#and undeniably best season opener

[doesnotloveyou]

Love that Sonny intentionally steps aside to let Rico handle this one.

this man won't dodge a bullet, but he's gonna pass on this nonsense

[greengoblinswifey]

Moth to a Flame- Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you find yourself entangled with your co-star, Nicholas Chavez, despite being in a committed relationship. The chemistry between you ignites on and off set and the lines blur, leading to a heated affair.

warnings— fingering, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral, cheating(reader does), praise kink, degrading kink, not proofread i fear.

a/n: this is long asf but you’ll love it, read while listening to Moth to a Flame by The. Weeknd <3

On set, the tension was palpable. The cameras were rolling for season two of the show where Nicholas and you, as the main characters, were set to film an intense love scene. The script called for his character to finally confess his desire for you, despite your on-screen character’s relationship with someone else. Ironically, it wasn’t just the characters who were tangled up in complicated feelings. In real life, you and Nicholas had crossed the same line, and it made filming the scene that much more real.

Your boyfriend, Cody, who had always been a bit uneasy about you acting alongside Nicholas, was on set that day, watching the scene unfold. The moment Nicholas delivered his line with intense conviction- “I want you, fuck your boyfriend,” It was almost like a direct hit to Cody in real life. His fists clenched, and you could feel the heat of his glare even from where you stood.

The scene continued, Nicholas's hands on your waist, pulling you close as you kissed for the first time this season. The chemistry between you both was undeniable on and off and that only seemed to infuriate your boyfriend further. Before the director could call “cut,” Cody stormed forward, clearly upset.

“Cut!” the director yelled, trying to defuse the situation. You hurried over to him, placing a hand on his chest to calm him down.

“Listen, babe, take a breather, okay? We have to do this scene. It’s just acting,” you whispered, trying to soothe his frustration. You could feel Nicholas' eyes on you from across the set, jaw clenched in irritation. He hated seeing Cody upset, especially when it came to you which was very common.

“I don’t like it,” Cody muttered, his voice low. “The way he looks at you, the way you two are-”

“Go take a walk through the city, clear your head," you interrupted softly, trying to stay professional even though the tension was real. “It’s part of the job, okay? We’re gonna take a break.”

He hesitated, his eyes darting between you and Nicholas. But eventually, after a few tense moments, he gave in and turned to leave, though not without a frustrated huff. The moment he was out of earshot, you sighed, running a hand through your braids.

Nicholas approached you, his eyes dark with a mix of desire and irritation. “You okay?” he asked, though his gaze flickered toward where Cody had disappeared.

You nodded, but inside, the emotions were swirling. You were cheating on your boyfriend in the show, but the real betrayal lingered in the air, just beneath the surface.

In the next scene, the tension was still hanging in the air, and the director decided it was best to take a break. “Alright, we’re gonna pause here,” he announced. “Everyone take ten, grab some snacks, get some air. We’ll continue filming once we’re all settled again.”

You nodded, eager for a moment to escape the tension between your boyfriend and Nicholas on set. Heading back to your trailer, you sank onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling while sipping on coffee. Your mind raced, replaying the scene that had just unfolded. You had been thinking about leaving Cody for a while now, but his overbearing presence made it hard. You feared what he might do if you walked away. And then, of course, there was the media, always watching.

As you lay there, lost in thought, a knock sounded at your door. You assumed it was Cody, needing to cool off after his earlier outburst. Without even looking, you called out, “Cody, just take a walk. You need to cool off.”

The door opened, but instead of Cody’s familiar presence, it was Nicholas who stepped in. You sat up on the bed, surprised. “Oh, Hey,” you muttered, sitting up straighter as he walked towards you.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice low and concerned. He studied your face closely, his eyes filled with genuine care. You tried to give a nonchalant smile, nodding.

“I’m fine,” you lied, though it was obvious you weren’t. Nicholas’ gaze flickered from your brown eyes down to your lips, then back up again. He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until there was barely any distance at all.

You both were inching toward each other, your breath mingling as the attraction that had been building between you two, both on and off screen, reached its breaking point for the hundredth time. Before you could think, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and tender at first, but then his hands moved up to cup your breasts, sending sparks through you.

You pulled away, breathless, your heart pounding. “What if Cody comes back? What if he sees us?” you whispered, half in fear, half in excitement.

Nicholas, with a wicked grin, leaned in closer, his voice a deep rasp. “Let him see. Let him see me make you feel good, in a way he never can.”

The room felt hot, the air thick with desire. Nicholas stood up and crossed the room to lock the door. The click of the lock made your pulse race. Then, without hesitation, he took off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and defined abs. He looked absolutely irresistible, his body chiseled and perfect.

You couldn’t stop staring, practically drooling at how unbelievably hot he was. And as he stood there, looking down at you with smoldering eyes, you realized just how powerless you were to resist him any longer.

The tension in the trailer was thick, the heat between you and Nicholas undeniable. You wanted more of him, but the looming threat of Cody returning, or the director calling everyone back to set, weighed on your mind. Despite that, your body ached for his touch, and you couldn’t resist as he sat beside you, his lips crashing back onto yours.

The kiss deepened, your moans of his name slipping past your lips as he whispered against your skin, “I love when you moan my name.” His eyes darkened with desire as he added, “I hope that whenever Cody fucks you, you’re thinking of me.”

Your breath hitched as his mouth trailed lower, his hands already tugging at the low-cut top you wore. His lips found your breasts, his mouth warm as he sucked on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you. “Nicholas,” you moaned, trying to stop him before he left any visible marks. “No hickeys, please-”

But he didn’t listen. He left two dark hickeys on your breasts, smirking as he pulled away to admire his work. “I hope when he takes off your clothes, he sees these,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “He’ll know you belong to someone else. To me.”

You shivered as his hands trailed down to your skirt, slipping underneath to find your lacy panties. His fingers rubbed you through the thin fabric, and you were already soaked. A soft moan escaped your lips as your hips lifted into his touch, begging for more.

“Does this turn you on?” Nicholas asked, slipping a finger past your panties and into your heat, teasing you. “Cheating on that little boy?” He held your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him as he asked again. “Do I turn you on?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip before whispering, “Yes Daddy, you do.”

He grinned, sliding another finger inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow, agonizing circles. You gasped, arching your back off the bed as the pleasure built inside you. “Such a good girl,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you deeply to muffle your moans. His lips moved to your neck, placing soft kisses there as he praised you. “You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so wet, soaking my hand.”

Your breath came in ragged pants, your body trembling as the pleasure became overwhelming. He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a smirk. Then he leaned down and kissed you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

He didn’t stop there. His fingers returned to your heat, sliding in and out as his mouth found your breasts again, sucking and teasing your sensitive skin. His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

It wasn’t long before your body gave in. You came hard around his fingers, your moans muffled by his lips as he kissed you through it. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with pride. “Such a good girl for Daddy, coming on my fingers like that. That’s my girl.”

He kept fingering you gently, easing you down from your high, until you were breathless and shaking beneath him.

Without a word, you slid down the bed, pulling at Nicholas’s pants with urgency. His eyes had been locked on you, heavy with lust, and when you finally freed his hard cock, you were mesmerized by how perfect it looked, thick, long and pretty with a pink tip. You wasted no time, taking him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him as a deep moan escaped his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as you worked your tongue along his shaft. “You’re such a good girl, feels so good.”

You started teasing him, your mouth moving slowly, hands caressing his balls, but the teasing hadn’t lasted long. Nicholas grabbed your braids, gently tugging your head forward. “Suck my cock,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “No teasing.”

You obeyed, taking him deeper, your mouth moving faster as you pleased him just the way he liked. His hands guided your movements, and his moans filled the air, telling you how perfect you were, how no one could ever make him feel like this. “You’re too good for him,” he said through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “You belong to me, no matter who you’re with.”

The words sent a shiver through you, and you moaned around him, sending vibrations along his length. He gasped, tightening his grip on your hair. “Does he know you call me when he sleeps? Does he know where your heart lies?”

You couldn’t respond, your mouth full of him, but the moans you let out told him everything. You took him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, and he cursed under his breath, his abs tightening.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

You nodded eagerly, quickening your pace, and your hands massaged his balls as you took him as deep as you could. It only took a few more strokes before his hips jerked, and with a groan, he spilled into your mouth. His head fell back, and he moaned, “Such a good girl, my good girl. You did so good for me. You sucked my cock so well.”

You swallowed everything, licking him clean before pulling away, looking up at him as he watched you with hooded eyes.

Nicholas pulled you up from the bed, guiding you into his arms as your lips met in a soft kiss. His touch was gentle now, and as you nestled against his chest, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His hand found its way to your hair, stroking it soothingly while you relaxed in his embrace.

“I don’t want to do this forever,” you murmured softly, your voice tinged with the weight of your emotions. The tension of sneaking around and the complications with Cody weighed heavily on your mind.

Nicholas held you tighter, understanding the unspoken struggle. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

Before either of you could say more, there was a sharp knock on the trailer door. “Filming’s starting again in five!” the director called from outside.

You sighed, pulling yourself from the warmth of Nicholas’s embrace. “I guess it’s time,” you said with a small, reluctant smile.

You quickly washed your mouth in the small sink, your mind already shifting back to the scene you had to film. Nicholas lingered for a moment, waiting for you to finish before stepping to the side to give you space. He couldn’t come out with you immediately, it would look suspicious, so he stayed behind, allowing you to exit first.

When you stepped back on set, Cody was already there, his eyes burning as he watched you. He hadn’t said anything yet, but you could feel the tension radiating from him, as though he suspected something. Nicholas emerged a minute later, casually strolling back to his mark, though you could see the edge in his expression as his gaze briefly flickered over to your boyfriend.

It was time to get back into character, but the lines between fiction and reality were blurring more than ever. Cody’s stare bore into you as if daring you to give something away, while Nicholas stood close, his jaw clenched, waiting for the scene to unfold.

The director called out, “Action!” and the scene picked up exactly where they left off. Nicholas, fully in character, glared at you with fiery intensity as he delivered his line, “I want you. Fuck your boyfriend.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed you, pulling you into a kiss that was far more heated than the script required. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your waist and chest, his presence dominating the moment. The kiss deepened, and as he moved you onto the bed, it felt as though the lines between acting and reality blurred. He seemed to glance over toward Cody, who was watching from behind the camera, but it was hard to tell if it was intentional or not.

“Cut!” the director shouted, stepping forward with a smile. “That was flawless, great job you two.”

Nicholas's lips were still hovering over yours, your breaths mingling as you both panted from the intensity of the scene. His hands stayed on your body just a little longer than necessary, and Cody’s eyes burned with suspicion from across the set. It was as though he could feel something was off, but he said nothing.

Later, the day’s filming wrapped, and everyone was heading back to the hotel. You, Nicholas, and Cody were all staying in the same hotel, which only added to the tension. In your shared room with your boyfriend, his agitation was evident. He was pacing, his expression dark and frustrated.

“What was that today?” he demanded, his tone sharp. “The way you two were all over each other. It didn’t look like acting.”

You sighed, trying to remain calm. “It was nothing, Cody. We were just doing the scene, it’s literally just acting. I don’t know what you’re talking about”

He wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to you, scrutinizing every word that left your lips. “You sure about that?” he asked. “Because it didn’t look like nothing from where I was standing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you stepped away from him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m not about to argue with you over my job. You chose to be there.”

Cody’s face softened as he realized he was pushing too hard. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to approach you again. “I just, I don’t know. I didn’t mean to make it a thing.”

But you were done with the conversation. “I don’t want to hear it, Cody.” The words were final, your back turned to him as you tried to distance yourself from the situation. Frustrated, his voice snapped at you, but then he stopped himself, muttering another apology. He moved closer, pressing his lips to your neck in a gesture meant to calm the tension. But as his lips touched your skin, you found yourself closing your eyes, not thinking of him, but of Nicholas, the way his hands had held you, the way his lips had lingered on your neck during filming and outside of it.

Cody’s hands slid down, trying to pull at your clothes, his fingers tugging at the hem of your top, but you stopped him before he could pull it off. The memory of the hickeys Nicholas had left on your chest flashed in your mind.

