sun as you look up at him, your eyes taking in his features. Those gorgeous pouty lips are accompanied by a strong jawline, a broad nose, and beautiful deep brown eyes that stand out against his tan skin. The face shaded beneath the wide-brimmed cowboy hat is absolutely breathtaking.

He swings down from the saddle in one smooth motion. "I'm Chan, the foreman," he says with a vibrant, dimpled grin. "We were getting worried when you didn't show up on time." 

His gaze rakes over you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your tank top clings to your curves. You feel stripped bare under his appraisal, heat rising under your skin that had nothing to do with the relentless sun. There is a glint in his eye, a confidence bordering on arrogance, that both unnerved and thrilled you.

"Car trouble," you reply, struggling to keep your voice even as you state the obvious. "I don't suppose you could give me a ride?"

Chan's lips quirk. "I think I can manage that." He holds out a hand, pulling you up off the car with surprising strength. "Ever ridden before?"

"Oh, I’ve ridden before,” you joke with a smirk, “just not a horse.” You swing your backpack onto your shoulders as the sound of Chan’s hearty laugh echoes through the air, his head thrown back in amusement. 

“Okay, then. Let’s get you on.” He gives you a quick lesson on how to mount the horse, instructing you where to place your hands and guiding your foot into the stirrup. With his strong hands grasping your waist firmly and steering you, you mount the horse. The leather of the saddle creaks under your thighs. After checking to make sure you are situated and comfortable, he effortlessly hops onto the horse directly in front of you. "Hold on tight then," he instructs as he throws a wink over his shoulder. "And enjoy the view."

You tentatively wrap your arms around his waist, fingertips brushing against the hard planes of his abdomen. As the horse lurches forward, you instinctively tighten your grip, your chest pressing against Chan's back. Even through his shirt, you can feel the heat of his skin, the flex of muscles as he nudges the horse forward. The rocking motion of the gallop jostles you against him in a way that feels almost indecent. You try to create some space between your bodies but Chan only chuckles, the vibration rumbling through you. 

"Relax, city girl. We've got a ways to go." He readjusts your arms around his body, bringing you back to the position you were in initially before you tried to distance yourself. 

His words held a suggestion that makes your pulse quicken. The scrubland blurs into streaks of ocher and sage as you surrender to the rhythm, to the solid warmth of Chan's body against yours. By the time the ranch comes into view, nestled in the shadow of a rust-colored mesa, your thighs ache and an unfamiliar tension coils in your core. Chan swings down and reaches up to help you dismount, his hands firm on your waist. For a charged moment, you are suspended against him, close enough to see the golden flecks in his eyes, to feel his breath ghost across your lips. Then your feet hit the ground, and the spell is broken.

"Welcome to Wandalla Station," Chan says, his voice husky. "Let me show you around." 

As he leads you past the weathered barns and corrals, you can't shake the feeling that you’d signed up for more than you bargained for. But as you sneak a glance at Chan's profile, the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders, the way his jeans cling to his round ass, the way he walks with a certain swagger, you find yourself craving the adventure. New York and its pressures feel worlds away. Here, under the endless outback sky, anything seems possible.

He leads you down a gravel path towards a small cottage. “I’ve sent someone with the tow truck to get the car and I’ll call a mechanic in the morning. You should have your luggage within the hour, but if there’s anything you need in the meantime, let me know.”

“I should be fine. Thanks.”

“This is you. There’s cold water and fizzy drinks in the refrigerator.” 

You nod as you set your backpack on the table. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Not a problem. I’m looking forward to having you with us over the next month.” He flashes his smile again before heading back out. “Dinner’s at 7:00,” he calls over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him. 

****

Over the next week, you try to throw yourself into ranch life, eager to embrace the change of pace. But it quickly becomes clear that your city skills are of little use here. The first time Chan takes you out to muster cattle, you can barely stay in the saddle. The horse seems to sense your inexperience, tossing her head and sidestepping skittishly. You’re pretty sure she gives you a side-eye. 

"Easy there, city girl," Chan calls, reining his mount effortlessly beside you. "You've got to show her who's boss."

His tone is teasing, but there's a glint in his eye that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m pretty sure she knows she’s the boss.” Chan smirks at your joke. 

You grip the reins tighter, determined to prove yourself. Chan reaches over, his hand covering yours.

"Like this," he murmurs, guiding your hands. His touch is electric, lingering a beat longer than necessary. "You'll get the hang of it soon."

And slowly, you do. The days take on a rhythm of their own - early mornings, the scent of eucalyptus on the breeze, the lowing of cattle. You learn to appreciate the burn of your muscles after a long day, the satisfaction of a job well done. 

And always, there's Chan. 

He's never far, his presence a constant pull. He flirts as easily as he breathes, his charm as natural as the landscape. You watch him joke with the jackaroos, see the way the station hands, male and female, hang on his every word. And when his gaze finds yours across the paddock, you feel the heat of it like a brand.

"Looking good out there," he says one afternoon, leaning against the fence as you brush down your horse. It’s taken the entire week, but she’s finally come around to liking you, just a little bit. But you’ll take what you can get. "You might make a proper jillaroo yet."

You roll your eyes, but you can't suppress a smile. "I thought I was just a ‘city girl’."

Chan grins, slow and devastating. "Oh, you are. But I've got a feeling about you. I think you might be fun."

Fun? you say to yourself, wondering how he’s defining the word, wondering what actually constitutes being fun in his eyes.

He saunters closer, reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers graze your cheek and your breath catches. For a suspended moment, you're caught in his orbit, drowning in the depths of his eyes and dimples. 

