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lostandfoundbook · 7 months ago

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Chapter 7

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Tech week had been brutal. Running the routines together spontaneously while being mic-ed up was completely different. It made it feel all that more real, like she was actually about to be one of the biggest stages in the entire country and everybody would actually be watching her.

It had ALWAYS been one of her dreams to perform here. She used to stare up at the tall skyscraper building with her brother and sister by her side. She'd take their hand in both of hers and they'd walk along the sidewalks while waiting for their parents. Alex had known better at this point. Her parents were off doing shady things and she had to protect her siblings.

Instead, they'd find little solace in the shops in front of them as they paced the sidewalks. In the front of the theatre, where they'd stared at those signs countless of times as they watched the names light up in flashing colors. Over the years Oliver had gotten a digital display to replace the ones his dad used to have up, and Alex thought they didn't shine the same way.

This didn't stop her excitement when she saw her own name being plastered up on that building the week before tech week had begun. She knew it had to happen eventually, but it was like a real dream come true for her. All her hard work with this production was slowly starting to pay off.

All the people from the group chat Alex was in was sat in a circle backstage, and she figured it was probably time for her to join them. Over the past couple of weeks a few of her castmates had made their way up to her asking for photos of autographs of some form. All of them given the same warning not to post about her yet.

She thought she would be accepted but instead she was met with awkward stares from everybody as she placed her butt on the ground, sitting criss cross style. "Hey" Alex spoke weakly, giving a small wave. The crowd all lowly greeted her. The energy had clearly dipped when she arrived.

"Anyway.... What were you saying, Scott?"

"Never mind." The man-- Scott-- shot Alex a regretful look before darting his eyes in the opposite direction. "Please, don't let me stop you. I'm not someone who judges"

"No, it's oka--" Scott started, before a plump brunette girl wearing glasses stood up. "Nobody likes the ballet, and most of us think you're kissing up to the director. This is supposed to be some fine art academy teaching us high tier skills we'll be able to take on into our careers and we're being handed this bullshit. It's bullshit!"

"Amira! Not so harsh" Brandon barked out, pulling on Amira's hand to lead her back towards her seat. She ripped her hand out of his grasp and huffed as they sat down. Alex was left feeling conflicted. The statements made didn't feel accusatory, the same way they hadn't felt accusatory when Brandon mentioned them before.

It felt like co workers taking their complaints up the chain of command to their boss, with the boss in this situation being Alex. She didn't know how she found herself in this position.

"Listen. I like the ballet because I think it's pretty! I think it's fun and it's what I know how to do and I'm finally not in over my head drowning in stuff I don't understand and he made it really..." Alex started to trail off in her speech. She wasn't doing to well. "Easy?" she shrugged.

"That's exactly the issue" Scott added in. "It's easy for YOU guys. Not for us. It doesn't make sense why he's focusing on all the men in a musical centered around women and their story."

"It's not just about women, it's--"

"I know what it's about."

Alex pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. "I just think, maybe, my opinion on the matter isn't relevant? The director doesn't like me, and it's way to far into the production to make any drastic changes. I mean. It's tech week. we're supposed to be running through this to really polish it up."

"I know!" Amira replied back, standing again as she did so. "I mean, look at it" She motioned towards the room they were all sitting in.

A couple of people stopped to turn around and look. It was a big wooden built room that was divided into sections by columns and curtains so tall you could break your neck from looking at it's height. scaffolding lined the ceiling where the trestle lay which lead to the catwalk above the stage for ease of access for crew workers while still being unseen by the audience.

We weren't running our lines or doing anything significant, because tech was currently busy trying to code the lights to the band, so the cast members were in a constant state of Hurry Up And Wait

"So why don't we just rehearse on our own? We know the moves" Scott finally spoke out after a minute. "And what? Get yelled at by Dr. Mike for not being in our assigned locations? Yeah right." another voice spoke out, one she didn't recognize yet but knew she would have to learn eventually.

"It's worth a try, isn't it?" Brandon asked, his eyes quickly glancing over towards Alex's as if he were asking permission. "Let's do it"

They really did have it down. Their issue was lacking the passion for the project. "What's holding you guys back for this?" Alex asked, crossing her arms as she spoke. It was another form of default for her, as if she used it as a defense mechanism. "Well, part of it is not wanting to look like an idiot" Julia popped out.

"You guys don't look like idiots. Trust me." Alex shot back with an heir of caution in her voice, almost as if she didn't know how to approach the girl. "Well, I think we should try the lift, then." Brandon replied as he fiddled with his fingers. He seemed anxious about it.

"Uhm..." Scott started to say while side eye-ing the two. Brandon's arms went straight down to his side in fists as he began to get heated. "What?! You don't think I can do it? I can do it."

"You haven't done it yet" Scot chewed back. "Shut up! You haven't been able to get your arabesque without shaking. That's basic stuff to know. Don't come shouting at me for a more advanced technique when you can't even do grade school moves."

Alex could feel her cheeks heating up. She had never been able to afford advanced classes. Everything she learned was because she enrolled at an age where it was free for her, and her teachers saw the potential she had and after a certain point, but just couldn't let her attend for free anymore.

She found odd jobs on the side to make up money for classes when she got older but it wasn't cheap. Hearing the guys so openly share their experiences made her a bit envious.

"Alright, why don't we just settle down? We can try the lift. We have the space and we aren't needed for at least another hour, so why not? What could it hurt?"

"My pride." Brandon laughed out. "I'm kidding. Let's do it. Right now?"

Alex nodded in turn and stretched her arms out to prepare for the lift. It wasn't difficult. She was supposed to run and jump into his arms, and if his balance was steady enough, he would catch her. From there he would lift her onto his shoulder and spin around as the ensemble swarms in around them, just nearly blocking them.

And then the true life. Alex would be hoisted up above the sea of people crowding below and she would spread her arms in a flying motion. She would be a free bird and everybody would see her clearly. It would be exhilarating. But Brandon couldn't keep his balance steady, and that was where the issue lay.

"Just run towards me" he said as his knees practically buckled underneath him. "Um. You need to fix your footwork" Scott yelled out with his hands cusped around his mouth in a dramatic fashion. Alex darted a look towards him that said 'keep it to yourself' and readied her feet.

"You ready?" She spoke out, the two of them meeting eye to eye for just a brief moment. She could see the sweat gleam across his forehead. He steadied his feet beneath him before barking out, "I'm ready, do it!"

Alex made a dash towards the boy, her arms by her side in a zig-zag motion to help her keep her momentum. "Wait!" Brandon called out before pushing his arms in front of himself and wincing. Alex couldn't stop her speed enough in time and crashed right into him. "What was that for?!" She called out.

She looked underneath her to see Brandon looking... she wasn't quite sure how exactly he was looking in this moment. Confused? Upset? She couldn't quite place the emotion on his face.

"My footwork was all off. Scott was right."

"Your footwork doesn't matter. You need to catch her" Scott shot back, lifting his arms into the air as if to show him. "I know that! Lay off."

Alex stood up from being on top of Brandon and dusted herself off, offering a hand to Brandon so he too could stand. "Ignore him. Your footwork doesn't matter, I'm being serious here. What matters is the mindset you're approaching this with. You need to give it your 100% and approach this as if you've already done this lift."

Brandon gave her an exasperated look. "You can do it, Brandon. I believe in you!"

"Me, too!" Julia shot out, pumping her fist into the air. "You can do it!" Another voice rang out. Scott just rolled his eyes. "Just lift her up! You got it" He added in after a minute.

"Alright! Alright. Just give me a second" Brandon walked to the other side of the backstage area and took a couple of breaths. He was attempting to cool his nervous system down from whatever was eating away at him and preventing him from following through.

The thought of somebody barreling at you full speed isn't exactly an easy thing to deal with.

"Okay. I'm ready." He finally said and turned around again to face Alex. He motioned his hands in a 'come here' motion and nodded his head. "Okay" was all Alex said before she began to run towards him again.

She could feel the air brushing past her hair as she made her way towards Brandon. It was almost like the movies portrayed it. One lover runs towards the other through the field, their hands drawn out towards each other in desire and hope to embrace one another. Once the two made contact Brandon lifted her up into the air with his arms extended wide.

He stumbled a bit as he did so, as if he needed to catch his balance. Alex's weight was even on top of him and for once he actually held her weight above him. "That's what i'm talking about!" Scott yelled out and clapped his hands together, a few other people following in his footsteps.

Brandon looked towards the crowd of cast members and began to stumble. His knees shook and wobbled as he held her and he slowly lost his grips on her sides. The two of them came crashing down on top of each other again.

"You did it!" Alex called out, putting her hands between Brandon's shoulders and head. "Yeah, if you mean dropped you again!" he called out, pushing her off of him. She tumbled to the side with a grunt. "No! You lifted her, dude!" Julia called out, running over to help Alex stand up.

"Yeah. I lifted her, and then dropped her. Again. How am I supposed to go out and perform this piece if I don't even know how to put her down properly?! I don't know why I got this role and Scott didn't."

Suddenly the mini rivalry between the two made sense to Alex. "Brandon, you got this role because you're an amazing actor, singer, and dancer. This one piece doesn't represent you as an artist and you shouldn't let it hold you back, either. There's so much more to your abilities than being able to lift a girl above your head. That's a pretty arbitrary skill."

"It's not arbitrary in ballet" his eyes narrowed on hers, an expression of doubt in his face. "No, but it's a stupid prissy theatre that you shouldn't really give two shits about. Stop giving it so much weight in your life. It really doesn't matter" Alex finally said. There was a gasp from behind her.

"Ms. Gray! If you'll please, this is one of the most prestigious schools in the country!"

Alex whipped around to be met face-to-face with the director. "Sir! You missed our full conversa--"

He cut her off "I don't think that's matters!" Alex turned to look towards the other cast members who had all dispersed and made their way away from the scene. Typical. All of them, except for Brandon who resided on the floor. "I need you two for tech. Go out on stage and test the microphones. I don't want to hear another blasphemous word!"

"Right.." Alex said, sucking her lower lip into her mouth to bite. She reached a hand out towards Brandon to help him up again.

* * *

Making her way back to her room was easy at this point. Alex had slowly added the theatre and dance studio to her mental map of places in the hotel and had really become familiarized with her surroundings. She noticed all the cream moldings lining the banisters of the wall and the prissy, uptight wallpaper with a texture she couldn't quite name. What she new is it felt rich.