“I- I don’t want to have sex tonight,” you said abruptly, pulling away from his touch.

His frustration was immediate. He huffed and stormed toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. You could hear the water running. He couldn’t understand why things had suddenly shifted, why the desire had waned on your end. But deep down, you knew.

You knew you’d much rather Nicholas be the one to kiss your neck, pull down your top and take you right then and there. You were aching for him, dripping with arousal. You were determined to get a piece of him later that night when your boyfriend was asleep or hopefully out getting drunk.

As the night wore on, you waited for Cody to finish in the bathroom. You laid in bed, pretending to sleep, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he finally crawled in beside you, exhausted and oblivious. Once you were sure he was deeply asleep, you carefully slid out of bed. To test, you flicked your finger against his forehead, smiling slightly when he didn’t stir.

Moving quietly, you slipped into the bathroom and began your nightly routine, washing your face and applying your skincare and makeup. The rush of anticipation built with every step. You picked up the red lingerie, skimpy and barely there, hugging you in all the right places, and slid it on, admiring how it clung to your body in the mirror. Then, you wrapped yourself in a trench coat, keeping the surprise hidden.

With one last glance at your boyfriend, who remained fast asleep, you grabbed your phone and texted Nicholas. “Is your door open?”

His reply came quickly. “It’s open, princess.”

Your heart raced as you made your way down the hall, the soft click of your heels barely audible. Reaching Nicholas’ room, you opened the door slightly, peeking in before stepping inside. Nicholas was standing there, eyes darkening with hunger the moment he saw you in the trench coat. He crossed the room, meeting you at the door, gaze fixed on you.

Without saying a word, you undid the knot of your trench coat and let it fall to the floor. The red lingerie you wore underneath left nothing to the imagination. His breath caught as he took in the sight of you. “You look so sexy for Daddy,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

Before you could respond, Nicholas pressed you against the door, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands found your breasts. You moaned softly, hands tangling in his hair, feeling the intensity of his need. He squeezed your breasts, murmuring, “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy," you breathed, arching into him, “I’m all yours.”

His smirk deepened, his lips claiming yours as he pulled you even closer, his hands exploring every inch of you.

He lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him, grinding against the hardness pressing into you. His hands gripped your thighs as he carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before pulling his shirt over his head. You watched, breathless, as he slid his boxers off, his thick cock already hard and leaking, the tip glistening with precum.

Hovering over you, he began rubbing himself along your soaked entrance, teasing, dragging his length up and down your slick folds. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice husky as his eyes took in the sight of you beneath him.

“Just fuck me, Daddy,” you begged, voice desperate and needy.

Nicholas smiled, a dark gleam in his eyes as he reached for the straps of your lingerie and slowly pulled it off, baring your body to him completely. He kissed down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake until his mouth found your pussy. His tongue flicked against your clit, and you moaned loudly, gripping the sheets as pleasure rolled through you. He devoured you, lapping at your wetness, the sensations building and building until you were on the edge, so close to coming.

But just as you were about to let go, he pulled away, leaving you panting and needy. “I want you to come around me,” he said, his voice filled with desire. He reached for a condom from the nightstand.

“No condom this time,” you interrupted, breathless but firm. “I want to feel all of you. I want you to cum inside me.”

Nicholas’ eyes flashed with something primal, his lips curling into a smirk. He tossed the condom aside and positioned himself between your legs, rubbing his cock against your entrance, teasing you again. “You sure?” he asked, voice low and commanding.

“I’m ready,” you whispered, nodding, “I want it all.”

With a groan of satisfaction, he pressed his thick cock inside you, filling you inch by inch. You gasped as he stretched you, the feeling of him raw inside you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. Nicholas began to thrust, slow and deep at first, driving you both wild.

As the heat between you intensified, you felt an electric thrill run through your body, urging you to crave more of him. “Daddy,” you breathed, your voice a sultry whisper, “I want more.”

With that invitation, he increased the pace, thrusting harder and deeper. The headboard creaked under the pressure, the whole floor probably heard, your nails dug into his back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You were lost in the rhythm, your breath quickening, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly for a moment, pulling him closer before releasing them, spreading wider to accommodate him. The shift allowed him to plunge deeper, each stroke igniting a raw, primal desire within you. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and you met his movements with your own, pushing back against him as he filled you completely.

“Just like that daddy,” you urged, your voice thick with passion.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts hard and relentless, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pulled back slightly, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His voice was a low as he murmured against your mouth, “You’re all mine. You belong to Daddy now, you always have.”

A shiver of excitement raced through you, and he continued, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you said, the words flowing from your lips as if they were the only truth that mattered.

“Whose pussy is this?” he asked, his tone commanding, eyes locked onto yours.

“Yours, Daddy. It’s all yours,” you replied, the thrill of submission making your heart race.

“Good girl,” he said, a satisfied smirk across his lips. “That’s my good girl.”

With renewed intensity, he rolled his hips beautifully against yours, the connection between you both electric. “I want you to cum all over my dick, raw, for the first time,” he urged, his voice thick with desire.

The feeling of him pushing deeper ignited a fire within you, building to a peak you couldn't hold back. With a gasp, your body responded to his words, pleasure washing over you in waves as you squirted, soaking him completely.

Nicholas groaned in response, his grip on you tightening as he felt the warmth of your release.

“That’s so hot baby, that turned you on huh,” he said, now chasing his own orgasm as your body lay shaking underneath him.

“Y-yes daddy,” you sobbed and he grinned, his pretty white teeth glistening.

“You soaked me baby, squirting on me like that, being a cheating slut turns you on?” His pace never let up but this time, he reached between your bodies and began rubbing your clit sending a pleasure you almost couldn’t take rushing through your writhing body.

A scream left your lips as you creamed and squirted again all over his cock, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fucking hell baby,” he moaned and you felt his hot cum spurt inside of you. He continued thrusting gently, the pace almost loving as he allowed your grip to milk him of every drop.

Now a panting mess, he fell beside you and turned to face you. Your leg was draped across his heaving body and you stared at his beautiful disbelieved figure as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You’re going to be the death of me baby.”

[propertyofwicked]

STARE - LN

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - smut! MDNI!! unprotected, praising, sorta soft!dom, co-workers to lovers??? not proof read

masterlist the playlist

the energy of the mclaren garage was palpable, with engineers and mechanics scurrying around, ensuring everything was perfect for race day. y/n had been working with mclaren for a couple of years now, her role integral to the smooth running of race weekends. but today, something was different.

in honouring the master of monaco, ayrton senna, the two drivers had been given race suits that showed tribute. yellow and green suits that screamed heritage, elegance, and - in y/n’s opinion - undeniable charisma. both drivers looked good, they always did, but every time y/n caught a glimpse of lando, time seemed to slow. he looked every bit the part, embodying the spirit of senna effortlessly.

she couldn’t help but stare, her eyes seemingly glued to his form as he interacted with the team, each glance lingering a little too long. maybe he caught her a few times, heat rising her cheeks every time she quickly averted her eyes. maybe he hadn’t even noticed her, though had she not been so eager to hide her face, she would’ve seen the way he smirked to himself.

lando felt smug.

the race was typical for monaco, aside from the first-lap crash. oscar finishing P2 was significant for the team and for him, marking his best finish of the season so far. after the chequered flag waved and the celebrations began, y/n tried to busy herself with post-race duties, wrapping up some paperwork in hospitality whilst the rest of the team fulfilled media duties and packing away equipment.

or at least she tried. the room seemed to be filled with tv screens, all displaying lando’s post race interviews, hand on his hip, sweaty curls and a boyish grin. y/n was distracted, trying to avoid looking at the screens for too long, but she couldn’t help but let her mind wander at the sight of his black fireproofs clinging tightly to his frame - she was just a girl, after all.

“so,” lando began, smirking as his eyes sparkled with mischief, “you think i look good in the senna suit, huh?”

her heart skipped a beat, and her whole body jumped, not expecting lando to be stood directly behind her, his hands resting on the back of her chair.

“what? no! i-i mean, yes, but –” she stammered, “paperwork,” she added, unable to form any sort of coherent sentence. he chuckled teasingly, though his smirk grew more smug as he noticed her cheeks going red and her hand shooting up to play with her necklace.

“i saw you looking at me. a lot. couldn’t help but notice.”

“i wasn’t – i mean, i was just –” y/n stuttered, trying to regain some composure as he leant down, using the chair to support him as his head dropped to rest closer to hers. she refused to make eye contact.

“it’s okay, you know. i’m flattered,” he muttered, glancing around to ensure no one was in earshot before continuing, “but if you keep looking at me like that, i might start to think you’re more interested in what’s under the suit.”

“lando, i...” she choked out, finally turning her head to face him. he was grinning, his mouth curling into that cocky, confident grin that she had seen too many times - but this time it was directed at her, and y/n was enthralled.

“how about we discuss this further in my driver’s room? less chance of interruptions,” lando told her, his tone leaving no room for an argument, though it wasn’t as if she was going to refuse. his eyes flicked around the room once more, before grabbing her wrist to tug her along behind him. once inside the room, he closed the door behind them, the small space suddenly feeling much more intimate.

“so,” he said again, turning to face y/n, “you think i look good, huh?”

“yes, i do. very good,” she told him, suddenly deciding to put on a brave face. his smirk softened into a genuine smile.

“good to know. because i think you look pretty good too,” lando replied, stepping closer, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “especially in that skirt you wore a few weeks ago.”

she looked at him puzzled for a moment, she knew exactly which skirt he meant, but how did he? how had he noticed her enough to remember what she was wearing?

“how did yo-”

“at least when i stare at you, i don’t make it obvious angel,” lando grinned, before dropping his head to press a kiss to her lips quickly, almost hesitantly at first. she kissed him back quickly, her arms wrapping around his neck as his hand moved to cup her jaw, the other settling on her waist. his hand pushed her head back, allowing him better access as he deepened the kiss, all whilst moving the two of them towards the sofa.

“it wasn’t that obvious,” she retorted in defence, pulling away from his lips quickly to catch her breath.

“it was,” lando replied, shifting the two of them so that he fell comfortably on the sofa, her landing on his lap, “even oscar noticed.”

“shut up?” she replied, tucking her face into his neck to hide her embarrassment, but trailing kisses down his skin.

“make me?” he replied, matching her tone as she nipped at his skin lightly, “good thing i’ve finished media for the day, isn’t it?”

“sorry - i didn’t mean t-” she started, pulling back to look at the red mark forming on his neck, but found herself interrupted by the shake of his head.

“i’d say do it again, but we have…20 minutes until everyone needs to leave,” lando told her reassuringly, his fingers gripping at her hips as his fingers rubbed harsh circles into her skin. her grips rolled into his, as if instinctually, whilst he moved back to kiss her, harsher than before.

“as much as you like this suit, it’s about time i take it off - don’t you think?” he asked, watching as she nodded quickly, her hands moving to the zipper. her hips rose momentarily to help him strip down, a pile of his clothes forming on the floor next to the two until he was left in just his boxers, her in equally as little clothing.

“lace?” lando asked, smiling up at her, his fingers trailing the hem of her underwear teasingly, “id ask if this was for me but there’s no way you could’ve seen this coming.”

“no, id say you were right,” she shrugged, her hand moving to grip his cock through the fabric, “i like to come prepared.”

“and ‘come you will,” he joked, which she couldn’t help but smile at despite the intimacy.

lando pushed a rugged finger past her panties, moving the fabric aside as two fingers slid through her folds, circling her clit a few times. he looked at her face, watching how she reacted to him. her mouth had opened slightly, already feeling pleasure from the anticipation, but it widened as the two fingers pushed into her, stretching her out around him. her hand was still working up and down his clothed length, thumb finding his tip as his precum leaked through the fabric of his boxers.

“did you say 20 minutes?” y/n suddenly asked him, her eyes widening at the realisation.

“i did,” he nodded, stuttering slightly as her hand pulled at his waistband.

“have we got time?”