Then he steps back, the spell broken. He picks up the saddle and begins walking towards the barn. "Drink later?” he asks over his shoulder. “The crew's heading to the pub. I'll save you a dance?" His eyes meet yours.

You nod, not trusting your voice. As he walks away, you breathe out slowly, your skin tingling where he touched you. 

You know you're playing with fire. Chan's reputation precedes him - the love 'em and leave 'em type, a heartbreaker with a trail of conquests, a literal fuck boy. But out here, with the red dirt beneath your feet and the vastness of the sky above, consequences feel far away. 

That night at the pub, the crowd is lively; there are workers from the ranch as well as locals from town. You perch at the bar, watching Chan work the room. He's magnetic, laughter trailing in his wake. When he catches you looking, he winks, that damnable dimple flashing. 

As the live band plays, you watch Chan dance with a few girls. As he thanks one girl and she walks away, another swoops in to take her spot. He sways with each of them, their bodies grinding against his as he guides them expertly through the moves. He’s a great dancer. Your body aches to be next to him, to feel his touch.

Eventually, he finds his way over to you, leaning casually against the bar in front of your stool. 

“How’s your night going?”

You take a sip of your beer, savoring the cool liquid as it slides down your throat. "Not bad. Though I think I'm still adjusting to outback nightlife." 

Chan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, this isn't like your fancy New York clubs?" 

"Not quite," you laugh. The pub is crowded and noisy, music blaring from the speakers now that the band is packing up. The air is thick with the scent of beer and sweat. She hasn’t been to a place like this since law school. "But it has its charms." 

"Oh yeah?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping low. "And what might those be?" 

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity you find there makes you clear your throat. You're suddenly aware of how close he is, the heat radiating from his body. "Well," you say, struggling to keep your voice steady, "Good music. Cold beer. And…the company's not bad either." 

Chan's grin widens. “Well good then.” He finishes his beer and turns to face the bar. “Lia honey?” You turn to see he’s referring to the pretty brunette bartender at the other end of the bar, currently handing off two full pitchers or beer. 

“Another one?” she asks as she walks to the register to deposit the cash she was just handed. 

“Yes, ma’am. And I’m covering her tab,” he points his thumb in my direction.

“Got it.”

Chan returns his gaze to me. “Anything you want, it’s on me.”

“Thanks. So do you do this for all the ranch guests.”

“Not at all.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Just the ones I find incredibly sexy.”

“Here you go, Chris.” Lia slides him another bottle of beer. 

“Thanks, mate,” he says without breaking his eye contact with you. 

“I guess I’ll take that as a complement,” you respond when Lia walks away. 

“You should. You are incredibly hot, city girl.” He brings the bottle to his lips, taking a large gulp. He licks beer from his lips before another devastating grin crosses his face. 

You try to think of a response, but you’re a bit flustered. Instead of speaking, you sip your beer. Chan notices and chuckles at the effect he’s having on you. 

“Channie!” someone calls from the pool table. “You’re holding up the fucking game. Are you coming or do you need more time to flirt?”

“I’m coming, ya cunt!” he yells, before turning his gaze back to you. “Talk more later, yeah?” You nod. “Great!” 

While Chan and his friends play pool, you continue to watch him. As Chan lines up his cue, muscles flexing beneath his tight black t-shirt, you lean against the back of the stool and take a sip of your beer, your eyes focused on him as he shoots. He notices you watching and grins when you don’t avert your gaze. The game continues, but your eyes keep drifting back to him, each time meeting his gaze. A small smile creeps across your lips as you both share a moment of silent understanding before he takes his next shot.

"He's trouble, that one," a voice says beside you. You turn to see the bartender leaning against her forearms on the bar, her smile knowing. "Chan Christopher Bahng, breaking hearts across the Outback."

"You know him well?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

She laughs. "Everyone knows Chan. I'm Lia, by the way.” You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “He and I go way back. We’ve been friends since the first day of Kinder."

“What's his deal?” you ask, intrigued. 

“His deal?” Lia repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Chan’s a good bloke, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to women…. He’s a notorious flirt. He manages to have a fling with every new woman who moves to town and every tourist who passes through the ranch. He can’t help himself.”

You take another sip of your beer, contemplating her words. So, he’s a smooth-talking player, you think to yourself. I can work with that. But men that looked and acted like him often had small dicks or were bad in bed. You were willing to find out though.

“And despite him always telling them he’s not interested in anything serious or something more, they always fall for him…then have their hearts broken.”

“You too?” You hope she doesn’t think you’re being forward or nosy. 

“Eew, gross.” She makes a face like she’s dry heaving and that causes you to laugh. “Fuck no! He’s like my brother. Where you ladies see hot guy, I see a dirt eating, hair pulling, crybaby.”

“Heh! Sorry, I was just curious.”

“No worries. Can I get you another? Or something more expensive since Channie’s paying?” She wiggles her eyebrows and chuckles.

“Oh Lia, you and I will be great friends,” you say with a laugh. “I’ll just do another beer.”

As you watch Chan flirt and charm, you can't help but imagine his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck. The wanting is a physical ache, a pull low in your belly. 

Later, alone in your bed, you let your hands wander, tracing your fingers over your body. You imagine Chan above you, his eyes dark with desire. You feel his hands exploring every inch of you, his touch feather-light, and the heat of his breath against your ear as you sink your fingers into your core. As you pump your digits in and out, and alternate with rubbing your clit, you can’t help but to moan. When you cum, his name is a whisper on your lips. 