The hotel itself was very modernized and business-like. You walked in and it felt like you were there to do business, whether it was a work trip or some event happening there at the hotel. But one you got up to the VIP suites, the story changes. It feels older and different, like it was a picture taken out of a book from the 1930's that you were reliving in real time. It was more special than the rest of the hotel.

She understood why people stayed here on residencies. Being tended to in these nice suites, room service at your fingertips, servants at your beck and call, clothing in a walk in closet decked up to the nines, and the hotel even had a private pool located on the east side for the VIP residents.

Alex didn't get to partake in any of these luxuries. Currently, her room was being taken out of the check she receives each week from partaking in the Haven Entertainment Company. She didn't think she could afford it, until one day, she went ahead and checked her bank account. And she saw the $50,000 sitting there.

It made her giddy with glee. Like she was informed of some sort of secret that had been kept hidden from her. But it wasn't. Why hadn't she thought to check her bank account sooner?

Realistically, she couldn't just spend it on whatever, but she was interested in trying to seek out Morphine, somehow. She wasn't really interested until Everette had said something to her about it. It made something inside her yearn. For simpler times, for simpler solutions, for simpler relaxation. It all made sense in her head.

She was going to go on a date with Everette and get him to get her Morphine. This might mean kissing him, this might mean doing... other things. She actually didn't want to think about it. If she was being honest, some piece of her knew that she was asexual. That playing with men (and occasionally women) was just something she did because that was what was expected of her. It was the "right" thing to do, she would tell herself.

She was currently rummaging through her closet looking for an outfit to wear. She had already texted Everette and the two agreed to meet up at the bar downstairs. He was excited because she agreed to take photos with him. Anything she could do to butter him up.

She was stuck between the option of wearing shorts or a skirt. If she wore a skirt, she knew she wanted to wear a long sleeve shirt with it. But the bar could get pretty stuffy, and she didn't have anything cute to wear underneath a big shirt like she was planning.

Her option of wearing black shorts wasn't too appealing, either, however. She would've paired it with a lace patterned crop top that came down to about her ribs, and showed just a bit of midriff. This however was just a bit too revealing for a date.

When coupled with the issue, she decided to pull out her phone and go to Instagram. She put the outfits side by side and laid out a third option, just in case. She put the photo on her story with a poll saying "which is cuter (no context lol)" and put the third option, just as a joke.

To her surprise, that was the outfit that everyone picked. It was a black business skirt with a blazer, paired with a black bralette. It was more a club outfit than it was a date outfit, but it honestly was cute. She put it on and looked at herself in the mirror, fiddling with the blazer jacket.

She looked down towards her feet and noticed how shoe-less she was. She grabbed a pair of black strappy heels that went up her ankles and legs and she liked how they complimented the outfit.

She liked how it looked in general, but decided she needed to do a little bit of make up. b-lining it out towards her vanity in her bedroom, she was met face to face with Avery. "Oh! Hello"

Alex stopped dead in her tracks. "Hi!"

"I was just looking for you, but you seem busy." She said, pointing towards the door. "No! No, you're perfectly fine. Was there something specific you needed?"

"Well, first off, you look really beautiful. I don't know what you're doing but, gorgeous. Second off, the theatre just needed your measurements for costumes so that everything is set up for day after tomorrow!"

Alex paused and knitted her brows. "Day after tomorrow? Why not do it tomorrow?"

"Well" Avery started "It takes time to make the costumes, and we have multiple of them being made, not just for you, but for the entire cast and ensemble. It's going to be a lot of costumes and we're going to need a lot of people working on it. So it's going to take time."

Alex nodded, pretending like she understood the depths of what it took to run a production of this scale. "Right. Got it. Was that all?"

Avery smiled and nodded. The two exchanged their information and Avery was fast on her way out of the room with another 'You look beautiful' and 'I hope you have a good night'. She really was a sweet girl, but Alex didn't think she'd understand everything that involved Alex's addiction.

She didn't like calling it that. Her addiction. But that is what it was. She sat down at her vanity and continued to stare at herself. She hadn't really had the time to just stop and stare at herself in the mirror. She was much older than she remembered being, but maybe that was the amnesia. She hoped she'd get her memories back, soon.

In the mean time, she reached into the drawer of her vanity and pulled out her make up palette. She didn't remember the brand name, something like "Lara Michelle" that had faded away over the years. She smudged her finger into one of the brown colors on the palette and pushed it onto her eyelid.

She'd always heard that using a sponge or a brush was better, but she preferred this method. She achieved her classic look that she always wears out over the years by doing this, so she was going to keep doing it. She dotted the color white into the corner of her eye with her pinky finger and smudged it out, attempting to blend.

She grabbed the false lashed and the glue bottle and popped the lid off, slathering a hearty amount onto the little strip. After letting it sit for the near-minute it took to dry, she placed it onto her eye and rearranged it until it was perfect. She did the same for the other eye and suddenly they were complete.

All that was left to do was pick out a simple nude lipstick with some lip gloss and the look was complete. She did so with ease, and applied them just as simply as she did with her eyes.

When she was done she reached for a purse she had sitting on her vanity and passed it around her shoulder. She walked over to her night stand and grabbed her phone, scrolling through all the messages she had received.

"Be there soon. Love u babe."

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jungwnies · 11 days ago

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F1 GRID | somewhere along the way, friendship fades

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : childhood best friends drift apart, their connection fading with time. and years later, meeting again.

୨ৎ : genre : angst, sad themes ୨ৎ : tws : arguing ୨ৎ : word count : 3499

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i was watching "our little secret" on netflix and i got inspired to do this :c def a 10/10 watch

ʚ・max verstappen

the smell of burnt rubber and stroopwafels defined your childhood. growing up as the daughter of one of the engineers, your playground was the karting track, and your partner in crime was max, who seemed to never catch a break. scraped knees, stolen frites, and endless races—it was always a competition. and even though he was faster, you never let him win easily.

“you’re getting slow,” you’d tease when he’d lap you, and he’d fire back, “or maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

but childhood doesn’t last forever. as max’s talent propelled him forward, your worlds began to split. he moved to monaco, chasing the formula 1 dream, while you stayed home, building a life far from the roar of engines.

the breaking point came during one of his rare calls. you told him about getting into university, excitement bubbling through the phone.

“that’s great,” he said, but his voice was distant. “i’ve got a strategy meeting. i’ll call you later, okay?”

“but max—”

the line went dead before you could finish.

you never called back. neither did he. the silence was deafening, only broken by headlines about his victories.

years passed. you built your career, surrounded yourself with people who cared about you. still, there was always that quiet ache, a max-shaped hole you couldn’t quite fill.

...

fate intervened in monaco, of all places. a work trip brought you to the grand prix weekend, and there he was—older, sharper, surrounded by reporters. the boy you knew had grown into a man, but the familiar intensity in his blue eyes was still there.

he spotted you, and for a moment, time rewound. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, smirking as he pulled you into a hug.

“you’re really here,” max said, his voice even but his eyes giving him away.

“don’t sound too surprised,” you replied, crossing your arms. “monaco isn’t exactly hard to find, and my dad forced me to accompany him.”

he huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck—a gesture you remembered all too well. “it’s just... been a while.”

“whose fault is that?” you shot back, eyebrow raised.

his grin faltered, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “mine,” he admitted, no hesitation. max had never been one to dance around the truth. “i messed up. i thought... if i focused on racing, everything else would just stay in place. but it didn’t. i didn’t.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “and now?”

“now?” he shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “now i know better. or at least, i’m trying to.”

you rolled your eyes, but your chest felt lighter. “trying might actually suit you.”

“don’t push it,” he said, his grin returning. but his hand brushed yours, lingering just long enough to say what words couldn’t.

the two of you walked along the harbor, the chaos of the grand prix fading into the background. max talked about the weight of expectations, the need to prove himself, and you found yourself telling him things you hadn’t said aloud in years.

“you know,” he said eventually, glancing at you, “you were the first person to beat me. that’s why i kept coming back.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “don’t tell me i’m your origin story, verstappen.”

“i’m serious,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “you pushed me. you still do.”

“and you still hate losing,” you replied, your smile widening.

“only to you,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice—just max, stripped of the bravado.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, you realized the years apart hadn’t erased what you meant to each other. instead, they’d made it clearer. and standing there with him, the boy who always chased the fastest lap and the man who’d finally stopped running, you felt like you’d found your way back home.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the skate park beneath the london flyover, painted with graffiti and echoing with the rattle of skateboards, was where it all began. you and lewis—two kids with scraped knees and bigger dreams than you dared to say aloud. he was magnetic even then, always the showman, flipping tricks with effortless swagger while you rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh when he wiped out.

“you see that?” he’d grin, brushing off the dust like he hadn’t just landed flat on his back. “one day, everyone will.”

you’d shake your head, hiding your smile. “maybe if you stop showing off and stick the landing.”

those nights under london’s orange-tinted sky were your sanctuary. but dreams have a way of pulling people in different directions. lewis chased his at 200 mph, trading the skate park for circuits around the world. and you? you stayed grounded, carving out a life with your own quiet determination.

the drift wasn’t dramatic, just... inevitable. the calls came less often, the texts faded, and soon the only glimpses you had of him were on tv, his victories splashed across headlines. you were proud, of course, but it didn’t make the distance hurt any less.

years later, the rhythm of a jazz club in soho pulled you in. the smoky air, the hum of conversation—it felt like stepping into another world. and there he was, sitting in the corner, surrounded by friends, his laugh carrying over the music. he looked... different. calmer, more self-assured, the bravado softened into something real.

his eyes met yours across the room, and the recognition was instant. that signature grin spread across his face, and before you could overthink it, he was already walking toward you.

“it’s been a minute,” he said, his voice warm, familiar.

“a few laps around the world, at least,” you replied, crossing your arms but unable to stop your smile.

he introduced you to his friends—musicians, artists, people with the same kind of restless ambition he always had. the conversation flowed easily, stories and laughter filling the gaps left by the years. lewis talked about the weight of being at the top, his growing love for music, fashion, and using his platform for something bigger than himself.