“from the way you’re working yourself on my fingers, id say we have time to finish this, get dressed and be back at mine with 5 minutes to spare,” he exaggerated slightly, though continued twisting his fingers into her, engulfed in the way she rolled her hips into him as her walls tightened around him.

though lando didn’t give her time to get embarrassed about how quickly she was coming undone for him, before his fingers moved away from her. she whined slowly at the loss of contact, but lando ignored her, moving to take his fingers in his mouth, tasting her on his tongue.

“so good,” he muttered. he grabbed her face harshly, kissing her again so that y/n could taste herself, his hips lifting from the sofa to free himself completely. her hand resumed it’s ministrations, thumb resuming a circling motion on his tip. lando found himself distracted the moment her fingers dragged precum down his cock, following the patterns of veins that spread across his length.

“fuck,” he mumbled, the two of them trying to stay quiet as footsteps could be heard from outside his door, “need you now.”

y/n raised herself up on her knees quickly, lando’s hand on her waist guiding her towards him. his free hand gripped at the base of his cock, tracing it through her folds quickly and lining up with her entrance. the hand on her waist pushed her down slowly, helping to lower herself on him.

“big,” she whined, unable to form a full sentence, her head dropping to rest on lando’s shoulder as she sunk down further.

“thanks,” he laughed out, though the action made his body move causing y/n to slip, taking the rest of his length in all at once.

“fuck,” y/n mewled, nipping at the flesh of lando’s shoulder quickly to distract her from the stretch.

“you’re fine, you’re ok,” he reassured her, his voice soft despite him fighting the urge to thrust up into her.

she nodded into him quickly as her hips began to roll into him, feeling the way his length filled her. small grunts and incoherent mumbles from lando urged her to move more, so she raised her hips slowly before dropping back down over and over again until she settled on a good pace. lando’s fingers dug into her hip, barely guiding her movement whilst his fingers left bruises in his wake.

“wanna see you,” he told her, a hand pushing her shoulder back to look at her face. the new position awoke something in her, the angle sending her into overdrive as she used him to get herself off.

“and these…” lando added, moving to grip her breast in one hand, neck straining to take the other in his mouth.

“fuck, lan- fuck,” y/n uttered, feeling the way his tongue flicked at her nipple quickly before moving to nip and suck at the surrounding flesh. her chest was littered in red marks, sure to form into a constellation of bruises that would adorn her skin for weeks.

“taking me so good baby,” he told her, feeling the slowing of her pace with her legs growing tired, “you need me to help?”

she looked at him intently, before nodding. lando’s eyelids were half closed, but she could still see the way his pupils were blown with lust - he groaned deeply as she came to a stop, returning to rolling her hips into him instead.

“need to hear you say it,” lando insisted, his fingers trailing circular patterns up her thighs before settling on her clit. he felt her tense around him, the rolling of her hips coating his length in her slick as shoots of icy pleasure seemed to move directly from his fingertips to her brain.

“please, lando.”

“please what? what do you need, baby?” he teased, his own hips beginning to slowly jut up into her.

“need you t-to take over,” y/n stammered, gripping at lando’s shoulders tightly, “please.”

as much as he wanted to hear her beg, the way she had whimpered the word please was enough for him to pull her into a tight embrace, her legs anchoring around his back before he started thrusting himself into her at a brutal pace. oh how she prayed no one was stood nearby at this very moment, as all they would hear was the distant sound of skin slapping against each other, slightly muffled by the two of them panting.

“so responsive,” lando praised her, slowing slightly to sneak a hand between the two of them, fingers finding her clit once more, “fit me so well. like you were made f’me,” he grunted.

y/n’s mind had gone blank as lando mindlessly praised her, he himself unable to think about anything else.

“you gonna cum f’me?” he cooed, feeling the way she began to claw at his back, raking her nails into his skin and she grinded her hips into him, matching his pace.

“mhm,” she muttered out, her lips returning to his in a heat kiss - the type of kiss that overall had too much tongue and too much teeth but fit the haste of the moment so perfectly.

“go on then,” he prompted, “show me how good i make you feel.”

y/n didn’t respond verbally, she couldn’t. no, instead she came hard and fast, letting lando grip at her hips to hold her down harshly so that his length stayed deep inside of her.

“fuck me,” she panted out, though tried to keep the rolling motions of her hips to bring lando to his own finish.

“so good to me,” he grunted, taking in the sight in front of him, “you feel so good,” he added, barely able to utter another word before he was pulling her off him, ropes of cum shooting onto his stomach as she hovered over him.

“you didn’t have to do that,” she told him after a few moments of silence with lando catching his breath, “im on the pill anyway.”

“i didn’t think,” he told her, laughing lightly as she clambered off his lap, searching for her clothes, “now i know for next time.”

“next time?”

“yes, next time,” he doubled down, “trust me, ive wanted this for months. and now i’ve had you, i don’t think i want anyone else.”

heat rose to her cheeks again - she’d hoped this wasn’t a one time thing, but she was now blushing at the thought of it being a regular occurrence.

“tonight?” she asked him, cautiously.

“eager?” he teased.

“sorry i-” y/n started to apologise, stuttering slightly in her nervousness.

“y/n - tonight, tomorrow night, next week. my schedule is clear, for you.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Fishy Business

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: you are Lando Norris' girlfriend, determined to get him to try fish despite his stubborn refusal

______________________________________________________________

Lando Norris, your boyfriend and an undeniable force on the Formula 1 circuit, was also the most stubborn eater you’d ever encountered. For all his daring maneuvers on the track, he approached food with the caution of someone facing a life-threatening situation. His diet was the carefully curated mix of nutrients and proteins that a professional athlete needed to stay in peak condition, but there was one thing you couldn’t get him to eat: fish.

It wasn’t that he was allergic or that he’d had a bad experience with it in the past—Lando simply detested the idea of eating fish. The mere mention of it had him crinkling his nose in distaste. You’d tried multiple times to introduce it into his meals, always to be met with that same stubborn resistance. It was the one challenge he refused to take on, no matter how much you teased or coaxed him.

But tonight, you were determined to change that.

You had carefully planned the meal, choosing a recipe that would be impossible for anyone, even Lando, to resist. The centerpiece was a perfectly seared salmon fillet, seasoned with lemon, garlic, and herbs—flavors you knew he loved in other dishes. You’d paired it with his favorite roasted vegetables and a light, refreshing salad, hoping that the overall appeal of the meal might disguise the fact that the main course was, in fact, fish.

As you set the table, the delicious aroma filled the kitchen, making your mouth water. You knew Lando would be home soon, fresh from a day at the simulator, and you were eager to see how he’d react. Would he recognize the scent immediately, or would he only realize what was on his plate once he sat down?

The door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of Lando’s keys hitting the table in the hallway. He called out for you, his voice light and filled with the warmth that never failed to make your heart flutter.

“Hey, love, where are you?”

“In the kitchen!” you replied, trying to keep your voice casual, as if you weren’t plotting to get him to finally eat something he’d spent his whole life avoiding.

Lando appeared in the doorway, still in his workout gear, looking adorably disheveled with a few strands of hair falling into his eyes. He grinned when he saw you, walking over to wrap his arms around your waist and press a kiss to your forehead.

“Something smells amazing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of hunger and affection.

You turned in his arms to face him, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. “I made dinner. I think you’re going to love it.”

He gave you a skeptical look, his nose twitching slightly as he sniffed the air again. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you sit down and find out?” you teased, gently pushing him toward the dining table.

Lando raised an eyebrow but complied, taking his seat and looking at the beautifully arranged plate in front of him. The roasted vegetables and salad caught his attention first, but then his gaze landed on the salmon, and you saw the exact moment he realized what it was.

“Is this… fish?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and mild horror.

You nodded, doing your best to keep your expression innocent. “It’s salmon. It’s really good for you, Lando. High in protein, rich in omega-3s—all the stuff you need to stay fit and healthy.”

He looked at you like you’d just suggested he eat a plate of raw liver. “You know I don’t eat fish,” he said, pushing the plate slightly away as if it might bite him.

You placed a hand on his, your touch gentle and persuasive. “You’ve never even tried it, babe. How do you know you don’t like it?”

“I just… know,” he replied, his voice lacking the usual confidence he had when making decisions. “The smell, the texture… it’s just not for me.”

You tilted your head, giving him a look that you knew he had a hard time resisting. “But you trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Lando said immediately, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to figure out where this was going.

“Then trust me when I say you’ll like this,” you said, your voice dropping to a soft, almost seductive tone. “Just one bite. For me?”

He hesitated, clearly torn between his aversion to fish and his desire to please you. You could see the internal battle playing out on his face, and you decided it was time to up the ante. Slowly, you stood up and walked around the table, stopping behind him. You leaned down, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whispered, “If you try it, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Lando shivered under your touch, his breath hitching slightly. You could feel the tension in his shoulders as he considered your offer. He was being stubborn, as usual, but you knew you were close to winning him over.

With a dramatic sigh, he finally picked up the fork, speared a small piece of the salmon, and lifted it to his mouth. You watched as he hesitated one last time before taking the bite, his eyes closing as if bracing himself for the worst.

He chewed slowly, his expression shifting from one of grim determination to mild surprise. After a moment, he swallowed and set the fork down, looking up at you with a mix of resignation and amusement.

“It’s… not as bad as I thought,” he admitted reluctantly, his voice laced with a hint of defeat.

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He chuckled, leaning back into your embrace. “Okay, you win. But I’m still not eating another bite.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, your lips grazing his earlobe again. “Just one more bite? For me?”

Lando sighed, but you could tell he was starting to relent. “You really don’t play fair, do you?”

“Never,” you whispered, your voice low and suggestive. “But you like it when I don’t.”

His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you around to sit on his lap. You let out a soft laugh as you straddled him, your hands resting on his chest as you gazed down at him. “I knew you’d be stubborn about this,” you said, your voice teasing.

“I’m not stubborn,” he replied, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. “I just know what I like.”

“And you like me, right?” you asked, leaning in so your lips were just inches from his.

“More than anything,” Lando murmured, his eyes darkening with desire as he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a slow, heated kiss.

You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of warmth and sweetness that made your head spin. Lando’s hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer as the kiss grew more passionate, more demanding.

When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to regain some semblance of control. But the hunger in Lando’s eyes told you that any attempt at restraint was futile.

“I tried the fish,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Now, about that reward…”

You grinned, trailing your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his breath hitched under your touch. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you replied, your voice filled with promise. “But first, you have to finish your dinner.”

Lando groaned, dropping his head back against the chair in exasperation. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, your tone playful but firm. “But just think about how good the reward will be when you do.”

He sighed dramatically but picked up the fork again, spearing another small piece of salmon and bringing it to his mouth. You watched with satisfaction as he chewed and swallowed, his expression less pained than before.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time softer, more lingering.

Lando hummed against your lips, his free hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m only doing this for you,” he murmured between kisses. “You know that, right?”

You smiled, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I know. And that’s why I love you.”

His expression softened at your words, a warm, adoring smile spreading across his face. “I love you too,”

[saintobio]

⊹★⋆ two wheels and a hot guy.

pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader tags. 1k wc, biker boy x biker girl au, non-sorcerer au, crack, fluff, dirty jokes (?), satoru rides an s1k, biker!sukuna mentions, same au as my other fic. sparked by a random idea bcos why haven't we thought abt biker!gojo honestly? he would be so funny on tiktok if he was a biker boy lmao

You’ve all heard about Biker!Sukuna. That famous biker boy on biketok who has tattoos and rides a blacked out Yamaha R1. 

But have you heard about Biker!Gojou? 

Well… For starters, Satoru Gojou wasn’t a seasoned biker. 

In fact, he was more of a poser than anything, but you’d never catch him admitting that. His prized BMW S1000RR, the crown jewel of superbikes, was more about image than skill. The sleek, aggressive lines of the machine, combined with the prestige of the BMW logo, were all he needed to keep up appearances on TikTok. And he learned that appearances were everything, especially when Sukuna, with his obnoxious face tattoos and natural charisma, hogged the limelight (especially from all the girls!) with every post, even with a girlfriend already in tow. The sheer audacity of that scum was enough to drive Satoru up the wall. Fine, he had to admit. He was jealous of Sukuna’s popularity and the fact that he snatched a cute booktok girlfriend as his backpack. 