In the stillness after, you stare at the shadows on the ceiling. You know this is dangerous territory. You came here to escape complications, not to create new ones. But as sleep claims you, it's his face you see, that roguish grin inviting you to take a chance.

****

Your second week is going much better. You’ve learned a lot and are already showing signs of improvement. And the tasks you initially found annoying and tedious are now calming and meditative.

The sound of footsteps echoes through the stables, jolting you from your thoughts. You've been cleaning tack for the better part of an hour, the monotonous task giving your mind ample time to wander—to him. 

"Working hard or hardly working?" His voice is a lazy drawl, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turn to find Chan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. "Some of us take our jobs seriously," you retort, but there's no real bite to your words.

He saunters closer, invading your space. The air feels electric, charged with the tension that's been building between the two of you. "And some of us know how to have a little fun."

You roll your eyes, feigning nonchalance even as your heart races. "Is that what you call it? Fun?"

His hand reaches out, brushing a straw of grass from your shoulder. His touch lingers, trailing across your shoulder and down your arm. "You telling me you don't want to have fun with me, city girl?” His eyes lock on yours for a second before he leans down to whisper in your ear. “How long are you gonna play hard to get?" He pulls back to resume looking at you.

Your breath hitches. This close, you can see the faint scar above his brow. You can smell the scent of him—leather, vanilla, and sweat. 

"I'm not looking for complications," you manage, your voice shakier than you'd like.

His grin widens. "Who said anything about complications? I'm a simple man, sweetheart. I see something I want, I ask for it. I see something I like, I go for it."

And there it is, laid bare. The offer, the temptation. No pretenses, no promises. Just raw, unbridled desire.

Your eyes drop to his mouth. Those full, sensual lips that have starred in countless of your late-night fantasies. "And what is it you like? What is it that you want?" Your gaze flits back up to his eyes. You can be just as direct when you want to.

He leans in again, his breath hot against your ear. "I think you know."

Something snaps inside you, the last of your reservations crumbling. You surge forward, capturing his mouth with yours. He responds instantly, his lips fierce and demanding. It's a clash of teeth and tongues, a kiss that's more battle than caress.

His hands grip your waist, lifting you onto the workbench. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. You can feel him, hard and insistent, pressing against you. The two of you make out furiously while Chan rubs his contained, hard cock against your crotch. 

When he brings his hand to your belt buckle, you hesitate. "Wait," you gasp, breaking away. "Not here."

His eyes are dark, pupils blown with lust. "Then where?"

You shoot him a coy smile. "Tonight, after dinner. My cabin." He brings his lips back to yours and kisses you slowly, deeply for another minute.

“Tonight. After dinner. Your cabin,” he repeats, each phrase punctuated with a kiss. 

Later that evening, in the privacy of your cabin, you discover just how talented Chan's hands and mouth can be. He plays your body like an instrument, coaxing out symphonies of pleasure. His mouth moves from your lips down your neck. He leaves no part of you untouched - hot breath against sweaty skin, teeth and tongue tracing every curve along your collarbone, then moving to your breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, tugging, biting, teasing, before lavishing the same attention on the other breast. His lips continue their journey across your body, stopping briefly to kiss your belly button, then landing between your legs. 

He spreads your legs wide and buries his face between them, inhaling your scent deeply. His stubble scratches against your thighs as he teases you with gentle licks and nips. His tongue finds your clit and sucks gently, sending shocks outward. Then he slips several fingers inside you. You arch your back, moaning softly. "Chan...", you whisper, amazed at how good this feels. Your hips buckle up to match his movements, desperate for more. His fingers delve deeper, finding your G-spot and dragging against it rhythmically. You keep reaching down to tug at his hair, telling him how good he is without words. He groans against your clit, a mix of satisfaction and desire. The resulting vibrations teasing you more. You lose track of time, caught in the haze of pleasure. You're on the brink of coming but you want this to last forever. As you push him away, he looks up at you and grins. 

“Come here,” you whisper, and he is all too happy to oblige. He slowly climbs up your body and captures your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

He positions his dick at your entrance, inserting just the tip before pausing. “Tell me you want it,” he demands, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I want it,” you reply, staring into his eyes, 

When he finally sinks his hard cock into you, it's with a completeness that steals your breath. He’s huge; the girth fills you up and stretches you out, making you ache for more. His hips push into yours, rocking you against his shaft.

“Oh god,” you moan as his thick length slides in and out of you, grazing against your sweet spot with precision on each pass. You lose yourself in his intoxicating rhythm, in the slick slide of skin on skin. His touch is everywhere—bruising, worshiping, consuming. His mouth claims yours, adoration and lust mingling in the messiest of kisses. 

Your hands explore his broad shoulders as he positions himself deeper within you, pumping in and out of your wet heat. You dig your nails into his shoulders, leaving marks that will likely fade but that you hope will remain a reminder of this moment between the two of you for days to come.

Your climax is again building quickly, the waves of heat starting to pulsate outwards from your pussy. He murmurs dirty things in your ear that only serve to heighten the sensations. It simultaneously pulls you back to reality and causes you to lose yourself all in one breathless moment. 

"Almost there," he growls against your neck before biting lightly. You aren’t sure if it is a statement or a question. Your sharp intake of breath only fuels him, driving him harder into you as he pulls out to slam back in with a force that makes stars explode behind your eyes.

And when you shatter, it's with his name on your lips, coupled with praise and expletives escaping in a burst of raw pleasure. You come hard against him, writhing underneath him as a guttural sound escapes from somewhere deep within your soul—a mix between pain and ecstasy and pure bliss—the kind that only comes from being truly fucked well. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t even remember the last time you got fucked, much less the last time you were fucked like this. Fucked into the stratosphere.