“you’ve always been good at making noise,” you teased, and he laughed, that bright, unrestrained laugh you hadn’t heard in so long.

the night stretched into dawn, the city quieting as he walked you home. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, sneaking through the city after curfew.

“you were always my reminder,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “of where i came from. of what mattered before all of... this.” he gestured vaguely, as if the world he now lived in was too vast to put into words.

“and you were always proof,” you replied softly, “that even the wildest dreams aren’t out of reach.”

standing on your doorstep, the first light of morning brushing the horizon, it hit you—this wasn’t just a chance meeting. this was a reconnection, built on the foundation of a shared past and the people you’d become in the years since.

“don’t disappear again,” you said, half a command, half a plea.

“not a chance,” he replied, that grin softening into something more serious. “i’ve got too much catching up to do.”

as he walked away, the city waking around you, you felt it: the bond you’d thought you’d lost was still there, stronger for the time apart. and maybe, just maybe, this was the start of a new chapter you hadn’t seen coming.

ʚ・george russell

the beach at brancaster felt like a time capsule—same crashing waves, same salty breeze, but now heavy with memories you couldn’t quite shake. summers here used to be everything. you and george, running barefoot through the sand, laughing until your sides ached, dreaming of futures too big for this sleepy little town. he was the dreamer, always looking ahead, while you stayed grounded, the one to remind him where he came from.

but dreams pulled him away. karting turned into formula 1, and suddenly, the boy you shared chips and inside jokes with was a name on TV, surrounded by lights and cameras. the texts slowed, then stopped. he didn’t say goodbye—you weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

years later, you came back. the town had changed, but the beach hadn’t, and neither had the ache you felt when you saw him standing there, surfboard in hand, staring at the water like it might hold answers.

“you’re here,” he said, voice softer than you remembered.

“so are you,” you replied, trying to sound casual when your heart was doing backflips.

the conversation was awkward at first, years of silence sitting heavy between you. but as the sun dipped low, you found yourself talking like you used to—about life, dreams, and all the things you didn’t say before.

“i messed up,” george admitted finally, staring at the horizon. “i thought chasing my dream meant letting go of everything else. but i never stopped missing you.”

you wanted to be angry, to tell him how much it hurt, but instead, you just sighed. “you’re here now. that’s what matters.”

and maybe it was. because as the tide rolled in, washing away the old scars, it felt like a new beginning—not perfect, but something worth holding onto.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the spanish sun blazed down on the dusty karting track, heat shimmering off the asphalt. carlos was already revving his engine, leaning out of his kart with that trademark grin—the kind that got him out of trouble more times than you could count. "you ready, or are you still fussing over those tires?" he teased, voice playful but competitive.

"some of us like to win without excuses," you shot back, trying to mask your smile.

that was always the dynamic: his fiery, carefree confidence against your calculated focus. you made each other better, but more than that, you were each other's constant—until you weren't.

his talent took him places you couldn't follow. as carlos climbed higher, from karting circuits to formula 1, the calls came less, the visits stopped. he’d always promised, "don’t worry, we’ll figure it out," but the silence between you became louder than any excuse he could give. you told yourself it was fine, that this was just what growing up looked like. but it still hurt—a kind of quiet ache that settled in your chest every time his name flashed on a headline instead of your phone.

years later, you found yourself at a grand prix—not for him, not really, but you couldn’t stay away. the roar of engines, the smell of burning rubber—it all brought you back to those summers when life was simpler, when the world was just the two of you and a dusty track.

after the race, you wandered near the paddock, unsure if you wanted to see him. but before you could decide, you heard his voice: "¡tú! no puede ser…" (you! no way…)

you froze as carlos jogged toward you, his face lighting up in a way that made your chest tighten. "what are you doing here?" he asked, pulling you into a hug before you could respond.

"just watching the race," you said, trying to sound casual. "looks like you’ve gotten a bit better since karting."

he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "and you’re still a pain in my ass, huh?"

you fell into step beside him, talking as if the years hadn’t stretched so far between you. he opened up in a way you didn’t expect—about the pressure, the loneliness, the weight of expectations he never asked for. "sometimes, i miss the old days," he admitted quietly. "it wasn’t perfect, but… it felt real."

"it was real," you said softly, meeting his gaze.

the night slipped by as you talked about everything and nothing, the gap between who you were and who you’d become slowly closing. as the paddock emptied out, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

"i let you down," he said, voice low. "i got so caught up in everything… i didn’t mean to lose you."

you sighed, the bitterness you’d held onto finally starting to loosen. "i let you go, too," you admitted. "but maybe we’re both here for a reason."

a smile broke through his guilt. "then let’s not waste it," he said, his hand brushing yours as if testing the waters.

and just like that, it felt like the beginning of something new—different, but maybe even better. under the dim glow of the paddock lights, with the distant hum of the city, you let yourself believe in second chances.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the monaco grand prix had always been your thing. after every race, you and charles would sneak onto the track, the echo of engines still ringing in your ears. he’d climb the barriers, striking a dramatic pose like he’d just won. “take a picture! i need proof for when it’s real,” he’d say, grinning as you rolled your eyes but clicked the photo anyway.

back then, it was simple—just the two of you, two dreamers chasing something bigger. he was the wild one, always pushing limits, and you? the voice of reason, his constant tether. but as the karting trophies turned into f3 contracts, things shifted. the calls became shorter, the silences longer.

“you don’t understand!” he snapped one night, frustration simmering in his voice. “this is my life now. my future.”

“and we’re not part of that?” you shot back, fighting to keep your tone steady.

his face faltered, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. but then came the stubbornness, the pride. “this is bigger than us,” he said quietly.

those words broke something between you. and the silence that followed stretched for years.

...

monaco hadn’t been in your plans this year, but your friends dragged you to the paddock. the glitz, the champagne—it all felt so distant from the memories you held of sneaking around with charles, pretending to be part of the action. and then, there he was. sharper, leaner, every inch the f1 star. but when his eyes locked on yours, the familiar spark was unmistakable.

“still sneaking into races?” his grin was crooked, teasing.

“you’re one to talk,” you quipped, unable to suppress a smile.

he muttered a quick excuse to his entourage, then turned back to you. “come on. let’s see if the harbor’s still our spot.”

as you walked, the years apart melted away. the easy rhythm returned—teasing, laughing, sharing the unspoken weight of the years. he opened up about the pressures, the loneliness. you admitted the regret, the what-ifs.

“i never stopped missing this,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “missing you.”

“same,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “you were always...charles.”

“what does that mean?” he asked, a laugh escaping, but there was an edge of nervousness to it.

“it means you’re impossible. but you’re also...you.”

under the stars, by the water’s edge, the pieces fell back into place. his hand brushed against yours, tentative, before settling there. “so, is this where you tell me to stop being impossible?”

“never,” you said, smiling. “you wouldn’t be charles if you did.”

and for the first time in years, it felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

ʚ・lando norris

the fields of somerset were your world once, filled with the roar of go-kart engines and lando’s endless laughter. you two were inseparable—best friends with big dreams, racing not just for fun but for a future you both believed in.

“one day,” lando had said, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous, “we’ll both be there, except i'll be on the track, and you'll be cheering me on."

“in your dreams, lando,” you shot back, playfully shoving him.

but then the dream started to come true, lando got faster, better, and soon, he was gone, swept up by the racing world. at first, he called after every race, sending photos and jokes to bridge the distance. but the calls became fewer, the texts shorter, until one day they stopped altogether.

“you’ll always be my mate,” he’d promised before he left. but you weren’t so sure anymore.

years passed. you moved on—or tried to. then, one day, you found yourself at silverstone, sitting in the grandstands as the engines roared to life. lando was on the grid, his helmet unmistakable. it felt strange, watching him from so far away, like a stranger instead of the boy you once knew.

after the race, you lingered near the paddock, unsure why you stayed. you didn’t even realize he was there until his voice cut through the noise.

“wait—wait! is that…?” lando stopped mid-step, his wide eyes locking on you. “no way!”

you tried to play it cool, shrugging. “just thought i’d check if you’re still slow.”

his laugh was instant, that same contagious laugh you hadn’t heard in years. “still cheeky, i see. c’mon, don’t just stand there.”

before you could protest, he dragged you into the paddock, his energy as chaotic as ever. it felt awkward at first—forced small talk, apologies buried under nervous jokes.

“i messed up, didn’t i?” he blurted suddenly, his grin fading. “i got caught up in… all of this. forgot what mattered.”

you looked at him, surprised. “yeah, you did. but… i guess i get it. it’s a lot to carry.”

“still,” he said softly, meeting your eyes. “i should’ve tried harder. you didn’t deserve that.”

you sighed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “well, i’m here now, aren’t i? so stop being sappy and tell me how you survived that awful start.”

he laughed, a mix of relief and gratitude in his expression. “god, you're still an ass. don’t go disappearing again, yeah?”

“only if you don’t.” you snap back, with a cheeky smile.

as the night went on, the awkwardness gave way to something familiar—something that felt like home. and as you left the paddock, lando jogging beside you, stealing chips from your hand like nothing had changed, you realized it wasn’t too late to start over. the bond you thought was lost was still there, waiting for you both to remember how to hold on.

ʚ・oscar piastri

the family barbecue was meant to be casual—just a gathering of old friends and neighbors at the piastris’ home during the off-season. you hadn’t planned to go, but your parents insisted. “it’ll be nice,” they said, not knowing how wrong they were.

you spotted oscar almost immediately, standing by the grill with his dad. his posture was the same, hands stuffed in his pockets, but everything else felt different. gone was the boy you knew, replaced by someone who looked sharper, more distant—someone who belonged to a world you’d never been part of.

the last time you’d spoken was years ago, before his meteoric rise through motorsport. back then, you were the ones sharing data sheets, racing each other at karting events, and joking about who’d make it to formula 1 first. “we’ll always stick together,” he’d said, almost solemnly. but as the sponsorship deals rolled in and the calls stopped, you realized how naïve that promise had been.

you didn’t approach him right away. instead, you lingered by the drink table, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. but oscar was nothing if not observant.

“hey,” he said suddenly, appearing at your side. his voice was quieter than you remembered, less certain.

“hi.” you didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes fixed on your cup.