Suguru, his best friend and fellow biker, didn’t let him forget it either. As they stood by their bikes outside Barnes & Noble to spot booktok girls, Suguru glanced at Satoru’s liter bike and smirked. 

“Pretentious motherfucker,” he muttered, slinging a leg over his Yamaha MT-10, the less flashy but undeniably badass naked bike. Unlike Gojou, Suguru didn’t care about clout. The MT-10 was all about raw power and agility, the kind of bike a real rider appreciated. “You only got that thing because it’s a BMW. You gonna actually ride it for real one of these days?”

“Shut up.” Satoru rolled his eyes, adjusting his white Alpinestars riding gloves while holding his phone up to go live on TikTok. Starting with a 1000cc as a beginner bike wasn’t a very wise choice, but still... “People love the S1K, you know that.”

And let me tell you about Satoru’s favorite time of the day (or night). It was whenever he would go live, and the comments would pour in as soon as his stream started. That was when he could lavish in his social media presence the most.

user19463: Bro, when are you gonna show us some actual riding content?

anon875biker: All that thirst trapping. Bet you don’t even take that thing out of the garage. 

harleysRbetter: U punks R ruining the riding community! 

Gojou grinned at the screen, winking at both his followers and haters. “Alright, boomers, calm down. I’ll post some riding content soon. Don’t cry too much before then, yeah?”

r1.skn: Sir, can you do wheelies? 

Suguru found that comment hilarious, recognizing the username and knowing exactly who it belonged to—Sukuna. But Satoru’s competitive nature kicked in instantly while he continued to scroll through the comments. “Yeah, I can do wheelies. Ignore Sukuna, guys. Focus on me!”

msbikerluvr: Still looking for a backpack, Gojou? Lmao.

“About the backpack… you know, I’m just waiting for the right one. Applications are still open—” He was about to launch into another witty retort when a sound cut through the chatter of his stream—it was a deep, throaty rev that sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. Satoru’s head immediately whipped to the direction of the sound, just in time to see a flash of race blue zipping down the street.

There you were, riding a Yamaha R7, your black Dainese jacket hugging your curves as you leaned into the wind. The way you handled the bike, so smooth and confident, it was as if the motorcycle was an extension of you. 

“Damn, she’s hot.” Without a second thought, Satoru ended the live stream abruptly, “Gotta go, guys. Someone just stole my heart,” and pocketed his phone.

“Did you seriously just—” Suguru started, but Satoru was already mounting his S1000RR.

“Catch you later, Suguru!” he called, gunning the engine without even looking at his best friend. Soon enough, the 1000cc bike roared to life when he shifted into first gear, and he sped off in pursuit of the blue R7.

He caught sight of you at the next red light, the signal holding you in place just long enough for him to catch up. Thank God there was no sign of a biker boyfriend around when he pulled up alongside you, visor down, adrenaline still kicking him alive. He tried to get your attention by revving his S1K, and you turned your head slightly, barely acknowledging him as you pulled your visor up and revealed the prettiest eyes Gojou had ever seen. 

Satoru flipped up his visor too, then flashed his most charming grin. “Hey there,” he said, trying to keep his voice smooth and casual. Like it was a normal encounter. “You’re fast. I like that.”

You may have rolled your eyes, but he could tell you were smirking underneath the balaclava as you talked through the Cardo intercom linked to your AGV K1s. “And you’re obnoxious. I don’t like that.”

Oooh, she’s spicy. He laughed at the silly thought in his head, unbothered by your dismissal. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to get to know the girl who stole my heart in the middle of a live stream.”

“Your heart, huh?” you teased, revving her engine just slightly. “Sounds like you’re more interested in what’s under my jacket.”

“Now that’s a baseless accusation,” he retorted, leaning in slightly. “I don’t do anything on the first night, you know. I usually wait until the second, after a nice dinner. I’m a gentleman like that.”

His remark made you snort, shaking your head at his boldness. “You’re a ridiculous guy.”

“But I’m also serious,” he added, his voice sincere despite the playful glint in his eyes. “Let me take you out, just dinner. No strings, no funny business—unless you’re into that kind of thing. I don’t mind that, either.”

Your laughter sounded like a sweet melody to his ears. “You’ve got guts, mister. I’ll give you that.” Has anyone told you how hot you looked while leaning into your bike? Damn. Satoru was distracted, checking you out for a moment until you spoke again, “Fine. One dinner. But don’t think you’re getting into my pants just because you ride a fancy bike.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, grinning from ear to ear.

The light turned green, and without another word, you revved your engine and took off with Satoru right on your tail. The chase was on, but this time, it wasn’t just about the thrill of the ride. 

For Satoru Gojou, it was about something far more exhilarating—winning the attention of the most intriguing biker girl he’d ever met. 

And perhaps, the biker boyfriend and backpack girlfriend content he’d been hoping to post on Tiktok may slightly change into a different direction than he expected. 

[barcaatthemoon]

all's fair || lucy bronze x reader ||

things get heated when lucy marks you at practice.

your chemistry with lucy was undeniable. off the pitch, the two of you were the 'it' couple of the sports world. on the pitch, you were every opponent's nightmare. lucy's passes to you couldn't miss, and the last thing you wanted to do was waste such a nice pass on a miss. it was rare that anybody ever had the two of you play against each other, but that wasn't because you were too good together.

all of your coaches had at one point seen how the love and passion between the two of you soured when pitted against one another. things always got heated. it was a back and forth that occasionally threatened to have the two of you injuring each other. all in all, things tended to get rough.

today was supposed to be a light practice. the heat had been getting to everybody a little bit, so the coaching staff was fine with allowing for a scrimmage before lunch and the film session. it was supposed to be a fairly easygoing scrimmage, but the team knew that wasn't going to happen when you and lucy were separated.

"alright girls, it's not going to be easy, but i think we have the win. push forward the best you can, and i'll take care of (y/n)," lucy said. she worked through the strategy with her team a couple of times before the kick-off. alexia immediately made the move to put you as a forward instead of in the midfield.

"make room in the backline, and remember to look before you make your passes. be careful with your challenges," alexia directed her last statement towards you. it was no secret that lucy had fallen victim to a dirty challenge or two from you. there was a tendency to play rougher with your wife than you did with anybody else.

the whistle blew, and both you and lucy acted as if it was a real game. alexia watched as you made space for yourself and the other girls, but you were never really open. lucy was on you constantly, not even looking at the other players. nobody was going to pass to you, which frustrated you a bit. it didn't matter if you fell back or moved towards the middle, lucy was on you like white on rice.

everybody except for lucy it seemed could see the way that you were getting angry. frustration threatened to boil over every single time you glanced over to see your wife standing against you. her hands burned with each brush against your skin that they made. it was beginning to really get on your nerves, eventually spilling over whenever she knocked into you during a corner.

"watch the fuck out!" you shouted at her. lucy squared up to you, bumping her chest against yours to knock you back a bit. the whistle was blown, but that didn't stop you and lucy from getting at each other a bit. you were in each other's faces, but the team stayed out of it. everybody began to disperse, both you and lucy being pulled in opposite directions.

"that was a good match," ingrid complimented you. she wrapped her arm around your shoulders as she guided you towards the mess hall. the two of you sat down together, ingrid unsure of whether or not lucy would even try to sit down. everybody was a bit nervous as they watched the two of you. much to almost everybody's surprise, lucy sat herself right next to you.

"you okay?" lucy asked as she glanced over at you. she knew that there had to be a few bruises from how aggressively she had marked you.

"fine. did you get a pack for your knee?" you checked in. lucy nodded, shoving the little pack off of her tray. you grabbed the tape from lucy's pocket and taped the ice pack to her knee. "you can take it off after lunch."

"thank you." lucy leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple. the two of you fell into an easy conversation with your teammates, none of whom were brave enough to mention what had happened during the scrimmage game. to them, everybody seemed fine, so they left you to enjoy your lunch together and take notes on how you had improved over the course of the season during the film session.

[misojunnie]

FRIGHT NIGHT 𖣂

a collection of horror stories…

with halloween around the corner, everything in your life begins to change. nothing feels right. your coffee tastes bitter, you toss restlessly in bed, even the gentlest breeze feels like ice. it’s undeniable; things are changing.

general taglist: @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @theothernads @adoredbyjay @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee @surrik-i @jwonistic @laurradoesloveu @laylasbunbunny @tmtxtf @shixna606 @kumiwon @heeaxvhhoon

COVET 𖣂

yang jungwon & nishimura riki.

how far would you go for love?

your boyfriend jungwon has always been a kind soul. he refused to kill a spider, much less a human, but when a new, younger, attractive admirer enters your life, something in him changes. as jealousy begins to consume him, and the competition between the two boys ensues, you watch your life turn upside down.

taglist: open!

scare rating: 5/10

status: available

see the trailer.

TRUTH & JUSTICE 𖣂

jay park & lee heeseung.

those who sin, must repent.

brothers jay and heeseung had always been the sweethearts of the school. heeseung; devilishly handsome, the brawn of the operation. and jay; stoic but sweet tempered, the brains. there was something mysterious about them; it’s what generated the obsessive fans. you’d always wondered why they never took interest in the girls who hysterically chased them—but you’d soon find out.

taglist: open!

scare rating: 7/10

status: available

see the trailer.

KEROSENE 𖣂

there's a fine line between delusion and reality.

jake sim & park sunghoon.

jake sim was your boyfriend. park sunghoon was your best friend. neither knew about each other. you weren’t sure where your heart belonged, and you watch as your life begins to tear in half from the secrecy and guilt. but just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, an earth-shattering secret changes everything.

taglist: open!

scare rating: 5/10

status: available

see the trailer.

PAPER DOLL 𖣂

beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

kim sunoo & park sunghoon.

you had known sunoo since you were children. your best friend for as long as you could remember, you had always assumed that your relationship was strictly that of friends. but when you develop an intense crush on your classmate, you begin to notice sunoo’s behavior rapidly changing.

taglist: open!

scare rating: 6/10

status: unavailable

GUMI 𖣂

everyone has their secrets.

all.

gumi used to be a dreary town where nothing interesting happened. that all ended when a psychotic killer was set loose in a high school, leaving a classroom full of students wondering who to trust, and if they knew each other in the first place.

taglist: open!

scare rating: 8/10

status: unavailable

ALL EYES ON US 𖣂

trust no one. not even yourself.

all.

young and beautiful, your life has always been a whirlwind of popularity, parties, and lighthearted fun. but your perfect life begins to fracture when a relentless stalker comes out of the dark to haunt you, and as you find yourself running out of time, the lines between paranoia and reality start to blur.

taglist: open!

scare rating: 7/10

status: unavailable

a/n: hello all!! I’m dropping an enhypen october series (which will hopefully be completed hehe) in celebration of halloween! I love the scary season, so I’m veryyy excited to connect back to my horror roots ❤️ get excited!

[sparklingchim]

ego season; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 6.3k

rating: 18+

genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, brother's best friend, college!au

warnings: jungkook's a lil flirt <3, unprotected sex, shower sex, doggy, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), creampie 🤭, cum play/swallowing, they like almost get caught 🫣, sum head in the locker room, disgusting kisses, CHANYEOL CAMEO!!!, nipple play, spanks, a teeny tiny mark, cursing, dirty talk, praise, spit

summary: pov: you make ur secret fuck buddy jealous.

a/n: hi hi besties enjoy i love u m going sleepies now <3

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You like the illicit.

Which is why you’re in the shower with Jeon Jungkook.

The guy who is your brother’s best friend.

Starting college and being away from your overbearing parents has its perks – the freedom it has given you has swayed you straight into Jungkook’s arms.

Turns out that despite the beginning of your little secret feeling quite mutinous and thrilling, it soon became apparent that maintaining it hidden from your brother Taehyung is substantially ridiculous when you share an apartment with said brother.

It gets even more ridiculous when you consider that they see each other every day because they play for the same hockey team.