He groans loudly, too, at feeling how wet you are when your walls compress around him, thrusting himself faster within you as cum explodes from his tip into the condom. He buries himself inside with one last hard thrust before collapsing beside you. 

In the afterglow, as you lie tangled in sweat-dampened sheets, Chan trails idle fingers along your spine. "Not bad for a city girl," he teases.

You swat at him playfully. "You're not so bad yourself, cowboy." You were impressed and he’d already proved you wrong. Big dick and good in bed. What more could a girl want?

He grins, that boyish, carefree grin that first drew you in. "Oh, sweetheart, you ain't seen nothing yet."

And as he rolls you beneath him, his mouth hot on your neck, you know he's right. This is just the beginning. The start of something reckless and wild and utterly intoxicating.

In the days that follow, you find yourself in Chan's bed more often than your own. Stolen moments between chores, frenzied couplings in the hush of night. Each touch, each kiss, is a brand, a claim. 

He takes you apart with expert hands, learning your body, your desires, the right combination of buttons to push. He whispers filthy promises in your ear, telling you all the wicked things he plans to do. And he makes good on every single one. He also always makes sure you cum every single time.

It's a haze of lust and sweat and pleasure so intense it borders on pain. You've never been so thoroughly ravaged, so completely consumed. Chan is insatiable, and you match him, hunger for hunger.

But it's more than just the sex. It's the way he makes you laugh, the easy banter that flows between you. It's the unexpected moments of tenderness—a brush of his hand, a soft look when he thinks you're not watching.

You remind yourself that this is temporary. That you're both just in it for fun. But in the quiet moments, when he's draped around you, one hand playing in your hair, the other hand tracing shapes into your hip, his heartbeat steady against your back, you can almost let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is something real, something lasting.

You know it's foolish. Chan is a wildfire, burning bright and hot. And you? You're just the kindling, destined to be consumed. But as he pulls you closer, his lips finding yours in the dark, you can't bring yourself to care. For now, in this moment, you let yourself burn. Let yourself drown in his flames.

The days blur together in a haze of stolen glances, teasing touches, and searing encounters that leave you aching for more. Chan is an addiction, one you can't seem to shake. Every time you tell yourself to pull back, to remember that this is just a fling, he's there with that cocky grin, those bulging muscles, and those skilled hands, drawing you back in.

"You're thinking too hard again," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he comes up behind you in the stables. "I can practically hear the gears turning."

You lean back into him, savoring the solid warmth of his chest. "Maybe I like thinking."

He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I can think of much better things for you to be doing."

His hands skim your sides, teasing, promising. His mouth sucks on your neck. You bite your lip, desire warring with doubt. "Chan..."

"Shh." He turns you to face him, his eyes dark with want. "Stop overthinking. Just feel."

And then he's kissing you, deep and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs. You cling to him, lost in the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours. Nothing exists but this, but him.

It's Lia who finally pulls you back to reality. Over drinks at the local bar, she fixes you with a knowing look. "You're falling for him."

You startle, nearly choking on your beer. "What? No. It's not like that. We're just having fun."

She arches a brow. "Honey, I've seen this story play out a hundred times. Girl comes to ranch, falls for Chan's charm, thinks she can change him. It never ends well."

Your cheeks burn, shame and indignation blooming in your chest. "I'm not trying to change him.” And you weren’t. Chan had been very clear about what this was and what it wasn’t. You had also agreed to not make it a thing. “I know what this is. It’s short-term fun. In less than 10 days, I’ll be back on the other side of the world, back to my life, and Chan will be a distant memory. A lovely memory, but a memory all the same. There will be no declarations of love or pleas for change." It sounded convincing. You just hoped you actually believed it yourself.

Lia's expression softens. "I hope so. Chan's a good guy, but he's not the settling down type. I'd hate to see you get hurt. I kinda like you."

“I appreciate that. But you don’t need to worry.” You smile at her before taking another sip of beer.

Her words echo in your head over the next few days. You try to distance yourself, to rebuild the walls Chan so easily tore down, in an attempt to maintain the casualness of your relationship. But he's always there, drawing you in with a look, a touch, a filthy whisper in the dark.

It comes to a head one evening. You're in the stables, brushing down your favorite horse, when you hear a familiar giggle. Your heart clenches as you peer around the corner to see Chan leaning close to one of the new ranch hands, his grin wide and flirtatious. You recognize that look, that pose, that tone.

Jealousy claws at your throat, bitter and choking. You know you have no right, no claim on him. But the sight still stings, a harsh reminder of what you are. What you aren't.

You avoid Chan for the rest of the day, throwing yourself into your work, and using the time to remember and recommit to the original purpose of your entanglements with him. But he finds you that night, concern etched on his handsome face.

"Hey, have I done something wrong?" he asks, reaching for you.

You step back, crossing your arms over your chest. "No. I just... I thought you might want some space. To spend time with... other people. I feel like I’ve been monopolizing your time." You uncross your arms, hoping to seem less closed off.

Understanding dawns in his eyes. "Is this about Jess? We were just talking."

"I know." You swallow hard, hating the quaver in your voice. "I just don't want to crowd you, or cramp your style."

Chan frowns, stepping closer. "Is that what you think? That I'm tired of you?"

You shrug, looking away. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. I'm sure you want some variety."

Strong fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "I want you." His voice is low, intense. "I'm having the time of my life with you. I'm not ready for this to end."

Butterflies flutter in your chest. "You're not?"

"Hell no." He grins, that familiar cocky tilt of his lips. "I mean to have you every way I can, as many times as I can, before you go back to your real life and forget all about little old me."