“i didn’t know you’d be here.” he sounded awkward, almost nervous, which was strange for someone who now handled press conferences with ease.

you shrugged. “didn’t really plan on it.”

a beat of silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. he shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. “look, i—i’m sorry. for everything.”

you finally turned to him, eyebrows raised. “for what? forgetting i existed?”

his face fell, and for a moment, he looked just like the boy you used to know—unsure, searching for the right words. “i didn’t mean to. things just… happened so fast. and i didn’t know how to balance it all.”

“you could’ve tried.” the words came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t regret them.

he nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “you’re right. i should have.”

another silence fell, this one softer, less suffocating.

“so,” you said eventually, crossing your arms. “what now? we pretend like nothing happened?”

he looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. “no. i don’t want that. i just… i’d like to fix this. if you’ll let me.”

you didn’t answer right away, letting the words hang in the air. but then you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “you’ve got a lot to make up for, oscar.”

his own smile broke through, hesitant but genuine. “i’ll start now then.”

and for the first time in years, you felt like maybe—just maybe—there was still a place for you in his world.

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motherismotheringggg · 26 days ago

Text

power play 🗄️

summary: you and cooper are office rivals with tension that could be cut with a butter knife

type: cooper koch x fem! reader (i obvi know cooper is gay, this is just fiction)

tags/warnings: handjobs, fingering, passionate kissing, oral (f! receiving), p in v unprotected sex, cream pie

author’s note: i had been wanting to write something inspired by cooper in these glasses for a MINUTE so this was fun. also if you sent me a request, just know im working on it!!! anyway enjoy and please gimme feedback if you have it

word count: 3499

🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️

Team meetings were always a drag, and this one was no different. Your laptop sat open, toggling between the agenda and a crossword puzzle on NYT Games.

“Congratulations to Y/N for closing the marketing deal earlier this week!” the team lead announced, breaking your concentration.

You perked up, flashing a confident smile as applause filled the room. Glancing around, you nodded graciously and threw a playful wink at a few coworkers.

“And a congrats to Cooper as well—he’s presenting his portfolio to the partners this week!”

The applause continued, but you stifled a groan, instead rolling your eyes with a sarcastic grin.

“Some of us tip-tap on social media, and others actually crunch numbers—but hey, we’re all working hard, right?” Cooper quipped, his smirk sharp as ever.

You didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’m sorry—if we’d known counting to ten was so hard, we’d have thrown you a parade,” you fired back, voice sugary sweet with a sting.

His smirk faltered, replaced by a hard squint and the clench of his jaw. For just a moment, his polished demeanor slipped, and you couldn’t help but savor the victory.

“Careful,” he muttered, leaning in just enough for you to hear. “I’ll make you pay for that later.”

The challenge in your tone sent a thrill through you, heat pooling low in your belly, “I sure hope so”, you said through a smirk.

-----

This push-and-pull had been building for weeks, a perfect storm of animosity and smoldering tension. Everyone in the office knew you and Cooper were rivals, constantly outperforming and excelling in your respective projects.

But for Cooper, it wasn’t jealousy that fueled him—it was fascination. Your confidence captivated him, the way you balanced grace and self-assuredness, never downplaying your success but never arrogant about it either. You were magnetic, a challenge he couldn’t resist.

Most women bent to his charm, but not you. When he crowded your space or accidentally brushed against you, you’d offer nothing more than a sly smile before carrying on. It drove him mad.

Meanwhile, his interest was obvious to you—the lingering glances, the way his eyes traced your legs in a mini skirt or lingered when you leaned over a desk. You weren’t blind to it, and you relished every second of his quiet frustration.

You kept teasing him, savoring every stolen glance and clenched jaw, until about a week ago.

-----

It had been a long day, and the two of you were stuck in the office late, prepping for a Zoom call with partners in a different time zone. To avoid technical issues, you both stayed behind, working through the fatigue to ensure everything ran smoothly.

After the call dragged on, you split the task of finalizing meeting notes, the office eerily quiet in a way that made even small moments feel charged.

In the kitchen, you leaned against the counter scrolling on your phone as the coffee machine whirred. Then, as if on cue, Cooper appeared.

He strode in purposefully, making direct eye contact before heading to the sink to rinse his tumbler. The air shifted immediately, though you tried not to show it.

“Good job on the call,” he said, his voice low and casual, though weighted.

You glanced at his back, noting the way his muscles flexed under his light blue button-up. Smirking, you replied, “Of course. I always deliver…you weren’t too bad yourself.”

He let out a soft laugh, drying his hands and turning to leave, only to pivot suddenly and close the space between you. Planting his arms on either side of you, he boxed you in, his body looming close enough for you to catch the woodsy warmth of his cologne.

Tilting your head, you met his eyes with a challenging gleam. “Need to get something off your chest, Koch?” you teased, voice calm but daring.

His gaze dipped to your lips, his smirk sharp as he leaned closer, heat radiating from him. “You love playing this game, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice rich and edged with something darker.

Your heartbeat quickened, but you kept your composure, leaning forward just enough to narrow the space. “Who says it’s a game?”

His jaw tightened, hands clenching against the counter as the tension between you crackled, the air thick enough to drown in.

For a moment, you thought he might hesitate—he’d never made a move before and clearly wasn’t used to a woman who challenged him. But then his hands gripped your waist, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing, and his mouth crashed into yours.

The kiss was frantic, his breath heavy as he devoured you. His lips were rough, his tongue insistent, drawing a soft sound from you.

Your hands weren’t idle, fumbling to undo the buttons of his shirt. As the fabric parted, your fingers grazed over his warm skin and the hard lines of his chest, your nails scraping lightly. He shuddered under your touch.

“Damn it, Y/N,” he groaned against your lips, his voice low and strained. He broke the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot below your ear. “You’ve been such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging just enough to make him hiss. “And yet,” you murmured, your voice dripping with challenge, “you never stopped chasing.”

His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as his fingers dug into your skin. Stepping closer, he pressed himself against you, his hard cock straining against his pants.

“I can play nice just this once,” you purred into his ear, reaching for his belt. His breath hitched as you wrestled with the buckle, his lips continuing their trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

Freeing him from his pants, you pushed him back slightly, creating just enough space. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you slowly licked your palm, never breaking eye contact.

“Fuck... you’re so fucking hot,” Cooper breathed, his voice ragged. Wrapping your hand around his length, you began to stroke him, deliberate and slow. His breathing stuttered, his shoulders dropping as a deep grunt escaped his lips.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry, each word heavy with satisfaction. “You’re such a mess, Koch.”

His eyes snapped to yours, blazing with desire and frustration, a shaky smile tugging at his lips. “Are you—” he started, but his words were cut off by a sharp intake of breath as your hand tightened, your wrist swirling expertly.

“Am I what, baby?” you teased, your lips curling into a smug smile as you quickened your pace. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

He exhaled a shaky laugh, gripping the counter behind him for support. “Are you... gonna let me... fuck you?” he managed, his voice strained but tinged with grudging admiration.

“Maybe,” you replied, leaning in so your breath ghosted over his neck, your hand never faltering. “But I like you like this.”

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But the way his body reacted to your every movement—how he twitched in your hand, how his breathing hitched whenever you changed pace—told you he was utterly at your mercy.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough and breathless. “Oh I know honey” you cooed back in response as he fell into you.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw, letting your lips linger. He let out a low growl, his hands moving to your hips, fingers digging deep into your skin to somehow ground him and the tension in his body.

A few seconds later, his release spilled warm against your hand, his muscles tightening before relaxing as he caught his breath. The air between you buzzed with the aftermath.

Without a word, you crossed the kitchen to grab a paper towel, your movements calm as he straightened and adjusted his clothes.

The silence was thick but not uncomfortable, and though your back was to him, you could feel his gaze burning into you. It wasn’t just a look—it was awe, mixed with something deeper, something that made him hesitate.

You liked it. You liked him like this—off-balance, unsure, but still captivated.

-------

And now here you both were again, another late night in the office. The hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards filled the air. Cooper’s cubicle wasn’t far, and his fingers flew over the keys, lost in his work.

You started to wonder if he’d forgotten his promise from earlier—or worse, backed out. The thought twisted your stomach. If he was going to take the lead, you didn’t want to miss it.

You loved having him at your mercy, weak and obedient, but you’d fantasized about him taking control—bending you over his desk,, his hands gripping your hips, his large hands slapping your ass hard enough to raise the skin. You craved that shift in power, him letting go of his restraint and losing himself with you.

The fantasy made you forget where you were. When you snapped back to reality, Cooper stood at your cubicle entrance, waving his hand in front of your face.

“Helloooo… earth to Y/N,” he teased, snapping you out of your trance.

You blinked, shaking your head, and quickly blamed your distraction on the work in front of you.

“I’m running out to grab a snack. Do you wanna come, or should I get you something?” he asked casually, but it felt off, almost too casual.

It threw you off—he sounded like a coworker, maybe even a friend, like nothing had been simmering between you two. For a moment, you wondered if he’d backed out.

Still, you nodded, searching for your wallet. “Yeah, could you grab me a ginger ale and one of those salami and cheese packs?”

Your words trailed off as your eyes met his.

Cooper wasn’t focused on your request. His gaze was hungry, undressing you with his eyes.

“Earth to Koch,” you teased, arching a brow, “If you’re gonna stare, at least buy me dinner, not just snacks.”

His smirk didn’t fade, and his gaze lingered. “Keep your money,” he said lowly, “I’ll take care of it.”

You leaned back in your chair, grinning slyly. “Is that so? From where I’m sitting, you’re used to letting me handle it.”

His smirk deepened, and he leaned down, bracing his hands on the armrests of your chair. “Well, daddy doesn’t mind picking up the tab… I do make more than you,” he teased, flicking his fingers with a smug grin.

You cocked your head and smiled. “But you’re good with taking the lead. Always have been,” he continued, throwing on his coat.

You held his gaze unflinchingly, the tension thick in the air, until he stepped back and walked away. You couldn’t stop the satisfied smirk on your lips as he disappeared down the hall.

------

Cooper’s footsteps echoed softly as he returned to the office, the bag of snacks and drinks crinkling in his hand. He made a quick stop by your cubicle, setting down the drink and snack you’d requested. But when he glanced around, he noticed you weren’t there.

Maybe she’s in the bathroom, he thought, shrugging it off as he turned back toward his own desk.