You admit, choosing Jungkook as a fuck buddy was an inconvenient choice in which you had not considered the intricate aspects that would make sneaking around hardly possible.

But

The two of you are undeniably compatible in bed.

Luckily, you found out a few months ago at a frat party when you both were completely wasted and out of your minds.

After that night, there was no going back.

Being in college can be overwhelming at first. Lots of choices and opportunities. But it’s a vast contrast from your previous life, and you’ve fully committed to this lifestyle.

All your life you’ve longed to be in charge if your own decisions. Now that you're in college, living in a swanky apartment near campus, you have a little more freedom.

When there are no parents around to keep an eye on you, you can – almost – do whatever you want.

College is fun.

And taking a shower with Jeon Jungkook is fun too.

You giggle when Jungkook snatches your shampoo bottle from you before you can reach for it.

“Lemme do it.” He squeezes a generous amount on his open palm and rubs the fluid between his hands.

“Jungkook,” you scold. “That’s way too much.” You ogle the ample amount of shampoo coating his hands. Your lips drag into a pout as you watch Jungkook’s excessively besmeared palms extend to your hair. But it promptly fades when he begins to massage your scalp.

“But I like how it feels. Gets really foamy and bubbly.” He has a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he watches the solution grow into a rich foam of frothy bubbles on your head.

“Using too much can dry out your hair,” you mumble. Concentrating is a little difficult with Jungkook’s way too experienced fingers working on your scalp. “It can remove the moisture.”

“Oh, really?” His eyebrow twitches for the briefest second, that’s how you know Jungkook is actually listening to you because judging by his expression, he’s trapped in his own thought bubble.

It’s actually something you adore about Jungkook – whenever he is occupied doing something, whatever it is, he’ll put so much care into it and work diligently. Sweet – admirable, actually. It’s a characteristic you want to achieve as well, but you’d have to tweak on your impatience at first.

“Really,” you confirm.

“And I thought you were just saying that because your shampoo is expensive.” He teases you with a bob of his covered finger on your nose.

“That too.”

You reach behind Jungkook to grab your brother’s weird three in one shampoo. You squirt some on your hand and put it back. On your tippy toes you start to shampoo his hair as well.

He has his mouth twisted in a cocky smirk when he says, “The way you opened the door for me earlier seemed a little...” Jungkook cocks his head and ponders for a fitting word.

When he doesn’t come up with one you suggest, “Desperate?”

“Hmm.” Jungkook’s nose scrunches as he’s in thoughts. “I wanted so say rushed, but sure. Desperate will do.”

Your eyes roll in playfulness. “You were dripping with sweat, Jungkook. Didn’t want any of it dirtying my apartment floor,” you reason.

You texted Jungkook a good morning message and good luck on today’s game. He instantly replied with a thank you and told you that he had just finished his morning jog through the campus park. And maybe you offered him to stop by at your place because conveniently you also wanted to take a shower... (You hate morning showers). Taehyung had left a couple minutes prior to visit the gym.

“That’s the only reason?” A challenging twinkle flashes across his eyes.

The tip of your tongue touches your upper lip as you try to hide your smile. “Wouldn’t know why else.”

Jungkook nods. He grabs the shower head and tips your head back by grabbing your cheek. Carefully, he washes the shampoo out of your hair.

Jungkook is cautious not to accidentally splash water on your face and gently runs his fingers through your wet hair to remove the excess shampoo. You taught him well.

When he’s done, he offers you the shower head and it’s your turn.

Standing on your toes while trying to wash the shampoo out of his hair is always a little battle.

Usually, Jungkook comes to meet you by lowering himself, but at the moment his mind wanders elsewhere.

You first feel his hand on the curve of your waist. It’s a soft grasp. A gentle squeeze of your flesh that transiently side-tracks you from your task.

“Jungkook.” You try to pull him out of his little bubbles he’s trapped in. There’s a thickness to your voice, undoubtedly from his wandering hand on your body.

“Mmmh?’ He doesn’t look you in the eyes. Solely fixed on your body as his fingers mould against the supple form of your tit. You’ve always reckoned him to be a tits man, but he denies it and says he loves your ass equally as much. Liar.

“Bend down a little so I can rinse off the shampoo,” you request. His lashes flutter as he averts his eyes to you. A tiny crease appears between his brows like he has actually forgotten where he is and what you two have been doing. “Believe me, you really don’t want remnants of shampoo lingering in your hair.” You cock your head, fruitlessly waiting for a reaction from his head empty and hands full with tits haze.

Suddenly, Jungkook does bend forward. But not in favour of you, but to satisfy his own selfish desire to suck on your boob.

“Oh!” you squeal, pressing the shower head against his back. “Jungkook,” you chide, but your voice turns into a soft whine at the end.

“Hmm?” His hum together with your nub between his lips twists something in your tummy. His tongue begins to swirl around it, and you have to force your eyes to stay open. Jungkook’s inked hand reaches down your lower back. His subtle touches leave a trail of shivers, until his pads brush over the slope of your ass. He squeezes your cheek, firm fingers digging into your skin.

A small gasp escapes your throat.

With a lewd pop he releases your nipple. A lopsided smirk appears on his face, conjuring the little dimple on his cheek.

Jungkook’s dimple. So banal but so endearing. It’s a pretty contribution to the soft contours of Jungkook’s features – except for the sharp outline of his jaw. That adds to his image of the college jock. You like to tease him with that name, and he loathes it, but the sex afterwards is always so good.

You feel his other hand sneak down, grabbing a handful of your ass. He closes the distance between you again, pressing languid kisses along your neck. Begrudgingly, your eyes fall closed.

“Is this what you wanted?” A whisper of his mellow voice coaxes your breath to stutter.

“Yeah.” It’s merely a murmur. The tender nudges against your skin with his mouth unfold spellbound clouds in your mind, looming over your rational thoughts. “But the...” The shampoo you want to remind him, but he starts to suck on your skin and no more comprehensible thoughts form in your head.

You raise the shower head to Jungkook’s hair and wash off the remaining bits of shampoo. You make sure not to let the water run down his face.

“But what?” he asks, planting a soft peck on the flesh below your collar bone where his teeth have just sunk in. You’re not trying to act like a brat – you just care for his hair.

“Nothing,” you utter between pouting lips. “But no marks,” you alert.

“Just a tiny one.” Jungkook kisses the spot again. “No one will see,” he persuades.

Presuming you won’t wear clothes with a deep cleavage. Jungkook just made sure you won’t.

You put the shower head back on its place on the wall beside you. You struggle to secure it in the holder when you feel Jungkook’s hand move from your ass to your tummy.

Usually, you’d coax him into allowing you to put conditioner in his hair, but you can only concentrate on his hand slowly trailing down your belly button. When he cups your pussy, your hands clasp his shoulders.

A tantalising grin pulls the corner of his lips up. “You want this?”

You nod, your teeth capturing your bottom lip.

“Use your big girl words.” Jungkook runs his pad over your folds, eliciting a shudder from you. “Talk to me.”

“Want you,” you plead. Your eyebrows knit the further Jungkook dips his middle finger in. “Been wanting this for so long.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Last night wasn’t enough?”

The mention of last night shoots arousal and need straight to your core. An exchange of innocent text messages led to a phone call containing dirty words and hushed moans.

“No.” You shake your head. “I need you feel you.”

A chuckle bubbles in his throat. “That’s my girl.”

He spreads your wetness with his finger. Your hand wanders down to Jungkook’s tatted arm, squeezing his biceps when he brushes past your clit. His finger dwells there, putting pressure on your swollen bud. Your hips impulsively start to rock, a shaky whimper rolls past your mouth.

“Always so needy.” He draws his hand back. A petulant whine from you echoes in the bathroom.

“Shh,” Jungkook hushes you. Glimmers of tease spark in his eyes. “Bend over for me, love.”

With a puff, you turn around, bend forward and catch yourself on the tiled wall. It’s cold on your palms, but you’ll endure this if it means that Jungkook will make you cum.

He hisses behind you. “So fucking pretty.” A hand travels over your ass to your spine and back. “The prettiest girl,” he rasps. You earn a smack on your cheek, the pain leaving your walls clenching around nothing.

You turn your head, catching him just as he aims a trickle of spit at your pussy. He rubs it over your folds. His inked fingers vanish between your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” you moan as his index finger slowly enters you. He reaches deep, curling his finger to graze your spot. “More.” He’s teasing you, rubbing over your sensitive area in slow strokes.

“What do we say?” he taunts, specks of mock painting his voice.

“Please,” you reply. “I need more, please.” You’re putty in his hands. The desire to be touched bigger than your general wayward behaviour.

“Good girl.” Jungkook adds another finger. It’s just two, but you feel so full. So good.

While his fingers pick up on the speed, you feel Jungkook’s kisses on your ass. He has you rolling your eyes at the way his pads curl against your sweet spot, the knot in the pit of your tummy tightening.

Jungkook bites down on your flesh, drawing a squeal out of you. Your head twists to him again. He’s on his knees, his cheek resting against the curve of your ass as he captivatingly watches his fingers move in and out of you. A faint smirk hangs on his lips.

He meets your half-lidded eyes. His smirk deepens. “Can take a third one?”

You know you can – he knows it too – but you’d rather have his cock inside you.

“I wan’ you.” It’s a sulky request, but Jungkook’s eyes soften.

“You think you’re ready for me?” He pushes his fingers deep, remaining there for a while. Your knees buckle.

“Yes,” you pant. “I’m always ready for you.”

Jungkook hums. Your eyes focus back on the white tiles, expecting Jungkook to move behind you to bury himself inside you. With a pounding heart you wait. A gasp springs from your chest when

Jungkook’s tongue is on your pussy. He retreats his fingers from your quivering hole, using both his palms to spread your cheeks open. His tongue dives between your folds, inciting breathless whimpers from you.

“Taste so good.” Jungkook muffles indistinctly between licks on your wetness.

The sloppy sounds of his tongue lapping on your pussy fill your ears. Your throat constricts, the pleasure sends you spiralling, not permitting you make another noise.

One hand smooths over your back. You arch your back for him and Jungkook voices an approving hum against your core. Tingles sprawl everywhere, eyes falling shut as Jungkook swirls his tongue over your clit. He sucks on your tiny nub, and your thighs shake in response.

His thumb gathers your juice mixed with his spit and begins to circle your other hole.

“Jungkook,” you mewl. Your voice is small, barely having the vigour to drown out the noise of running water and Jungkook’s wicked mouth.

“Mhmm? What is it, princess?” His playful baritone timbre rumbles through your body, sparking the tight knot in your belly. The pad of his thumb continues to sweep over it, jolts of arousal teeter in your veins. He pecks your ass. “Want more?”

“Yes – please,” you answer hurriedly, voice laced with an equal amount of desperation and lust. It’s still early in the morning but Jungkook has you begging for his cock with no effort.

Jungkook straightens up to his full height. He squeezes your waist, his other hand pumping his thick cock. He rubs the glistening precum on his tip over his length. His eyes are glued to your inviting pussy, the urge to fill you to the brim fogs his mind, but he controls himself. He’ll get you used to his size before fucking you silly. The filthy thought of having you cum around his dick lures a restrained groan out of him.

Last night, when he heard your hushed whines and little whispers of his name, Jungkook was thirsting to come over and have his way with you. It had him lusting over you even after the phone call ended.

Jungkook taps his tip against your aching pussy. The wet sounds it elicits makes his front teeth dig into his lower lip. So wet. Just for him.

His head nudges your entrance. You inhale sharply, zealously anticipating the feeling of his cock sheathed deep inside you. Jungkook pushes his cock inside you. A mutual moan reverberates in the bathroom.

“Fuck.” Your eyes are tightly closed.

“It’s just the tip,” Jungkook mutters, fingers trailing up your spine.

“So big,” you babble.

“You can take it.” Jungkook’s hand finds your tit, firmly palming the smooth flesh. “You’re gonna take my cock like the good girl you are, right?”

The pet name makes your heart flutter. “I can take it,” you promise.

Gradually, Jungkook eases his cock inside you. He’s so deep. Your head hangs low. You’re so full.