"I could never forget you," you whisper, the truth of it aching in your bones.

His eyes soften, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Then let me give you some more memories to take with you."

He kisses you then, deep and slow, his hands sliding under your shirt. You melt into him, into the heat of his touch, the promise of his words. For tonight, for the next week, he's yours. 

And you plan to make every second count.

The days of your final week blur together in a haze of passion and pleasure, stolen moments and heated glances. You work side by side during the day, the sun beating down on your skin, sweat dripping down your spine. But every brush of Chan's hand against yours, every smoldering look, promises a replay of the previous night's ecstasy.

And oh, how he delivers on that promise.

Each night, he takes you to new heights, exploring your body with a dedication that borders on worship. He learns every curve, every sensitive spot, playing you like a finely tuned instrument until you're singing his name in breathless gasps and pleas.

But it's not just physical. In the quiet moments after, when you're tangled together, spent and sated, he makes you laugh with his wild stories and shameless flirting. He listens intently as you share your own tales, offering bits of wisdom wrapped in his signature cheekiness.

You try to memorize every detail - the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the rumble of his laugh against your ear, the shape of his dimples, the feel of his calloused hands on your skin. You etch them into your brain, a bittersweet collection to carry back to the life you left behind.

And then, suddenly, your last night is upon you.

There's a heaviness in the air as you walk into Chan's cottage, a sense of finality that weighs on your chest. He feels it too, you can see it in the set of his shoulders, the flicker of something raw in his eyes.

"So this is it, huh?" His voice is light, but there's an undercurrent of emotion he can't quite hide.

"I guess so." You aim for a smile, but it wobbles at the edges. "Time for me to turn back into a pumpkin."

"Nah," he steps into you, hands settling on your hips. "You're a goddess, remember? Whether you're here or in New York."

Your heart clenches, affection and sorrow twisting together. You'll miss this, miss him, more than you ever expected. But you know this is how it has to be.

You wind your arms around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. "Then take me to bed. Give me something to remember you by."

His grin is slow, wicked, sending heat spiraling through your veins. "Oh, baby. When I'm done with you, you won't be able to think of anything else."

And then he's kissing you, deep and desperate, like he wants to crawl inside you and never leave. You answer in kind, pouring every ounce of passion, every unspoken feeling, into the press of your lips, the slide of your tongue.

Clothes hit the floor in a flurry of impatient hands, the need to feel skin on skin overwhelming in its intensity. He walks you back to the bed, lays you down like you're something precious, something to be cherished.

And then he sets about making good on his promise.

He worships every inch of you with hands and lips and tongue, bringing you to the brink again and again only to pull back, to tease, to prolong the sweet agony of your desire. He whispers filthy praise into your skin, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are, how he's going to make this a night you'll never forget.

When he finally sinks into you, it's with a groan that sounds like it's been punched out of him, raw and harsh and so unbearably sexy. He starts to move, deep, rolling thrusts that light you up from the inside, sparking along your nerve endings like wildfire.

You match him stroke for stroke, hips rising to meet his, nails raking down his back. He hisses as you scrape his skin. You're lost in him, in the motion of your bodies, the mingled sounds of your gasps and moans, the searing heat building in your core.

It's both too much and not enough, this feeling, this moment. You want to stay here forever, suspended in this blissful torment, this excruciating ecstasy. But you can feel your orgasm approaching, the coil winding tighter and tighter, demanding release.

"Chan..." It's a plea, a prayer, a benediction. 

He knows, he always knows. "I've got you," he rasps, his rhythm increasing, driving into you with a force that steals your breath. "Let go. Cum for me."

And you do, his name a broken cry on your lips as rapture crashes over you, through you, exploding in dazzling bursts of light behind your eyelids. He follows a heartbeat later, your name a reverent groan as he spills himself inside the condom, his face a mask of exquisite agony.

You cling to each other as you both come down, sweat-slicked and trembling, exchanging soft, sipping kisses that slowly bank the fire still smoldering in your veins. There's an ache in your chest, a looming sense of loss, but you push it away. This isn't the time for sorrow.

This is a time for gratitude, for celebration. For the joy and freedom and unbridled passion you found in his arms, in this wild Outback that now feels more like home than any place you've ever known.

You fall asleep wrapped around each other, your head on his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath your ear. In the morning, you'll untangle your limbs, share a final, lingering kiss. You'll drive away with a smile on your face and an unfamiliar lightness in your soul, ready to face whatever comes next.

But that's tomorrow. Tonight, in this perfect, shining moment, there is only Chan, and the blissful afterglow of being thoroughly, wonderfully, unforgettably fucked.

You wake a few hours later, surprised to see it’s still dark out. As you slowly open your eyes, the warmth of Chan’s body next to you envelops you. His peaceful expression makes your heart flutter. His thick, full lips call to you and you kiss them gently, causing him to stir awake.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs. “What a nice way to wake up.” He pulls you on top of him and deepens the kiss, his growing erection pressing against your folds. Your own body responds, as you involuntarily begin to grind your crotch against him resulting in him quickly growing harder beneath you. “Shit,” he whispers as his cock springs to attention. “The things you do to me….”

“Well, I’m about to do it one last time.” You take his bottom lip in between your teeth and pull gently before letting go and kissing it. 

Without a word, he reaches over to the nightstand to pull a condom from the decorative glass jar he uses to hold them.

But you quickly grab his arm, shaking your head in protest. "No," you say softly but firmly.

“No?” His eyes narrow to slits as he examines your face.