But the moment he sat down, he froze. Right in the center of his keyboard lay a pair of lacy pink panties—your panties—with a sticky note attached.

supply room <3

Cooper didn’t waste a second. He practically sprinted to the supply room, his long strides carrying him down the hall with a new kind of energy. His chest was tight, not with anticipation.

When he pushed the door open, his heart skipped a beat.

There you were, leaning casually against the small table, arms crossed over your chest like you had all the time in the world. The faint hum of the fluorescent light above cast a halo around you, but the devilish smirk on your lips said otherwise.

“Couldn’t even wait to finish your snack?” you teased, your eyes dropping to his heaving chest as you sat on the table, your skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

Cooper kicked the door shut behind him with a sharp thud, his gaze locked on yours, dark and determined.

“You’re insane,” he muttered with a smirk, stepping toward you with a determined glare.

Cooper crashed into you, his lips capturing yours with a fierce, desperate hunger that stole your breath. The kiss was a battle for control, his movements firm and possessive as he refused to yield, always staying one step ahead of your attempts to take the lead.

His strength overwhelmed you, leaving no room for resistance. His large hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head back as his lips left yours, trailing fiery kisses down your neck. Each nip and bite sent jolts through your body, unraveling your composure.

Cooper paused, his dark, desire-filled eyes locking on yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hand slipped under your skirt, his fingers finding your clit with deliberate, teasing circles. You tried to resist, still wanting him to work for it, but the whimper of his name betrayed you.

He licked his fingers before slipping one inside you, his pace confident and unrelenting. Your back arched in ecstasy as he murmured, "Mmhm, just like that... fuck, you're so wet," his voice low and intoxicating, urging you to let go completely.

“Exactly, Y/N... I like you just like this,” Cooper murmured, his voice low and gravelly as his lips hovered over yours. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips—just enough to leave you craving more. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees, his hazel eyes dark and focused as they met yours.

He hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, pulling you flush against his face. His tongue traced over your wetness, each stroke deliberate and hungry. Your head fell back, a heavy sigh escaping as your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging lightly. Instead of the whimper you expected, Cooper let out a deep, guttural grunt, the vibrations traveling through you and making you moan louder.

When you tried to buck your hips against his face, he steadied you, his strong hands gripping your hips and anchoring you firmly. “Mm-mm, sweetheart, stay right where you are,” he said, flashing you a mischievous glance, his hazel eyes glinting with control.

His commanding tone made your breath hitch, his hands grounding you as they sparked a deeper craving within. You wanted to move, to take charge, but Cooper’s firm grip and steady gaze kept you in place, thrilling you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

Your grip tightened in his hair, but there was no pulling him closer—he was already as close as he could be, his jaw flexing as he sucked harder on your sensitive bud, each movement sending you spiraling.

“Fuck, Koch, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your voice high and desperate.

“Don’t rush it,” he growled, his voice thick with authority. “Let me handle you.” The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, your body aching to let go even as you tried to hold out.

His slow, deliberate rhythm had you trembling, the tension building with each wave of pleasure he drew from you. You gasped, your hips quaking as his intense gaze locked on yours, grounding you in the moment. His grip tightened just enough to keep you still, a silent command to surrender.

“Think I forgot my promise from earlier?” he asked, pulling back just enough for his words to reach you, his face glistening with your slick. His voice was a low, teasing growl, leaving you breathless before he stood, towering over you.

In one fluid motion, he pulled you to your feet, his hands firm as they turned you around. His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, slipping it from your shoulders before ripping off his own. The warmth of his chest briefly pressed against your back before he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as his whispered words sent a thrill down your spine.

"You like a challenge right?," he murmured, his voice sending a fresh wave of heat through you, "don’t cum until I say so,let’s see how long you can hold out.”

A shiver ran through you, and you nodded quickly, unable to form words. That wasn’t good enough for him.

"Use your words," he ordered, his hands trailing down your sides, gripping you firmly.

“Yes, Ko…Cooper,” you stammered, the anticipation coiling tight in your stomach.

"Good girl," he muttered, satisfaction dripping from his tone. Without another second passing, he pushed into you, his swollen cock moved deliberatly, slowly, and utterly consuming. The angle stole your breath, his tip hitting your cervix in a way that left you in awe, all you could do was brace yourself against the table, gasping at the intensity of it all.

"You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart," Cooper rasped, his voice rough with control as he thrust deeper, his hips rolling with a intensity that made it harder to hold on. His grip on your sides was firm, grounding you, yet each movement chipped away at your resolve.

Your fingers curled against the edge of the table, fighting the mounting pressure inside you. Every inch of you felt on fire, every nerve heightened by the way he seemed to know exactly how to unravel you.

“Cooper,” you gasped, your voice barely audible, trembling under the weight of his command and the growing wave threatening to crash over you.

“I can feel you slipping, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he leaned in, his breath hot and teasing. “I thought you wouldve last longer,” he let out a low chuckle.

You usually pushed back when he was arrogant but how could you, here he was; finger tips dug into your hips, you biting your bottom lip to withstand the pressure building in your stomach from him filling you.

“Hold it,” he commanded, his hand pressing into your back pushing you down on the table.

“Cooper, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he cut you off, his voice firm but encouraging, his rhythm picking up again. The sound of his hips against your ass mixed with his low grunts and your breathy moans, filling the small room in a heady symphony of desire.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he felt your walls clench around him. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate to let go.”

You nodded frantically, barely holding on, every part of you begging for release. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Not yet,” he said, his tone dropping even lower, sending another jolt through you.

The dominance in his voice made your knees weak, but you obeyed, biting down on your lip to keep from tumbling over the edge. Each second felt like an eternity as he pushed you further and further, his relentless pace and commanding presence overwhelming you.

“Now,” he growled suddenly, his voice thick with need. “Cum for me pretty girl.”

At his words, your body obeyed, the tension snapping all at once as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of pleasure ripping through you. Your cries filled the air, your body trembling as Cooper held you steady, still stroking into you as you rode out your high.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his tone softening as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Good girl.”

-------

A few seconds passed in the quiet aftermath, the only sounds in the room your still-heavy breaths and the rustling of fabric as Cooper buttoned up his shirt. You leaned against the table, moving slowly as you tried to gather yourself, your legs still shaky and your mind buzzing.

He glanced at you, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. "You know," he said, adjusting his collar, "I always thought you’d be able to handle me better than that."

You shot him a look, one brow raised as you pushed off the table and smoothed down your skirt. “If I knew you were going to be that good, Koch,” you quipped, brushing past him, “I would’ve let you have me a long time ago.”

His grin widened, and he chuckled, stepping closer to you as you reached for your discarded blouse. “Well,” he murmured, his voice low but playful, “guess we’re just making up for lost time now, aren’t we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you slipped on your shirt. “Don’t get too cocky, Coo— Koch. I’m still recovering.”

“Trust me,” he said, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief, “I noticed.”

The warmth in his tone softened the moment, leaving you both standing there with a newfound ease. It wasn’t just the heat between you anymore—it was something more comfortable, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the last time.

#nasty remix #cooper koch #cooper koch x reader #cooper koch x y/n #cooper koch smut #cooper koch fanfic

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 15

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 15

Word Count: 3499

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Do forgive me for the small chapter... *sigh*

“Cariño, having fun?”

Shit.

“Sir?” You ask, feigning innocence.

“Don’t pretend, darling, it doesn’t suit you.” Doffy takes a step forward, towering over you in an intimidating manner. He has an unsettling grin on his lips and the usual glint in his red eyes. “You and my nephew? You can’t hide that pretty glow.” He purrs and you flush deeper. “Too bad that this time I didn’t get to hear any of your pretty noises…”

Doflamingo keeps circling you as if you were prey. His eyes locked on your form, noticing any shiver, any tremble, any kind of movement that might give anything away. “Of course, we can remedy that, mi querida. Anytime you want.” He leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “You see, while my dear nephew might have advised you to keep quiet, pretending to be sneaky, I would prefer to hear you scream my name loud and clear so every guest knew what I was doing to you and how much you were enjoying it.”

You take a step back, your breath hitching in your throat as your hands clench into fists. “That’s utterly inappropriate, Sir.” Then you try to move forward to get away from his clutches, but he towers over you again.

“That’s not what you want? Because I can figure out what it is.” Cocking his head to the side, he hums lightly, one finger pressed against his lips as if he’s in deep thought. “Is it power, then? Because I can make sure you’re in all the right circles, rubbing shoulders with anyone who matters.”

You stiffen at the implication. He’s trying to fish for information again. You just have to keep steady, there’s nothing to hide. Nothing except the agonising rhythm of your heart, your anxiety clawing its way up your throat, scratching it and making it hard to speak.

“No? Influence, then? I know all the right people. You’d never have to feel unnoticed again.” Raising your chin, you meet his gaze with defiance, showing more bravado than you actually possess. “Money? It has to be money. I can offer you a lifestyle beyond your wildest imagination: beach houses, penthouses, luxury cars, designer clothes… all yours.”

“I don’t want any of that, Doflamingo, Sir.” Your voice shakes a little and you curse under your breath. Doffy caught you at a vulnerable state and you’re still too addled for this to be a fair battle of wits.

“So it’s just the thrill of it?” Doffy starts to circle you again, one of his fingers running along a strand of hair, and you hold your breath. “You are so hard to read, princesa, so, so hard. When I think I have you figured out, you sweep the rug from under me.” He tuts and stops, chin resting on his knuckles, a pensive expression on his face as he looks at you.

“Then there’s Vinsmoke Ichiji. I mean,” he scoffs, “I get why you left him, he’s an asshole. What I don’t get is why you were with him for four years. It just doesn’t add up. What did he give you? What did you gain from that relationship?”

Heartache? Trauma? Pain?

“And what do you want from Law?” Doflamingo almost growls, the smirk now gone, replaced by a frown as he leans down, his face mere inches from yours. “Because I know you weren’t together before this weekend. You weren’t dating.” He raises his hand to stop the words that are about to leave your lips - a weak denial, actually - and he continues. “Don’t deny it, princesa, once again, it doesn’t suit you. I investigated this, whatever you two have, and it happened this weekend. But I want to know why. What do you want from Law?”

You decide not to answer him. Your heart seems ready to jump out of your chest at a moment’s notice, and you’re more flustered now than you were after your little escapade with Law.