There’s an inkling of burning pain from Jungkook’s size, but he allows you to adjust to him. His fingers tugging at your nipple steals your attention. A whine flies past your lips at his ministrations on your pebbled nipple.

“You can move,” you tell him once the pain dulls.

A delicate kiss is pressed on your shoulder blade before Jungkook draws back. His hands are firmly anchored in your hips. Jungkook pulls back until only the head of his cock is left between your walls. In a fluid motion, he bottoms out.

“Damn, you feel so fucking amazing,” he grunts, a harshness surrounds his tone. Jungkook loses himself. He finds his rhythm and thrusts inside your pussy with sharp motions.

You’re a mess beneath him. A moan of his name flees your throat. He smacks your ass and the sting rattles through you, tiny sparks fuelling the fire inside you.

“Faster,” you utter between pants. “Faster, Jungkook.” He picks up on his speed, hitting the sweet spot inside you in hastier succession. “Please don’t stop.” You sneak a hand between your legs. You press your index finger to your clit, stroking in swift circles.

Jungkook gathers your hair in one hand, twisting it around his fist. Your head lifts, back arching.

“You’re gonna cum for me?”

You’re barely able to register Jungkook’s question. Your high is inbound, threatening to spill over. “Y-yes.” It’s a broken cry, Jungkook’s rapid lunges of his hips make it practically impossible to talk.

“Please make me cum.”

“You wanna cum so badly, don’t you?” Mock sympathy laces his voice. His makeshift ponytail tugs you back. Your hands are merely touching the wall for support, but Jungkook has a secure hold on you.

You reply with an impatient whine.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” Jungkook muses. His grip on your waist tenses, delivering a particularly hard thrust. You curse at the way his cock kisses the deepest part inside you. “I think you deserve to cum.”

Oh God.

His hand with your hair bundled in his palm pulls you back to him. You reluctantly let your hands slip from the tiled wall.

“I’ve got you,” Jungkook assures. He snakes both his arms around you, keeping you safe. He gently nudges your hand between your thighs. You comply, allowing Jungkook to replace your fingers. “I’m gonna make you cum.” His voice promises into your ear. A shiver crawls up your spine. His possessive ass likes to receive credit for everything.

Jungkook’s middle finger rubs over your clit in circular motions. Your head tips back, completely engulfed in Jungkook’s enchanting touches on your body.

“So close.” Your head falls back against his shoulder. Your sweet moans fill his ear.

“Pretty girl.” Jungkook’s nose nuzzles your cheek. “Cum for me.” His other hand rests against your lower tummy. His palm puts pressure on that spot. Your eyes roll in utter euphoria.

When the taut coil snaps inside you, a fuzzy feeling rushes through your entire body. It makes your body tingle with bliss. The feeling is overwhelming your senses, your eyes can’t stay focused. You moan weakly, legs shaking.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. His words send warms chills on your skin.

His finger on your clit slows down. Jungkook lets you ride out your high, his thrusts deep and lazy.

When you peek a glance at him, you see him with brows knitted in pleasure. His dark hair is wet, long hair a mess on his head that you can’t wait to comb later. Jungkook’s sturdy body glistens with water and sweat, his shredded chest momentarily steals your attention until your eyes get distracted by the shimmering tattoos adorning his entire right arm, from hand to shoulder.

His colourful tattoos complete the look and add something irresistible to him, ridiculously charming – an impeccable portrayal of a ravishing man you should keep your distance from, but what can you say, your connection is like a magnet pulling you to him. You had kept your distance from him – even back when you two were still in high school and he was a grade above you – but once a taste of what it’s like to be with Jungkook and you became, mutually, addicted.

And as long as your brother doesn’t get a whiff of it – everything's fine.

“Wanna cum inside,” Jungkook breathes. His hand grips your ass tightly. “Can I cum inside?”

You rarely allow him to cum inside, but the way a desperate, whiny pitch accompanied by little puffs and moans colour his voice lets you decide otherwise.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Cum inside me, fill me up, Jungkook.”

“Oh, fuck.” His fingers sink into your waist. Jungkook fucks you relentlessly. “Gonna fill your pussy.”

With a guttural moan he pounds deep inside you, painting your walls white. Sloppy thrusts follow as he spills everything inside you, breathless noises hanging in the air.

Jungkook’s gingerly pulls his cock out, lightly tapping it against your pussy coated in your mixed juices.

“Bend over.”

Your hands are flat against the wall again, arching your back for Jungkook.

“Shit.” His palms smooth over the expanse of your ass. “Your tiny pussy looks so good filled up with my cum.”

You giggle. You feel his digits gently trace over your folds. He dips his finger in your cum filled hole.

“Up,” he instructs.

When you stand in front of him again, he holds his finger coated with his cum in front of your face.

On instinct, you open your mouth for him.

You close your lips around the pad of his tatted finger. Your tongue swirls around it, the taste of his cum spreading in your mouth.

Jungkook wears a fond smile on his face. He removes his finger when you swallow. “Good girl.”

Suddenly, someone yells your name from outside the bathroom.

You shriek.

“Relax, it’s just me.” Taehyung.

What the hell is he doing here so early?

You take a step back from Jungkook. “What do you want?” you yell.

“I think I left my AirPods here.”

Your eyebrows draw together in annoyance. “You came all the way back for that?”

Taehyung ignores your accusatory tone. “Can I come in? They gotta be here.”

You send a worried glance at Jungkook. But he just nods, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze.

The shower curtain is opaque. If Jungkook stays silent he won’t notice anything.

Jungkook pushes the shower curtain aside, pointing at the pile of clothes. Your pyjamas mixed with his jogging attire. Shit.

“Hold on a second,” you tell Taehyung, trying not to sound too panicked.

“I won’t look, _ _ _.” Taehyung’s voice drips in impatience.

“Just wait.”

You hurry to bend down, careful not to slip, and pick up Jungkook’s clothes from the floor. Jungkook hands linger on your hips to keep you safe. As you draw back, he pulls back the shower curtain and covers you both in the tiny shower.

“You can come in now.”

You hear him push down the doorknob. The door creaks a little as Taehyung enters the bathroom.

“It’s like a fucking sauna in here,” Taehyung comments.

The water is steaming hot – your choice, not Jungkook’s.

Your heart runs lapses in your chest. Your hand reaches for Jungkook’s arm, tightly holding onto him.

“Don’t forget that mum and dad are coming over this weekend.”

You mentally groan at his reminder.

Your first semester has just barely started a few months ago, but your parents can’t wait to check up on you.

“I know,” you reply.

“I think they wanna have dinner with Minho and his parents.”

Now you can’t suppress your piqued groan. Your forehead hits Jungkook’s biceps.

Taehyung chuckles. “You’re gonna pretend to be sick?”

“Mum will know.”

“Is me breaking his nose for you better?” You hear the smile on his face, but if you said yes, he’d totally do it.

You laugh. “Leave him alone. I don’t even know who he is.”

“Found them!” Taehyung calls. “Gonna leave now. Love ya!” You hear his steps leading him outside the bathroom. The door shuts close.

Jungkook and you remain silent until you’re sure that Taehyung left the apartment.

You heave a relieved sigh.

“That was close,” you mutter against his skin. Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

“So who’s Minho?” Jungkook briefly moves his arm to nudge your head.

“Just a guy who studies here as well.” You prop your chin up on his arm, looking up at him. “My parents are friends with his. They want me to meet him.”

Jungkook nods pensively. His palms slide down your back.

“Jungkook,” you warn when you feel him give your ass a squeeze.

“What? Lemme play with you a little more.”

“But it’s time for conditioner.” He grabs your hand mid-air, before you can fetch the conditioner.

He intertwines your fingers. “Just a little more.” Jungkook nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck.

Your eyes flutter close.

Your arms loop around his shoulders. A shaky breath springs from your chest when you feel Jungkook’s fingers between your legs.

“Gonna make you feel good. I promise.”

Jungkook is insatiable and you’re willing to give him every part of you.

The perfect match.

~

Hours later, you sit in class.

The lecture is almost done. You find yourself habitually scribbling doodles on your iPad, next to your notes.

You keep thinking back on the incident this morning and how Jungkook and you could’ve gotten caught. Maybe there shouldn’t be any visits from him at your place anymore – it's way too hazardous.

You don’t want Taehyung to find out. But you also don’t want to lie to him if you continue tackle this matter imprudently.

Your phone vibrates with a new message. You tilt the screen to your view. An immediate smile unfurls as you read Jungkook’s name.

Jungkook

hey

just wanted to make sure that you’re coming to the game later?

You

i am !! i'm excited

Jungkook

i’ll make sure to win for you

You

hihi

Jungkook

watchu up to rn

You

i’m in class

i’m bored

i don’t have friends

and i'm hungry

Jungkook

poor girl

you wanna come a lil earlier to the game?

You

why?

Jungkook

just so I can see you before the game starts

You

you’ll find me in the bleachers

like you always do

Jungkook

my eyes detect the pretty real fast ;)

You

🙄

Jungkook

so you don’t wanna give me luck before the game :(

You

how early are we talking about?

i still have classes

Jungkook

i dont know

enough time to give me sum good luck

You

what kind of giving luck are we talking about

🤨

Jungkook

you know

just

a little good luck kiss

You

good luck kiss?

you're annoying

Jungkook

i miss your lips

You

you’re sure no one will be there?

Jungkook

if you come early enough

You

i’ll come

just briefly

Jungkook

see ya princess

You’re gonna skip class to give Jeon Jungkook head.

The woman you are.

~

Jungkook slips you in the empty locker room without anyone noticing.

You both have mastered the ability to sneak into places unobserved, it seems.

“Just wanna stress that I skipped a class for you.” An accusing tone resonates in your voice as you turn to him, a finger poking his chest.

A bewitching smile swirls on Jungkook’s mouth. “Well, I’m happy that when you do, on a rare occasion, it’s to spend time with me.” He catches your finger easily, wrapping his hand around your wrist smoothly. Jungkook steps closer.

You can’t deny the giddy bubbles in your tummy whenever Jungkook flirts with you. It’s a prompt reaction – almost natural.

“You want your good luck kiss now?” The way he is staring down at you makes you feel a little jittery, but you keep his intense gaze, bashing your eyelashes up at him.

He traces a line with his knuckle along your jawline. “Whatever,” he answers. “Just the time I spend with you will bring me enough luck.”

A frustrated pout adorns your face. “I skipped class for this?”

“You don’t like spending time with me?” Jungkook’s brow quirks, a small playful smile curving his lips.

“No,” you deny vehemently. “I do like it. I just thought we were gonna do a little more than that.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I think you want it even more than me.”

Heat crawls into your cheeks. “So what?” You try to hide your growing shyness. “You were the one begging me to come here.”

“That’s right.” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, just the hint of a touch. “ ’Cause you always make me feel so good, princess.”

Shivers, everywhere. Jungkook leans down. He wants to tease you, you know it, but you stand on your tip toes and close the distance. You catch his mouth in a fierce kiss, fingers going straight into his hair, dishevelling the mess of his curls.

He walks backwards, pulling you along him until his calves hit the locker room bench and he slowly sits down. With his hands gripping your waist, he tugs you onto his lap.

“How much time do we have?” you whisper against his neck when he presses kisses down your throat.

“Don’t worry about it.” His lips move to your earlobe and he sinks his teeth into your soft skin.

“Jungkook.” You wanted to sound solemn, but it falls from you like a moan when his hands squeeze your ass. “I don’t want anyone finding us like this.”

“Then lets hurry.”

You shoot him a wide-eyed glance. “Excuse me?”

Jungkook ignores you and pulls you in for another kiss.

You are used to this, though. Spending your time with Jungkook like this always meant hurried touches and second look glances at the surroundings.

Your hips grind on his lap. Jungkook curses, his forehead falling onto your chest.

“I love this place,” he murmurs, palming your boobs through your tight sweater top. You giggle.

The bulge in his pants is pressing against you. Your hand clasps around it, squeezing a little. Jungkook groans at the feeling of your hand.