“No.” You move your hand to his cock, gently massaging it with slow strokes up and down. You make sure to run your palm over the tip each time you reach the top, eliciting soft moans from him. “I want to feel all of you against my walls,” you whisper, biting your lip seductively. Your crotch has not slowed its delicious grind against the base of his shaft. “If that’s okay.”

He can’t contain the wide grin that spreads across his face, his excitement evident at the prospect of fucking you raw. “Is that so?” he asks amused, the pronunciation of the last word heavy with his Australian drawl. You nod. He chuckles before continuing in a soft voice. “Whatever you want, love.” 

You lift your hips to position yourself over his cock before slowly sliding yourself down, allowing your head to roll back as you revel in each inch and savor every sensation as you take him all the way in.

Your body moves with a fluid grace as you ride Chan's length, the muscles of your thighs clenching and releasing in perfect rhythm with your hips. His hands find their way to your waist, gripping it tightly as he watches you. You bring your hands to his chest, stabilizing yourself on top of him. 

The bed springs creak in harmony with your movements as you continue to grind against him, feeling his cock hit every spot that needs hitting. You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold back a moan at the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body.

As you pick up speed, Chan's grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helps to guide your hips back and forth as he thrusts upwards. Each thrust makes you feel both vulnerable and powerful at once. You look down at him, taking in the sheer desire etched on his face, and it ignites a fire within you. You quicken your pace even more, loving the way his eyes roll back into his head with pleasure.

You lean down, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss that leaves you both panting for air. You break the kiss and let out a low growl, nipping at his jawline before looking at him again. "You like that?" you ask breathlessly.

His response is a groan mixed with another moan as he nods, his eyes still closed tightly. "God yes."

Encouraged by his response, you speed up once more, your movements becoming more frenzied as you grind against Chan with renewed intensity while you chase your final release. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," Chan groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. “Why do you feel so good?”

You lean down, pressing your chest against his as you kiss him deeply. The change in angle causes him to hit even deeper inside you, making you gasp against his lips. Chan takes advantage, his tongue sliding against yours as he thrusts up to meet your movements.

You can feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension building. Chan seems to sense it too. One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it's like a match to gasoline.

Suddenly, your body goes taut, and your inner walls clench rhythmically around Chan’s cock as you cry out, “Ahhhh!” The sight, sound, and feel of you coming undone pushes Chan over the edge. He groans your name. 

You rest your forehead against his as the two of you try to catch your breaths. You feel the sticky mess start to slide out of you. You don’t mind though, instead feeling a sense of contentment. Apparently neither does he; he is just as lost in the moment, his eyes closed and lips parted, as you breathe in each other’s air. Neither of you feel compelled to move and separate from each other to clean up the evidence of what was surely a poor decision on both of your parts. Absolutely fucking reckless; you both know better. Yet, in this moment, it doesn’t matter. The need for more was undeniable, and rational thinking be damned. 

The bad decisions always feel so right, don’t they.

He breaks the silence first. “That’s certainly one way to say goodbye,” he says with a grin against your lips. 

You chuckle and press a kiss on them. “Didn’t I tell you I could ride?” you whisper. 

His laughter rings out in the room as he wraps his arms tightly around you. 

****

The sun is high and hot as Chan loads your bags into the rental car, the red dirt of the Outback stretching out behind him. There's a bittersweet tinge to the air, a sense of an ending, but also of a new beginning.

You lean against the car, watching him, trying to memorize the lines of his face, the play of muscles under his bronzed skin. He catches you looking and flashes that familiar, cocky grin.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he teases, closing the trunk with a decisive thud.

"Don't tempt me," you shoot back. "I might just wallpaper my apartment with them."

He laughs, sauntering over to you. "I'll send you some nudes to add to the collection."

"You do that." The banter is easy, familiar; it soothes the ache of leaving. "Just don't be surprised if they end up on a billboard in Times Square."

"Mate, I'd be proud." He settles his hands on your hips, his touch igniting sparks under your skin despite the layers between you. "I'll show those city boys what they're missing."

Your chuckle is a little wobbly, emotion welling up in your throat. "I'm going to miss you," you confess softly. "Miss this."

His eyes gentle, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Me too," he murmurs. "More than you know." He stares deeply into your eyes. “Think you might ever return? Cause I certainly wouldn’t mind if you did,” he says softly.

You turn your head to press a kiss to his palm. “If I did, I’d need luxury accommodations next time.” You say, only half-joking. “I don’t know that I could rough it again!” You grin.

He snorts. “Ha! I thought you handled it well enough, city girl. Five-star accommodations can be arranged, if necessary.”

“That would be much appreciated. And if you’re ever in Manhattan, you should give me a ring.”

"Tempting." His thumb strokes your cheekbone, his gaze turning thoughtful. “New York City might be a bit too posh for a bushman like me. But if I ever make it there, you’ll be my first call." 

"I'll hold you to that," you whisper. 

Silence stretches between the two of you as you stare into his eyes. And then he’s kissing you, soft and sweet and full of unspoken emotion.

It ends too soon, as all good things must. 

He leans in, rests his forehead against yours. "This doesn't have to be the end, if we don't want it to be," he whispers. 

You pull away from him and raise an eyebrow. “Oh wooooow,” you say in a singsong voice. “Did someone catch feelings?”

A blush starts at his neck and travels up his face to his ears as he runs his fingers through his hair. He smirks and responds, “Maybe just a little.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “But don’t tell anyone; it could ruin my rep.”

You laugh and push him away playfully. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Before you know it, you're behind the wheel, the engine humming beneath you. Chan leans in the window, his smile soft around the edges.