“It’s okay, I’ll figure you out, one way or another. You won’t get what you want. I will find out just what makes you tick, and then you’ll fold. They all do.” Doffy’s words are menacing and ominous, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“I’m not hiding anything. I am who I am, and Law and I are together because we care about each other. I am not a puzzle waiting to be solved.” The words leave your lips through clenched teeth. Hard-edged, shaky and defiant, leaving you breathless with the effort of keeping steady.

“Oh, cariño, but you are.” He caresses your cheek, making you hiss and step back. “I will solve you. Don’t worry.” His laugh follows him down the corridor until he disappears around the corner, a hand in the air waving goodbye as you try to catch your breath and calm your unsteady heart.

-*-

You run into Law as you decide to go to the bathroom instead of heading towards the reception area. You’re so deep in your own head that you nearly stumble into him.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, what's going on?”

With a frustrated grunt, you tell him about your encounter with his uncle. “So now we know he knows, plus Ichiji is here, and I’m feeling more and more trapped, Law.” You sigh. “It’s like Doffy won’t relent until he breaks us apart.” Your trembling hands clutch the lapels of Law’s jacket. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Law never wavers. His cool, controlled persona manages to calm your irrational fears and delusions as he brings you closer to him. Amber eyes piercing straight into your soul, keeping you tethered as your lack of control sends you spiralling further away from reality.

“Sweetheart, you won’t lose me.” Law kisses your temple softly. “So what if Doffy knows we weren’t together before? Let him believe what he wants, we’re together now, and we’re leaving tomorrow. Nothing he says or does will keep us apart. Okay?”

You nod, and Law sighs, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. “I should’ve never brought you here. I’m sorry. I knew my uncle was… extra, and I still subjected you to this.”

“Don’t say that.” Your whisper almost gets lost in the confines of his vest, where you have your head buried. “If you hadn’t asked me to do this, ‘we’ might not have happened.”

Law’s chuckle is quite cocksure. “Trust me, sweetheart, ‘we’ would’ve happened. One way or another.” You blush as a smile finally creeps its way onto your lips. The warmth in your chest expanding and taking hold of you. He seems so certain of the possibility of you two as a couple, like nothing could ever stand in your way. It's heartwarming.

It would be so easy… just open your lips and say it: I love you. It’s not that hard. You’re not ripping out a piece of your soul, even if the last person you uttered those words to completely destroyed you.

Law is special.

Just say it.

Say it.

Law cups your cheek and tilts your head so you can face him. “Let’s go back? Get this wedding over and done with so we can finally go home?” You nod, teetering between the lines of the bitter and the sweet. Your words seem trapped, lodged in your throat, held ransom by deep-seated trauma. And yet, you know that you’ve never loved like you love Law. And you know it’s a feeling that will only continue to expand and grow.

But the words remain imprisoned.

-*-

The cake has been cut, the bouquet tossed and the remainder of the night seems to have cooled off all of Doffy’s and Ichiji’s attempts to disrupt your newfound peace. Just another hour or two before you and Law can retire to your room, and then this whole nightmare will be over.

So the dream can finally begin.

It might be silly, since you’re still at the beginning of the relationship, but perhaps because of the romantic vibe of the wedding, you can’t help but think about what your next steps will be. You’ll date, obviously, because you never properly did that; you’ll spend a lot of time together; and then… maybe you can think about living together. Give ‘domestic’ another chance.

You and Law at at the table, resting your feet after standing in heels all day and he’s in the middle of promising you a very long massage once you’re back in your room. His lips hover over your ear as his fingers trace your thigh with a feather-light touch.

“I’m very good with anatomy, you know. I’m a doctor.” He teases, and you giggle, your eyes fixed on his. “I’ll start with your feet - I’m familiar with a lot of acupuncture pressure points, and some of them might bring you interesting sensations - then I’ll climb to your calves, knees…” His fingers trail up your thigh, his gaze mischievous. “Thigh… inner thigh…”

“And…?” You ask, breathless.

Law kisses your face, then your jawline as you turn, letting him catch your lips in a tender kiss. “And I can’t disclose the rest of my plan. I’ll keep it a surprise. I want to hear every little startled gasp that leaves your lips.”

A small chuckle makes your chest tremble. “You tease.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Baby 5 and Sai approaching. They’ve been making rounds to all tables, thanking guests for coming and bestowing little gifts to them as a thank you. Law notices her approaching too, and he leans back slightly, his hand leaving your thigh and with it an empty feeling.

“Soon, sweetheart.”

“Dear cousin!” Baby 5 smiles as Sai holds out a wicker basket of small gifts. “Oh, honey, there aren’t any more of those little whiskey bottles. Could you grab more?” She bats her lashes, and Sai complies, leaving her to engage in small talk with you and Law while he retrieves the gift. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

She actually seems like she’s glowing from all the happiness. You nod excitedly while Law teases her, saying he’s attended better weddings. They banter a little, and you find yourself relaxing some more, hoping the night continues without any more hiccups.

Except, as usual, things don’t go according to plan.

“Oh, I had no idea your girlfriend knew Sai’s groomsman, Ichiji! It all turned out perfectly after all, right?” She says your name and smiles. A pinch of dread twists in your stomach as she turns to the side and waves someone over. It’s Ichiji.

You and Law immediately straighten up in your seats, your relaxed state long forgotten. His arm settles on the back of your chair protectively.

“Ichiji, hi! I was just commenting on how remarkable it is that you two already knew each other. Doesn’t it make things easier?” Ichiji’s smirk reveals his canines, almost as if he’s a predator locking onto his prey, his intense gaze never leaving you.

“Indeed. So remarkable. You know, Baby 5, we go waaaay back.” Ichiji’s stance speaks of provocation, and Law straightens further, his arm brushing your shoulders as you clutch your drink tighter, your jaw locking and legs bouncing restlessly. “Don’t we, Doll?”

Your breath hitches, and you don’t look back at him, but Baby 5 doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort.

“Oh, how fun! You two must have some great stories to share, no? How’d you two meet?” Closing your eyes and holding your breath, you just will this moment to come to an end. Perhaps if you pray hard enough, Sai will come back with the gifts, and the bride and groom can go on their merry way.

Even without looking, you can feel Ichiji’s smugness as he slowly sips his drink. “We met in college. Those days were wild… the stories we could tell…”

“I don’t think anybody wants to listen to that, Vinsmoke.” Law’s voice cuts as sharp as a knife, though he has perfect control over its tone.

“Oh, come on, Trafalgar. I’m sure she didn’t share everything. Isn’t there anything you want to know about her wild days in college?” Memories come rushing back, and most of them are painful and demeaning. It seems that, even if there were some good moments at the start of your relationship with Ichiji, they were all drowned when he tainted everything with his manipulation and cruelty.

Your breath comes out in shaky gasps, and Law’s hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulder blade. “She told me all I need to know. Even if she didn’t, there’s nothing you can say that will interest me.” Law’s words are delivered with more calm and ice than you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s also an undercurrent of danger pulsating beneath. His protective instincts are kicking in, and you can sense him itching to act on it.

Baby 5 keeps smiling, though it seems a little strained now that she senses some sort of tension between the three of you. “Wait… I don’t understand. Were you two…?” She trails off, her eyes darting from Ichiji’s smug look to Law’s protective stance, then to your cowering form. Her brows raise in slow realisation and Ichiji interjects.

“Yes. We were in love, once. Engaged to be married, even. Small world, indeed, isn’t that right, Doll?”

You squirm in your seat, and Baby 5’s expression shifts to horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Her gaze keeps darting between Law and yours. “I didn’t know! I never meant to make things awkward!” She laces her arm through Ichiji’s trying to drag him away from the scene, but he doesn’t budge.

“What do you mean, awkward? Not at all! We were just planning our future together, laying the foundations for our dream life. We were even discussing kids, right?” You can’t help it, your gaze falls back on his as all the colour drains from your face. How dare he?

You can barely breathe. The air is stifling, the heat overwhelming and the memories don’t stop. The word ‘Doll’ resounds in your head over and over as do his lies and manipulations. The clenching of your chest at how he made you feel, the powerlessness you had and all the power he held over you.

It’s too much.

All colours start to blur together, the room spins as you try to catch your breath, anxiety kicking in. In a second Law is up on his feet, pulling you up by the hand and supporting your weight against him.

He pins Ichiji in his cold gaze and practically snarls, his control slipping. “I warned you to stay the fuck away, Vinsmoke.”

Baby 5 looks mortified, she keeps trying to pull Ichiji but Law is already ushering you away from the table since you seem unable to do much more than stand. “Ichiji, let’s go, please. I didn’t know! I’m sorry.”

“Oh, come on, Baby 5. Don’t worry, we were just reminiscing about the good times. No harm, no foul, right, Doll? I mean… she was mine first.” Your chest keeps tightening as the room becomes smaller, constricting, suffocating. Bringing your hand to your neck you try to claw for air.

Before leaving, Law’s towering frame seems to engulf Ichiji’s. In his gaze there’s an unspoken warning as he delivers his words with a calmness you would never be able to achieve. “You’re done here, Vinsmoke, but I am not done with you yet.”

The warning lingers in the air as Law steadies you, his hand on your waist, and leads you away from the table, away from Baby 5, away from Ichiji, and away from all the painful memories.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Focus on me.”

But you can’t. The room is spinning out of control, and Ichiji’s manic laugh is all you can seem to focus on. His words, his empty promises, his threats, and fake concern. It’s a whirlwind of dizzying thoughts, and you don’t know how to get out.

You can feel yourself fighting for air, gasping because nothing seems to fill up your lungs. And suddenly you’re swaying in Law’s arms. He’s taken you to the dance floor, pulling you closer to him as his arms ground you.

“You’re safe. I’m here. He’s gone.” His hand presses against the back of your head, pulling you to his chest so you can follow the beat of his own heart and try to steady your own. Slowly, you start to hear the soft music over Ichiji’s laughter. Law’s voice pulls you out, keeping you centred. “He’ll never touch you again. You were never his.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you slowly feel yourself gaining ground. Your lungs are functioning again, and your heart beat is steadying. There’s nothing you can do to stop the tremble in your hands, though, so you just clutch Law’s jacket as tightly as you can, burying your face in him and inhaling his soothing scent, again and again.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re such a mess. You’ve already lost count of how many times Law has had to bring you down from your panic. It’s a full-time job for him now, and you feel the need to say you’re sorry. Would he still want you if he knew how badly damaged you were? You might be in too deep now, but there’s always time for him to regret his decision.