“I need you on your knees. Right now,” he commands in a rasp.

With a mischievous smile you sink down to your knees. Your trapped between his thighs. Jungkook quickly gets rid of his pants and briefs, pushing them down to his knees.

Jungkook’s cock lies against his abdomen. It’s pretty and salivating, his veiny length coloured in an angry red.

He strokes his cock, his thumb swiping across his glistening tip. “Open wide for me.” You feel his hand on the base of your neck. You obey nimbly, tilting your head upwards and sticking out your tongue.

Jungkook taps his cock against your tongue. The wet sound it produces sinking straight into your core. When he pushes his dick inside your mouth, you swirl your tongue around him. A string of curses follow the warm feeling of your mouth.

His cock is heavy between your lips. It reminds you of how his sheer size stretches your pussy when he fucks you, his mushroom tip rubbing against your sensitive spot and making you roll your eyes at the intensity. Your nails leave crescent marks in Jungkook’s thighs when you take him deeper.

“Just like that.” His voice gains something sharp and piercing.

You’re breathless when you pull off. You hold his length to your mouth; a dribble of spit runs down from his tip.

Jungkook moans at the sight of you spitting on his cock. He wants to shut his eyes and let your sinful mouth overtake every sensible part of him, but he can’t draw his eyes from you – his cock between your plump lips, your sparkly eyes looking up at him, a little teary because his size is still a little too much for you. Angelic.

Jungkook wants to blow his load right then and there.

Your head bobs up and down, palm stroking the part you can’t reach. The air is filled with wet, slurping sounds alongside Jungkook’s scratchy groans. You lap at the underside of Jungkook’s cock, tongue rolling around his head when you reach it, a kitten lick at his slit to add your teasing.

His dick twitches in your grasp. “Fuck.” He gathers loose strands in his palm. His hand lingers on the back of your head with your hair in a bundle to support you.

He urges you forward and your mouth closes around him again. Jungkook pressures you to take his cock deeper and you take his length further until your nose pokes his crotch. With shimmering eyes, you blink repetitively, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“God, you look so fucking pretty with my cock stuffed in your mouth.” Jungkook hisses, keeping you down there. You swallow and his cock twitches again, the curse that flees his chest is low and it does something to your pussy.

He pulls you off his cock, just to push you down again. You gag, eyes tightly closed as Jungkook has his way with you.

“Love to hear you gag for me.” A deep crease appears between his eyebrows. “So good at taking my cock. Gonna make me fucking cum.”

Jungkook’s muscular thighs shake beneath your palms. His hips move desirously upwards, full length sheathed in your throat.

“Gonna cum – fuck ‘m gonna cum. You’re gonna swallow like the good girl you are?”

Jungkook’s cum shoots inside you. His hand in your hair goes limp. You suck on his tip, lazily stroking his dick to pump everything out while he’s breathing heavily above you. He hisses when your gentle touches are too much from him, pulling his cock from your mouth.

“Swallowed everything?” His voice is low, a little drowsy from his high. His fingers smooth over your hair to tame the mess he has created.

“Uh-huh.” A smile is on your face. You give his spent cock a peck before you rise.

Jungkook pulls his clothes back on. You walk to your bag discarded on the floor to search for tissues.

“There’s no way we’re losing the game today,” Jungkook says, smirking.

While you somewhat clean your hands you say, “Don’t jinx it.” When you’re done, you grab your phone.

“I’m not. We’re winning this.”

You stand in front of him. “Can you hold this?” You hand him your phone with the camera app opened, the screen showing you. Your fingers fold around his wrist to get the perfect angle of your face and you start fixing the mess of mascara Jungkook was the cause of.

“You don’t believe in me?”

“No, I do.” Impishness sways in your tone.

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Princess, you should know me better than that.” He cocks his head, eyes intently watching you. “If we win, I’ll have my way with you tonight. If we don’t, you’re in charge.”

A tiny giggle escapes you at his proposal.

“Sure.”

You’re in for a ride.

~

Watching a hockey game of your brother has always been fun.

Not particularly because you are a fan of the game, but because you like to see Taehyung beam in his love and passion for it. You’ve always been a big supporter of his.

What made the games a tiny speck more enjoyable for you was his hot best friend playing with him.

You can’t keep your eyes off Jungkook. You keep searching for him, observing every move and play.

Sometimes you have to force yourself to pry your eyes away and see what your brother is doing.

It’s hard to force your attention away from Jungkook, but it’s even tougher to feign nonchalance because you attended the game with Chanyeol – a friend from class, but you two initially became friends at a frat party.

He usually tags along with you, together with your friend Naeun but she couldn’t accompany you today – too swamped with work.

“Taehyung’s really amazing.”

Chanyeol’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. Your eyes fly from Jungkook to Taehyung, your throat constricts like you’ve been caught in a criminal act.

“I know,” you say, a little awkward. “He’s always been this good.”

It’s half-time. The fifteen-minute break has just started. The bleachers are crowded, though some are leaving to use the small break.

Suddenly, the huge screens show close ups of the viewers.

The kiss cam.

The couple shown on the screen starts kissing and the entire audience cheers.

You’ve never been on the kiss cam. There are too many people in the audience anyway, the chances to appear on it are low.

Unbothered, you turn to Chanyeol.

“You’re coming to the party this Saturday?” he asks.

“My parents are coming over this weekend.” You sigh at the thought of it. “I doubt I’ll be able to go out.”

“Yikes.”

Your phone vibrates. You unlock it to find a new message from Naeun. You’re occupied with texting Naeun when Chanyeol faintly nudges his knees to yours.

“I’m sorry, I-” When you look up, you see yourself on the big screen. “Oh!” you squeal surprised.

Chanyeol laughs beside you. A rush of excitement and nervousness courses through your system.

Chanyeol’s eyebrows raise in question.

Should you? Chanyeol doesn’t have a girlfriend, you don’t have a boyfriend. There’s nothing to lose, really. Exhilaration is clouding your judgement.

Slowly, a timid smile curves your lips upwards.

You lean in closer. Chanyeol takes the hint and cups your cheek. When his lips touches yours, your tummy tingles. You share a heated kiss, your body leaning in closer as you get lost in it for a brief second.

The applaud and cheers are blocked by your ears. You only focus is Chanyeol.

The moment doesn’t last long. When you both break the kiss, you smile at each other, giggles surrounding you.

The kiss cam isn’t focused on you anymore, another couple on the screen.

“You’re a good kisser,” Chanyeol compliments teasingly.

“That was fun,” you reply, the thrill of it all making you feel light in the head.

When you cast your glance to the field, it slowly subsides.

Taehyung is looking at you with a sharp look. You know your brother too well. His expression translates to are you fucking serious?

Yes, you want to answer. Lemme have fun for once.

Your eyes roll unintendedly when you avert your gaze from Taehyung. But somehow, they instantly land on Jungkook.

Your chest flutters, even from a distance his effect on you is intense.

The look he gives you is blistering, straight into your soul.

No matter how this is will end, Jungkook is gonna have his way with you either way.

Oh, now you are definitely in for a ride.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

read pt 2 here <3

[oldsoul007]

dancing with the stars

nicholas chavez x pro-dancer!reader

summary: nick goes on dwts

Nicholas, a talented but introverted actor, decides to take a bold step and join the cast of Dancing with the Stars. His professional dance partner, y/b, is not only skilled but also incredibly charismatic and outgoing. From the start, y/n realizes that getting Nicholas out of his comfort zone will be a challenge, but she's up for it.

During our first rehearsals, Nicholas is hesitant and reserved, unsure of how to express himself through dance. With my patience and encouragement, I slowly help him open up. I introduces fun exercises and games to make him feel more at ease, and gradually, Nicholas starts to enjoy the process. We spend long hours practicing, and with each passing day, Nicholas becomes more confident and expressive.

As the season progresses, their bond deepens. Nicholas finds himself looking forward to their time together, not just for the dancing but for the genuine connection he feels with y/n. Her support and belief in him make a significant impact. Towards the end of the season, during a particularly heartfelt dance, Nicholas realizes that his feelings for y/n have grown beyond friendship. He's falling for her, and the realization fills him with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The journey on the show has not only transformed him as a dancer but also brought him closer to someone who means the world to him.

In one of our practices, Nicholas and I decided to take a break from their usual intense routines and just enjoy the dance. The studio was filled with upbeat music, and the atmosphere was light and playful.

Nicholas started by attempting a goofy dance move, making me burst into laughter. "What was that?" I giggled, trying to mimic his awkward steps. "Hey, I'm just warming up!" Nicholas replied, grinning. We both knew that sometimes, letting loose was the best way to connect and improve our chemistry on the dance floor.

We spent the next hour experimenting with different styles, from silly hip-hop moves to exaggerated ballroom steps. At one point, Nicholas tried to dip me but ended up almost falling over, causing both of us to collapse into a fit of laughter. "Okay, maybe we should stick to what we know," I said, still chuckling.

As the practice went on, we found themselves naturally falling into a rhythm, blending our playful energy with genuine skill. By the end, we had created a spontaneous, fun routine that was uniquely ours. "That was awesome," Nicholas said, giving me a high-five. "We should definitely incorporate some of this into our next performance."

I nodded, my eyes sparkling with excitement. "Absolutely. I think we just found our secret ingredient." We left the studio that day feeling closer than ever, our bond strengthened by the joy and laughter we shared.

In the dimly lit rehearsal studio, the music starts, and Nicholas and I begin their routine. The dance is a passionate tango, filled with sharp movements and intense eye contact. From the very first step, there's a palpable energy between us.

My hand rests on Nicholas's shoulder, guiding him through the intricate steps. "Focus on me," I whispers, my voice steady yet filled with an underlying intensity. Nicholas nods, his eyes locked onto mine. With each turn and pivot, our bodies move in perfect sync, the chemistry between us undeniable.

As the music crescendos, the dance becomes more heated. Nicholas surprises me with his newfound confidence, pulling me closer with each step. Our faces are inches apart, and the air between us feels electric. The tension builds, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside the studio fades away.

Suddenly, we stop, breathless and staring into each other's eyes. The room is silent except for our heavy breathing.

Nicholas can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he knows that this moment is about more than just the dance. It's about the connection they've built, the emotions they've shared, and the undeniable spark that's grown between them.

The lights dimmed in the studio as the announcer introduced Nicholas and me for our performance. The audience fell silent, anticipation hanging in the air. The music began, a slow and haunting melody, setting the stage for our contemporary dance routine.

Nicholas and me stepped onto the floor, our movements fluid and synchronized. From the first lift, it was clear that this dance was something special. Nicholas, usually reserved, moved with a newfound grace and intensity, his eyes never leaving me. I reciprocated, my expressions conveying a depth of emotion that captivated everyone watching.

As the dance progressed, our connection became more evident. Each step, each turn, was executed with precision but also with a raw, unspoken emotion. The choreography told a story of love and longing, and the chemistry between Nicholas and I brought it to life. The audience could feel the intensity, the passion, and the vulnerability in every movement.

Towards the end of the routine, Nicholas lifted me effortlessly, holding me high above his head as the music swelled. The moment was breathtaking, a perfect culmination of their journey together on the show. As the final note played, we ended in a close embrace, our foreheads touching, both breathless and emotional.

The studio erupted in applause, the judges on their feet. Nicholas and we stood there, still holding each other, knowing that this dance was more than just a performance. It was a testament to our hard work, our growing bond, and the feelings that had blossomed between us.

During the wrap up of the show for the week, Nicholas turned to me, his eyes serious. "Y/n, I need to tell you something," he began, his voice soft but steady. "I think... no, I know that I've started to fall for you. It's more than just the dance for me."

I looked at him, my expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. I took a deep breath before responding, "Nicholas, I think what you're feeling might be because of the intensity of our dances. The emotions, the connection – they can sometimes blur the lines between reality and performance."

Nicholas shook his head, taking my hands in his. "No, y/n, it's not just the dance. It's the way you laugh, the way you care about everyone around you, the way you make me feel like I can be myself. It's everything about you."