"Drive safe," he says quietly. "And don't forget about me when you're back in your fancy office, bossing people around."

You swallow hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. "Never," you vow. 

And then you're pulling away, the ranch and the man getting smaller in your rearview mirror. You watch until you can't see him anymore, until the Outback swallows him up like a mirage; there one moment and gone the next.

But he's not gone, not really. He's there in the ache of your muscles, the bruises on your ass, the bite marks on your neck, the delicious soreness between your thighs. He's seared into your skin, imprinted on your soul. 

The drive to the airport passes in a haze of memories, snapshots of stolen moments and heated encounters flashing through your mind. The curve of his smile, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel alive, desired, free. It was a fantasy come to life, and now it's time to return to reality.

Check-in and security are a blur, and then you're settling into your first-class seat, the plush leather cradling your weary body. As the plane lifts off, you gaze out the window, watching the harsh, beautiful landscape fall away below you.

Despite the melancholy tugging at your heart, you feel lighter somehow, unburdened. The weight of expectation, of obligation, seems to have disappeared somewhere in the red dirt and endless skies of the Outback.

You came looking for escape, for distraction, and you found so much more. Freedom. Passion. A piece of yourself you hadn't even realized was missing.

And Chan... The thought of him brings a small, secret smile to your lips. He'd been everything you needed and nothing you expected. A friend, a lover, a safe place to land. Not a forever thing, but a perfect interlude.

As the plane carries you back to your life, to the bustle and pressure of the city, you close your eyes and let yourself drift, savoring the last vestiges of this stolen time.

You don't know what the future holds, if your paths will ever cross again. But you know you'll carry a piece of him, of this wild, perfect dreamtime, with you always. A reminder of who you are, of who you can be, when you strip away the masks and expectations.

After all, you muse, smiling to yourself as the clouds engulf you, that's the beauty of a fling. It's fleeting, but it's forever a bright flash of light against the darkness, a memory to hold onto when the real world intrudes.

And as for Chan... well, the Outback will always be there, waiting, if you ever need to find yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, so will he.

With that thought, you chug the rest of your champagne, then let yourself sink into sleep, dreaming of red dirt and strong hands, of laughter and passion beneath a sea of stars, as the miles unspool behind you, carrying you forward, carrying you home.

My Masterlist

[ponderingmoonlight]

I Love You When I Drink Champagne

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: In the late hours, with champagne in hand, Gojo’s teasing fades into something deeper. Beneath city lights and whispered confessions, you begin to wonder if his midnight promises mean more than he’ll ever admit in daylight.

Warnings: honestly none, this is pure fluff and ✨aesthetic✨ lol, it's getting a little heated y'all, you NEED to listen to the song that inspired this while reading I'm begging you guys

Inspired by I love you when I drink champagne by Eric Christian

It starts with the champagne. Always the champagne, the delicate pop of the cork that seems to echo across the room, as though announcing his arrival even when he’s already leaning against the doorframe, all tall and confident with that infuriating smirk you can feel even with your back turned.

The night is quieter than usual, just you, him, and the glow of the city filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment.

“Satoru,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder as he brings two glasses, the golden bubbles within catching the light like little stars.

He holds a glass out to you, eyebrows raised in that mischievous way that always makes your chest tighten.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on celebrating the small moments,” he comments, voice light, almost teasing.

You take the glass, but the moment your fingers brush his, a shiver runs down your spine. There's a warmth in his eyes tonight that feels... different, somehow softer, though his gaze is still as intent as ever. It’s almost as if he can see through you, right to where your heartbeat is pounding.

“You know, Satoru,”, the words spilling out before you can stop them,

“I feel like I’m always celebrating when I’m with you.”

There’s a brief flicker of surprise in his gaze before it’s replaced with something darker, a gleam that sharpens the lines of his jaw. He takes a sip of his champagne, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel the weight of that stare, like it’s made of silk and shadows, wrapping around you.

“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice a bit deeper, a bit closer.

“Then let’s make it worth celebrating.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his body radiating warmth that seems to mix with the champagne already making your cheeks flush. The air is thick, charged, and you realize you’re holding your breath as he leans down, his lips just inches from yours. His scent, a heady blend of something musky and dangerously intoxicating, fills your senses, making you dizzy.

“You know what’s funny?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your lips, making them tingle.

“I think I’m starting to fall for you, every single time we do this.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and you can barely bring yourself to breathe, let alone speak.

“You say that… but every time we drink, you say things like this. And then the next day, you act like nothing happened.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that makes something twist inside you, tight and needy.

“You know I don’t just say things, sweetheart. Not to you.”

And then he closes the gap, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s both gentle and possessive, like he’s savoring the taste of you, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s soft, at first. Too soft. But you feel the tension in him, in the grip of his hands on your waist, pulling you close until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the intoxicating scent of champagne.

You melt into him, letting the spark between you flare hotter, brighter, as his hands slide up your sides, tracing a path that leaves your skin tingling beneath the thin fabric of your black dress. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes darker, more intense.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint.

But you can’t. You don’t want to. Instead, you let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s not like you already know the answer.”

That’s all it takes. His mouth is on yours again, deeper this time, his hands moving with an urgency that has you arching into him, craving more of his touch, of the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters. Your champagne glass is forgotten, left abandoned on the table as you run your hands through his hair, feeling the silky strands slip between your fingers.

He presses you back against the cool glass of the window, the city lights sprawling out below as he kisses a path down your jaw, his lips tracing fire along your skin. His breath is hot, ragged, his hands roaming with a roughness that has you gasping, aching for more. His teeth graze your neck, sending a sharp thrill through you, and you can feel his smile against your skin, his satisfaction at each shiver he pulls from you.