You sniffle, and a whimper leaves your lips. Law keeps swaying you.

“How about a little distraction, hm?” Ever the attentive man, Law senses that words alone won’t stabilise you. “Let’s play a game, sweetheart, okay?” He tilts your chin so you’ll have to focus on his eyes.

“Game?” How foreign your voice sounds. Shaky, weak, trembling and fragile.

“Yeah.” He smiles gently, placing a small peck on your nose, trying to coax a smile from your lips. You try to focus, the bad memories slowly slipping away. “I bet I can make you smile before the song ends.”

It’s such a silly notion that it manages to shake you back to your senses, though the trembling still hasn’t subsided. “Make me smile?”

“Sure. If I manage to make you smile three times before we end our dance, I win.”

Your brows furrow in concentration. “And what happens if you win?”

“Bragging rights.” You twitch the corner of your lip but it’s not quite a smile, so he continues. “Fine. You’ll have to admit that you like me way more than you let on.”

Yeah, you do. So much more.

The first smile fully curves your lips upwards as you let out a breathy laugh, and Law’s posture loses some of its stiffness. “That’s one.” He grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Some of the tension begins to dissipate, and the weight pressing on your chest feels lighter. Your fingers are no longer clutching Law’s jacket for dear life. “Fair enough. What if I win?”

“Hmmm…” Law looks up, seemingly thinking of something to make you laugh again. Then a mischievous smirk fills his lips, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I’ll let you be on top.”

Your breath hitches, and even when you try to fight it, a laugh escapes your lips as a flush fills your cheeks.

“Two.” Law pulls you closer, the intensity in his gaze returning. He sways you some more before kissing the top of your head and voicing his thoughts, “I’m not going to let him near you again, sweetheart. I’m sorry he ever did.”

You nod, feeling the knot in your stomach finally start to unravel. Law’s soothing words manage, once again, to ground you and to make you feel appreciated. The burning in your eyes and the tears that threatened to spill recede, and you feel more at ease.

“I trust you, Law.”

Law smiles, and the music begins to fade in the background. “One more?” He playfully asks, and as you’re about to retort that he’s out of time, he dips you, suddenly and too low. A squeak leaves your lips at the surprise, followed by a heartfelt laugh. When you look into his eyes, he’s grinning. “Three.”

“You’re ridiculous, Law.” You chuckle as he pulls you upright. He looks utterly pleased with himself, smug and cocky.

“Maybe, but I won.” The song has ended, but you’re still wrapped up in his arms.

“You did.” A sigh leaves your lips. “Thank you.”

“So you’re feeling better?” His thumb caresses your cheek, his lips inches from yours. You hum in agreement to his question. “Good. My reward?”

You flush deeply, lost in the amber of his eyes. Your stomach twists and coils, and your heart thrums faster than ever. But it’s not an overwhelming, disturbing feeling. It’s freeing, uplifting, and so damn satisfying.

“I love you, Law.” The words seem weightless, a whisper that carries all of your emotion. Law receives them with a soft smile, his eyes shining brightly as he leans even closer, breaths mingling, making your lips tingle, anticipating his kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

|Chapter 16|

#reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #reader x law #you x law #reader insert #the meet cute #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d water law

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awitch2 · 11 months ago

Text

The actual chance for Grian to not have gotten a mending book so far is ~13,5%

Grian is not that unlucky.

The chance to get an enchanted book when fishing with luck of the sea is 1.9%

The chance to then get a Mending book is about 2/133 or 1.504%

Multiply those two and you get a chance of about 1/3500 chance to get a mending book when fishing

The most recent information on how much Grian has fished I could find is from Iskalls video where Grian says he used his fishing rod 7150 times taking out the times he didn’t catch a fish I would round to 7000 times

Taking all the into account we get: (3499/3500)^7000=13.52966%

The in a graph that would look like this:

#grian #fishing #minecraft #hermitcraft #hermitblr

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 2 years ago

Text

Clothes make the man

AN: There is no plot here. This is just porn. I have nothing to say for myself other than this is Kai's (@lovelyhan ) fault, and this outfit has haunted me for three years now. I had to get this out of my system. I resisted with the Daddy kink this time around but, this is still me largely pushing my 'Joshua is kinkier than I feel like people give him credit for' agenda so. Now I'll disappear in shame and embarrassment *finger guns.*

Synopsis: You don't expect to feel so strongly about one of Joshua's stage outfits.

Heads up: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, established relationship, Dom! Joshua, Sub! Reader, mentions of previous thigh riding, Reader mentions boot humping in passing once, scent kink if you squint, hand and arm kink of sorts (Reader is really into Josh's hands and arms), praise (f. receiving), pet names, Reader has an oral fixation, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers, hints of a size kink, dirty talk, mirror sex, nipple play (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), risky sex/public sex (they fuck in Josh's dressing room and are vaguely worried about being caught), vaginal fingering (f. receiving), mostly clothed sex, me pushing my big dick! Josh agenda, unprotected piv sex, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers post fingering, it's insinuated that Reader is a masochist, rough sex, dacryphilia kink, creampie and Reader being plugged afterwards.

Word count: 3499

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The cool air from the air conditioner prompts you to tug your cardigan closer to you as you continue to catch up on your scrolling for the day while you wait for Joshua. He texted you that he'd likely be finished with his group shoot for the day in the next half an hour or so and, that you could just wait in his dressing room before the two of you head home.

He finds you completely engrossed with your phone when he does eventually finish up for the day. His lips ticking up in amusement since you still haven't registered his presence.

"Is what's on your phone really more important than your precious boyfriend? I'm hurt," he says with a faux pout to catch your attention. Leaning against his dressing room door.

You pointedly choose to ignore his chuckle when his voice quite literally causes you to jump in your seat. You turn to face him sheepishly, "Hi, Josh. I'm sorry I didn't realise-"

The words die on your tongue in an instant when you take in what he's wearing.

His shirt accentuates his shoulders in a way that is wholly unnecessary. Worse still, his arms are on full display for you to drink in. Muscles flexing and veins visible while he stands there with his arms crossed. And god, his pants. They all but force your eyes to focus on how they flatter his thighs, and you're suddenly hit with a barrage of memories. Memories of Josh flexing them underneath you while you hump them in an attempt to cum. An amused gleam in his eyes as he watched you because you both knew you'd never cum the way you wanted to.

Is it horrible to admit that even his boots are so attractive? In the very deep, private parts of your mind, you think he'd like the idea of watching you grind against them to get off. Maybe if you ever find the courage, you'll ask him.

"Are you okay?"

You're broken out of your thoughts by Joshua's concerned voice. Blinking, you focus back on him only to find his handsome face twinged with confusion and worry. The way his inky hair sticks to said handsome face isn't helping your conundrum, but you do feel guilty for worrying him when you're spiralling over him in one of his stage outfits.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry, I just got a little in my head there."

"In your head? About what?" Dread coils in your gut at the question. You're determined to look anywhere but, directly at him. Fiddling with your phone in your hands while your mind races to think of a half decent answer.

"Um- just school. You know, this semester's been pretty busy. Plus, I have a few assignments due in the next month, so I've been trying to figure out how to schedule my calendar around them. Then it'll be the holiday, but you know never too soon to start preparing -" You're rambling. You know you are, and so does Josh, but the words continue to tumble out of you.

"You're a terrible liar," he interrupts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day. To your absolute horror, he's moving closer to you until he's intimately in your personal space. Oh, this is worse. So, so much worse. Because his scent invades your senses too and, embarrassment warms your face when it dawns on you that you're wet.

His large, warm hand cups your jaw and gently nudges your face up until you meet his intense gaze. His thumb strokes your cheek gently when and, you so badly want it in your mouth instead, but your mouth feels as though it's been stapled shut.

Dread, anticipation and desire form a lethal concoction in your veins when Josh's face shifts from concern and confusion to understanding. The corners of his plump lips lifting up in way that muddles your mind further and causes more of your wetness to trickle onto your panties.

"Oh, I get it now," he rumbles with a laugh that's far too amused, "If you wanted me, you could've just said so." You suddenly find his face mere centimetres from your own with hold on your face keeping you from shying away. Even after being with him for all this time, you still find it difficult to meet his gaze head on occasionally. Maybe you're afraid he'll see just how truly far gone you are for him. Maybe his eyes will finally devour you whole and, you don't know if you'd ever be able to come back from that.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," he coaxes gently, his face softening momentarily while his thumb drags along your bottom lip. Blinking up at him you finally find your voice again and the words rush out of you, "I'm here. I-I want it. Want you."

Kissing Josh is perhaps one of your favourite activities to partake in with him. His lips are so soft and, even as his tongue teases its way into his mouth, he takes his time. Determined to rile you up just with his mouth and his firm grasp on your face. Your hands reach up for him, feeling like you'll be driven to madness if you don't touch him somehow, somewhere, anywhere. Your hands find purchase on his massive biceps. Hisses pressed against your lips when your nails bite into his skin.

A whine leaves you before you can stop it when he pulls away from you, looking down at you through dark bangs and lidded eyes. "Can we go home?" You ask, your panties starting to cling to you uncomfortably just from this godforsaken outfit and some kissing. You're not sure how much longer can take not having him.

"What's got you so riled up?" He asks instead, genuine curiosity colouring his tone. You elect not to give him a direct response, "Can't I just think my boyfriend is hot?"

"Oh, you absolutely can and, while I'm flattered, we both know me being just hot doesn't get you nearly this worked up," he retorts, leaning down once more to lightly kiss along your neck. His hands shoving your cardigan from your shoulders until it pools around you. You bite back the whimpers that so desperately want to fall from you with every brush of Joshua's lips against your sensitive skin. Your thighs rubbing together in search of any semblance of relief.

"Come on, be a good girl and tell me," he mutters, one of his large hands dragging down your body until it rests a little too high on your upper thigh. "Or do you want me to get it out of you another way?"

"Your outfit," you blurt out immediately, you know Josh's mind is always coming up with frighteningly inventive ways to punish you and, you don't think you could handle that today. Not with how you're barely keeping it together as it is, "You- You look good. Really, really good."

That makes him take pause, "Really? That's it?" He doesn't sound judgemental or as though you just told him the most idiotic thing the world. Just... genuinely surprised.

"Yes," you whine, "Now can we go home please?"

You nearly choke on your spit when he resumes his assault on your poor throat, and his hand finds itself between your thighs, automatically spreading for him because of course they do. Something guttural and from the depths of his chest hit your ear when his fingers brush against your slick panties. Prompting your hips to chase the friction, tightening your hold on him as well.

"Fuck. Fuck, you weren't kidding," he breathes as though you've completely knocked the wind from him. However, he's gone from your body in instant, "Shua, where are you-"

Your question is answered when you see him lock the door only to stock back over to you, his erection testing the durability of these pants and somehow making them look more appealing. Saliva pooling in your mouth while your walls clamp down borderline painfully around nothing.

"My poor baby. I don't think you'll last until we get home," he says, his thumb dragging along your bottom lip. His eyes darken further when he eases it into your mouth, and you suck immediately. Just happy to have anything occupying your mouth.

"I'll just take care of you here. Up," he commands, stepping away from you to give you space to rise to your feet. You blink up at him but when you're only met with an eyebrow raise, you stand up immediately. Letting your cardigan, phone and bag rest on the chair as your boyfriend looms over you. The intent in his eyes more than enough to quicken your heartrate and stiffen your nipples under your casual dress.

"So you do know how to listen," is all the warning you receive before you're all but, shoved against his vanity. One of his hands fondling your breast over your dress while the other drags you by the hip until there's no space between the two of you. His erection burns against your stomach even through the layers of your clothing. Just as heavy with intent.

You moan into his mouth with every brush and squeeze of his hand over your breast, electricity shooting straight down your spine to your clit with every one of his touches but, it's not enough. You want to feel him.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, Joshua has always had a knack for being six steps ahead of you, you find yourself facing your reflection in his mirror. You already look like a mess. Eyes glazed and a little watery with your lips bruised from how thoroughly he's been kissing you. The straps of your dress barely cling to your shoulders, and your breasts jiggle with every heaving breath you take.

A gasp flies from your lips and you hold onto his vanity when Josh presses himself, more specifically his erection, against you once more. You think you may lose your mind if he doesn't just fuck you. You're sure you're more than wet enough to take him by now. You're not quite sure whether you want him to keep his clothes mostly on or, touch his soft skin.

"You're distracted again," he tuts against your shoulder before pressing featherlight kisses to all of the skin he can reach there. A stark contrast to the way his hands roughly tug down the straps of your dress, your breasts free and goosebumps rising when they're met with the cool air of his dressing room.

He meets your gaze in the mirror as he touches them once again. A choked whimper gracing his ears when he barely drags the tips of his fingers over your nipples, "Maybe I'm doing a bad job keeping your attention," he pouts but, that look is in his eyes. Your knees nearly buckle when he tugs on them more harshly this time, soothing them with gentle rubs that make you feel dizzy.

"Is this why you didn't wear a bra today?" The drop of a few octaves in his voice significantly worsen how empty you are in this very moment, "So I'd touch and play with your tits?"

"What a slut you are."

His words coupled with his stupid, stupid, skillfull hands force a drawn out mewl from your throat. Your foggy mind desperately trying to find any words to respond to him.

"Josh- Shua, no I- I didn't think I'd take long to pick y-you up. So, I didn't wear one," you whimper in response after a particularly harsh tug. He puts on a show of humming in thought as though he's not still pinching and toying with your nipples, tears building in your eyes with ever minute he's not inside of you.

"I don't know," he drawls, the air in your lungs stopping as one of his hands snakes its way down your dress until it reaches the apex of your thighs, "Something tells me you didn't wear one so I'd just have to bend you over and fuck you."

If everyone could only see their sweet Joshua now. Spilling filth against your skin while his hand assesses how wet you are and his hips shallowly grind against the swell of your ass for a bit of friction. They'd likely have an aneurism.

A moan far louder than you intended bounces off the walls of his dressing room when his fingers find your clit over your ruined panties. His eyes shutting briefly as if to collect himself before he continues drawing steady circles. You've never been more grateful for the table in front of you because you're sure you would've collapsed into a heap on the floor if you didn't have it to support you.

"Not too loud," he mutters into your skin with a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. His hand slipping into your panties to touch you a directly, his throaty groan combining with the moan that you couldn't quite bite back in time when as his fingers tease your wet folds. Your eyes screwing shut as they shallowly dip in and out of your neglected hole.

His hands still, and that prompts you to open your eyes, confused as to what made him stop. "None of that. I want you to see. I want you to watch," he says, his reflection holding your gaze once more. His other hand drifting to hold your jaw in place. Not too harshly but, with enough pressure that you know better than to move.

Whether as a reward or because he simply wants to, eventually sinks a thick finger into you. The stretch prompts a jumbled mess of gasps and whimpers from your chest. Your eyes barely remaining open with the relief of finally having something inside of you.

"There you go," he groans against your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake, "That's my baby."

The angle is a little awkward but, your hips chase the curls of his finger regardless. The need to shove down all of your noises of pleasure becoming increasingly challenge with every exploitation of your weaknesses Josh uses against you.

You don't receive much of a warning this time when he eases a second finger into you, this time the stretch is a little more than you can handle, "J-Josh," you choke out, your wetness dripping down his palm.

"My slutty girl you're doing so good," he coos, kissing the back of your neck while he grinds his erection against your ass, "Taking my fingers so well. Can't wait to feel you on my cock."

That causes a more visceral reaction from you. Your walls clamping down on his long fingers as one of your hands grabs his forearm, "Please. Pl-Please. Shua please. I-I want it please," you couldn't feel embarrassed if you tried. Joshua tended to have that effect on you.

He rests his head against your shoulder briefly, "Gimme a second," he says, the dip of his voice sending shudders down your spine. You cringe a little when he pulls his fingers out of you, your wetness coating them generously. You watch him unbutton and unzip his pants with baited breath, "Can you- can you keep your clothes on?"

Joshua meets your gaze with his eyebrows raised before that knowing look returns to his face. He laugh would sound beautiful if you his cock wasn't minutes from being inside of you and you weren't dripping onto his dressing room floor, "Sure."

Your gratitude comes out as a strangled whimper when the fat head of his cock prods at your slick entrance, "I don't know if I should be offended that you're this wet because of some clothes and fingering," he mutters. You couldn't respond to him even if you tried. Your mind just occupied with the idea of finally being filled by him.

"Cock drunk already huh?" He muses, meeting your gaze briefly before glancing down to watch himself split you open. His quiet moans being drowned out by your much, much more vocal ones. You're not sure you'll ever quite grow accustomed to his first thrust. Especially given the rush and your impatience, his slow push into you stings a little bit more more than usual but, the pain only fuels your arousal.

"Fuck," he groans and you're inclined to agree with his sentiment, "Always so wet and tight for me." If you could find the words you'd tell him the reason you're so tight is because of how big he is but, you're too preoccupied with trying to remain standing.

He's nestled so deeply inside of you when he finally bottoms out. His hips flush against yours and his tip kissing your cervix, quieter whimpers leave you with every throb and pulse of him inside of you. "Open," he grits into your ear, his fingers still slick with your wetness resting on your bottom lip. You open your mouth without much of a second thought, the slightly salty taste of your wetness flooding your taste buds and you realise very quickly why Joshua shoved his fingers into your mouth.

He pulls back only to thrust back into you without much mercy, your moans fortunately being muffled by his fingers. His heavy, lidded gaze takes in the way your drool around him, some of it dribbling past your lips while he continues to fuck into harshly and quickly. He's not sure how much time he has left before someone comes knocking so, he'd rather make this quick. He can take his time with you when you're at home.

You gag around his fingers slightly when he angles his thrusts marginally, smirking when he hits that spot inside of you that causes you grip him like a vice and nearly go limp in his arms. Joshua supports you through it all. Hitting that spot over and over again until overwhelmed tears trickle down your face and you're sure you could cum from this alone and, his muffled groans and grunts with every unforgiving intrusion.

"You know what your tears do to me, baby," he moans hoarsely, his thrusts stuttering slightly when he drinks in the combination of tears and spit smeared on your gorgeous face. All you can do is nod hurriedly. Telling him without telling him that you want it. You want him to cum.

"My precious cumslut of a girlfriend," he laughs breathlessly and without much humour, his pace picking up considerably and the sounds of your wetness and his heavy balls slapping against you ringing out obscenely throughout the room. "Always so greedy for my cum," he moans against your shoulder, his other hand hurriedly reaching between your thighs to rub frantic circles against your neglected clit.

Now you really are happy he had the foresight to make you gag on his fingers. You're not sure you could've silenced yourself even if you tried your utmost. The symphony of your choked noises of pleasure and Joshua's muffled ones join the increasing noises echoing throughout the room. Your walls tighten around him viciously, your toes tingling and even more tears springing forth from your eyes.

Josh cums first. A throaty groan of your name and a few curse words your only warning before you feel him pulse inside of you. Ropes and ropes of his warm cum flooding your awaiting pussy, his hips jerking into you sporadically and his hold on you almost bruising. His attempts to keep rubbing your clit proved fruitful because it doesn't take you long to tumble over the proverbial edge along with him. It takes a significant amount of conscious effort not to bite down on his fingers as your orgasm rocks your system. Josh moaning again as your walls spasm and clamp around his softening cock.

Once you'd ridden out the more intense parts of your climax, Josh removes his fingers from your mouth. Your shared, laboured breathing the only sounds that could be heard.

"If I knew you'd react like this to my outfit, I would have worn it sooner," he says with a chuckle that sounds far too full of himself. Not that he doesn't have a right to be but still. "You just look really good okay, god," you mutter once your voice finds you again. Cringing both from the scratchy quality of your voice and, Joshua slowly pulling out of you. Quickly putting your panties back in place. A surprised gasp flying from your lips when he pushes the fabric into you with two of his long fingers.

"Wouldn't want you to waste it," he says, his eyes heavy with want once again when they they find yours, "After all you worked so hard being my little cumslut. Who knows, maybe if you manage to not leak a drop I'll fill you up again."

You resent the way your body shudders but, you nod all the same, "I won't spill a drop, Shua."

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