Your hands move over his chest, feeling the warmth radiating through his shirt, and you can’t help but trace the hard fibres of muscle beneath your fingertips. His breath hitches, and he captures your mouth again, hungrier this time, his kiss leaving you dizzy, your thoughts hazy and wrapped in a fog of desire.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me this isn’t just the champagne.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words sinking into you, grounding you in the reality of this moment. Oh, it’s always in the champagne. It’s always when your heart wins over and you let yourself fall back into his arms each and every night just to act like strangers the next morning.

“I want this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but he hears it, and the look in his eyes softens just enough to make your heart ache.

“It’s never just the champagne for me. Not with you.”

The answer seems to set something free inside him, and his hands find the hem of your dress, sliding beneath it to brush against the bare skin of your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers are warm, firm, as he trails them slowly, teasingly higher, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to look away.

But you can’t. You’re completely intoxicated, caught in the fire between you, in the way he’s watching you, as though you’re something he’s longed for, waited for. His hands are everywhere: on your waist, your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, until you’re lost in him, your breaths mingling, your bodies moving in sync, pressed together in a way that feels both thrillingly new and achingly familiar.

It’s only when you’re completely tangled together, breathless and flushed, that he pulls back, just enough to brush his thumb over your lips, his eyes soft, almost vulnerable.

“I don’t just love you when I drink champagne, you know,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, his gaze searching yours.

“I think I love you all the time. Even when I pretend not to.”

Your heart skips a beat, the words sinking in slowly, warming you from the inside out. And in that moment, you know he means it - know that this is more than just a moment, more than just the champagne.

Satoru Gojo tells the truth.

And as his lips find yours once more, you realize that, maybe, you’ve been falling for him all along too.

His lips press against yours with renewed purpose, pulling you under, deeper into the whirlwind of his warmth. Your heart beats in time with his, the rhythm echoing in the hush of the room. You’re tangled in each other, fingers slipping beneath layers of fabric, hands exploring the expanses of skin that you’d only dared to imagine touching before the sun set.

Satoru’s fingers trace slow, teasing paths up your thigh, each touch sparking a blaze in your skin, making you arch into him, craving more. The coolness of the window against your back only heightens the warmth of his touch, his mouth moving along your jaw, down the curve of your neck, as if he can’t get enough. His lips, his tongue, the scrape of his teeth - they drive you to the edge, leaving you breathless and wanting.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint.

“Because if you tell me to stop, I will.”

But there’s no hesitation in you, not with the way his touch has unraveled you, his words making promises that hang heavily in the air. You reach for him, your fingers sliding through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp, his eyes darkening as they meet yours.

“I don’t want you to stop, Satoru,” you whisper, breathless.

 “Not tonight.”

That’s all it takes. His hands move with renewed urgency, his mouth capturing yours again, rougher this time, hungry in a way that speaks of all the times he’s held back, of all the moments he’s wanted this but held himself back. It’s like a dam has broken between you, and you’re swept away in the torrent of him, of his desire, of the fire that’s been simmering between you, now roaring to life.

His hands slide beneath your dress, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thighs, higher and higher, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch is firm, assured, yet gentle, as though he’s savoring every inch of you, memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands.

When he finally lifts you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and he presses you back against the cool glass, his body a solid weight against you, grounding you even as you feel like you’re flying. His mouth finds yours again, his kisses a blend of sweetness and heat, of promises and desire, and you lose yourself in him, in the way he’s touching you, holding you.

The sound of your soft gasps fills the room, mingling with his own ragged breaths, creating a rhythm that feels as ancient as it is intoxicating. You feel his hands slide along your sides, lifting your dress higher, his fingers splayed possessively over your hips as he pulls you closer, as if he’s afraid to let you go. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs your name, each syllable laced with longing, with need.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough, raw, as he looks at you with a reverence that makes your heart stutter, that makes you feel like you’re the only thing in his world.

“Satoru…”

Your voice is a soft gasp, barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send a shiver through him, his eyes darkening as he watches you, his gaze intense, focused, as though he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.

You’re barely aware of anything else. The city lights outside, the distant hum of the world beyond his apartment - everything fades away until it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in the warmth of his body against yours, in the taste of his kisses, the feel of his hands on your skin.

You sink into him, letting the last of your reservations slip away, trusting him to catch you, to hold you. And he does, his arms strong and steady as he pulls you close, his touch tender even in its urgency, his kisses a silent promise, a vow that he’s yours, that this moment, this night, is only the beginning.

By the time dawn begins to spill through the windows, casting soft hues of gold and pink across his skin, you’re tangled in each other, his arms wrapped around you, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath your cheek. The quiet is peaceful, almost surreal, as if you’ve entered a dream that neither of you want to wake from.

He shifts slightly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your shoulder, his gaze soft as he watches you.

“You know, I meant what I said. This isn’t just the champagne talking”, he repeats all over again.

You smile, brushing a kiss to his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him beneath your lips, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“I know. And I told you I feel the same way”, you whisper back, your fingers lacing through his.

For the first time, there’s no teasing smirk, no playful glint in his eyes. He just holds you, his expression open, vulnerable, and you realize that, for all his strength, he’s put his heart in your hands. And you hold it gently, knowing that this is the start of something you both know you’ve been waiting for all along.

And as you drift off to sleep, his arms wrapped around you, you can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’ve finally found where you belong.

And maybe tomorrow morning will be different from all those countless mornings the bedsheet was already cold next to you.

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