My heart raced, but I tried to stay grounded. "Nicholas, we've spent so much time together, it's natural to feel close. But we need to be sure that what we're feeling is real and not just a product of our routines."

He nodded, understanding my caution. "I get that, and I don't want to rush anything. But I needed you to know how I feel. Maybe we can take it slow, see where this goes outside of the studio?"

I smiled softly, appreciating his honesty. "Okay, let's take it one step at a time. We'll figure this out together."

[centaurianthropology]

Victor Frankenstein (1957): The Could-Have-Been Tumblr Sexyman

Tonight I watched 'The Curse of Frankenstein', the first of the Hammer Horror Frankenstein series, and all I could think was that if this film had come out more recently than the late 1950s, Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) would have been the absolute lust object of the best and most unhinged Tumblr-goers.

Look at this man. He is elegant, he has a thousand great Victorian-era outfits. He has cheekbones for days and pretty blue eyes. He's tall and thin as a rail. He exudes a palpable aura of superiority and bitchiness at all times.

GIF Credit: @doctor-frankenstoned

GIF credit: @docandbat

GIF credit: @theolikeworld

But all this gentlemanliness is a facade, barely covering the feral wet-possum-man hidden underneath. He's twitchy, he's weird. He has absolutely crazy blue eyes. He's obsessed with SCIENCE.

GIF credit: @petercushings

GIF credit: @jihyo-x

He's committed unspeakable crimes! So many crimes, and is constantly one scene away from being roughed up (mostly choked, because I swear the director of this movie had a thing about Peter Cushing getting choked by Christopher Lee ... it happens a lot).

GIF credit: @theolikeworld

GIF credit: @petercushings

GIF credit: @atomic-chronoscaph

He is absolutely, undeniably a freak and a monsterfucker.

He would be cancelled a thousand times. He is the absolute worst. A terrible human being. He would be so many people's Problematic Fave(TM). He would have so many Tumblr-goers cheering on his crimes and hoping he gets worse. And he would! For multiple slutty, slutty sequels.

GIF credit: @lonelyzarquon

GIF credit: @lonelyzarquon

And he was played by a genuinely sweet actor who adored his wife, liked painting miniatures, and was very open about being best friends for life with his looming, 6'5" oft-costar (who another large chunk of Tumblr would be absolutely feral about, but that's another story for another day).

Truly one of the great losses of the passage of time (and the fact that the Hammer Horror flicks really do take a certain sort of taste to actually enjoy), is that Peter Cushing's Frankenstein doesn't get his moment as the Tumblr It Girl of some fabulously-dressed, unhinged, crime-filled, bitchy Halloween season.

[elenasalvatore94]

Magnetic Hearts - Franco Colapinto`s Fanfic - 1

We are all fascinated by Franco's natural charm and intensely flirty personality, right? So let's go... Chris Almeida, a passionate Brazilian journalist with a deep love for Formula 1, navigates the fast-paced world of motorsport while managing a complicated and intoxicating relationship with the rising F1 star, Franco Colapinto. From the adrenaline-fueled chaos of race weekends to the quiet moments shared in private, their chemistry is undeniable and their connection deepens with every challenge they face.

Warnings:

Explicit Sexual Content – Contains detailed and explicit sexual scenes.

Age Gap Relationship – Features a romantic relationship with a significant age difference.

Strong Language – Use of mature or explicit language throughout.

Jealousy/Possessiveness – Themes of jealousy and possessiveness in the relationship.

Alcohol Use – Depictions of drinking or being under the influence.

Public/Non-Traditional Sexual Situations – Sexual activity in less conventional or semi-public locations.

Body Image/Insecurity – Mentions of weight gain, body image issues, and self-esteem struggles.

Mental Health (Migraine) – Descriptions of intense migraine symptoms and their impact.

The Monaco sun's glistening heat filtered through the hotel suite's curtains, casting golden streaks across the floor. It was the first race weekend of the 2024 Formula 1 season, and the paddock buzzed with its usual frenzy.

For Chris, it was another day on the job. She had spent a decade carving her name as one of the best motorsport journalists in the field. Known for her sharp questions and no-nonsense attitude, she was the go-to for every serious driver looking to have their voice heard. But this weekend felt different.

Chris had turned 30 just a week ago. While some would celebrate the milestone, she felt an odd sense of displacement. She had dedicated her entire life to her career, leaving little room for anything else. Relationships had come and gone, and somewhere along the way, she had forgotten what it was like to feel excitement outside of her work.

Until today.

"Chris, you're up next with Franco Colapinto. He's finishing with Sky Sports now," her colleague nudged her from the door.

Franco Colapinto. The name had been circulating in the F1 world for months. The 21-year-old Argentinian driver had stormed through the ranks, landing a seat with Williams. He had the talent, the looks, and the kind of charisma that made him an instant media darling. But Chris wasn't easily swayed by charm or good looks. At least, that's what she told herself.

As she prepared her notes, she heard the door creak open behind her. Franco walked in, and instantly, the air in the room shifted. His presence was undeniable - tall, lean, with sun-kissed skin, his messy brown hair falling perfectly into place, and those piercing green eyes that seemed to see through everything.

"Chris!" he greeted her warmly, offering a hand as he sat across from her. His accent carried a melodic rhythm, and for a moment, she was caught off guard by how genuinely charismatic he seemed in person.

"Franco, it's great to have you here. How's your first weekend in F1 been so far?" Chris began, keeping her voice professional and her mind focused on the task at hand.

Franco smiled, leaning back in his chair, legs spread confidently. "It's been surreal, honestly. But I'm ready. I've worked for this my whole life."

Chris nodded, her pen scribbling across her notebook as they began the formalities of the interview. But something about Franco's energy felt... off. Every time she looked up to ask another question, his eyes lingered just a little too long on her face. He'd smile in a way that was more intimate than a casual interview required. It wasn't arrogant - it was... curious, almost playful.

"Do you feel any added pressure being so young in a field of more experienced drivers?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

Franco tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. "No more pressure than interviewing someone as beautiful as you."

Her pen stopped mid-sentence. Chris blinked, certain she had misheard him. "Excuse me?"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I think you heard me."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she cursed herself for the flutter in her chest. She was a professional - this wasn't her first interview with a good-looking driver. But something about Franco made her feel... different. The confidence in his gaze, the way his tongue darted over his bottom lip after every sentence, the soft undertones of flirtation. It wasn't the usual media banter. This was something else entirely.

"I... think we should stay on track," she replied, clearing her throat, trying to push away the strange attraction that was bubbling under the surface. "Your goals for the season?"

Franco leaned back, but the grin didn't fade. "Win races. But you know, life is about more than just winning. It's about the moments in between, don't you think?"

"Moments in between?" she echoed, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Franco's eyes locked onto hers. "The little things that take your breath away. The unexpected. The things that make you feel alive."

Chris swallowed hard, her legs shifting under the table as heat rose in her chest. There was no denying it - Franco was flirting with her. Boldly. Brazenly. And worse yet, she was letting him get to her. 

She forced herself to look at her notebook, her hands trembling just slightly as she tried to maintain composure. "What about your relationship with your team? How are you settling in at Williams?"

Franco chuckled, clearly enjoying the dance they were in. "Williams is great. But I think you're avoiding the real question here."

Her eyebrow arched. "And what question would that be?"

He leaned in again, his voice low and intimate. "When are we getting drinks after this?"

Chris felt her pulse quicken. She was used to drivers being cocky, but this was different. Franco wasn't just cocky; he was deliberate. Calculated. And yet, she felt herself being pulled into his orbit, her professionalism slowly unraveling under the intensity of his gaze.

"I don't mix work and pleasure," she said, though the words came out weaker than she intended.

Franco's smile grew wider. "Who said anything about mixing? I'm talking about pleasure after work."

Her breath caught in her throat. There was no mistaking it now - he was coming on to her, and the worst part? She wanted him to. "Franco, this is an interview, not a date," she managed, her voice strained as she tried to regain control of the situation.

"Yet," he murmured, the word hanging between them like a challenge.

Chris stood abruptly, trying to put some physical distance between them. "I think we're done here," she said, her voice firmer now.

But as she gathered her things and turned to leave, Franco's voice stopped her.

"You can pretend all you want, Chris. But we both know you felt it too."

She froze, her back to him, her heart pounding in her chest. For a split second, she considered turning around, meeting his gaze one more time. But she couldn't. Not now. Not like this.

Without another word, she left the room, the door clicking softly behind her. But as she walked down the hotel corridor, her mind raced with the dangerous allure of Franco Colapinto.

What the hell just happened?

The rookie had flipped her world upside down in a matter of minutes. And for the first time in a long time, Chris had no idea what to do next.

So? More?

[mr-mandalorian]

there was sturmhond’s second in command, the princess that never was.

nikolai lantsov x reader, arranged marriage, angst/comfort, haven’t read to books so this strictly follows season 2

she was promised to the second prince. she didn’t know it at the time, but nikolai was the one to plead his parents to accept the deal. what a scene she caused that day, her father squeezing her arm a little too tight as he presented her to the royal family. she was all polite smiles and curated answers, her beauty undeniable in her satin gown. it was a perfected act, nikolai could only watch in amusement as guards swarmed her. when he reached to greet her with a kiss on her hand, she slashed at him with a hidden blade.

from that moment on, he knew that she would always be the woman to hold his heart.

and she hated herself for harboring similar feelings. she was an only daughter, an asset her father was sure to exploit. the last thing she expected was to find a kind man by her side, one who shared the same distaste for arranged union. when nikolai was preparing for sea, he didn’t ask for her to follow him. she was free to do as she pleased, and yet she chose to go after him.

and she was proving herself to be a valuable part of the crew. direct yet diplomatic, trusted by all as she unintentionally took the place of second in command. at times when there was a difficult decision to make, she felt crowds of eyes pointed at her instead of their captain. she didn’t mean to overstep, but the prince never dimmed her light.

she watched as the first army bowed to nikolai, the ravkan wind suffocating compared to the salt water breeze. and when no one took notice of the soon to be princess, she stayed silent. she should’ve been pleased, no longer a bride but just an acquaintance of nikolai’s that happened to tag along. and yet somehow it stung, feeling restless and out of place in the spinning wheel.

so when nikolai proposed to alina and turned to her for approval, she could only offer him stunned silence. y/n was no fool, she understood the need for this calculated move. and who was she to deny him? a prince was free to do his own bidding.

“dorogoya, please say something. it’s not like you-“

“right away, my prince.” she wished for the earth to open and swallow her whole, how embarrassing as she fumbled with her pockets, looking for the piece of jewelry that was just another secret out at sea. “you’ll be needing this.”

“you- you had this with you the entire time?” nikolai couldn’t help but grin as she revealed the engagement ring. he understood the weight of it, how she was never given a choice of who got to place it on her finger. and yet, when she was free to get rid of it, she continued to keep it on her person.

“just in case i needed something to trade if you ever got captured by pirates again.” she tried to save grace, ears tinting pink.

“you wound me, moya lyubov. you know i’m too good to let it happen again.”

his charm wasn’t working, y/n not in the mood for pet names without meaning. her eyes found alina and mal on the other side of the room, having their own quarrel about the proposal. she couldn’t help but feel like her and the tracker were the same.

“y/n, listen. i know you never wanted this and now we have a reason to end it. take as much as you need, your father won’t hear a word about it. return to sea, or-“ he cleared his throat, somehow more nervous asking this than her hand in marriage. “or stay as my advisor. it would be foolish of me to let go of your talents.”

hearing these words years ago would’ve had her over the moon. she’d be overjoyed, running through the door without saying goodbye. and yet she found herself unable to move, her breath hitching at his offer. he was giving her a reason to stay.

“i suppose it would be dangerous to leave you without supervision.” she tried her best to look nonchalant, but if a heartrender walked by, surely they’d think she was having a heart attack.

watching sturmhond flirt his way out of tricky situations was one thing, but seeing the way the prince treated his new lyubov was another. it was once y/n that got to intertwine their fingers, got to hear sweet nothings fall from his lips. it was all pretend but she couldn’t help the ugly feeling blooming inside her chest.

“i see changing brides is as easy as changing clothes, brother.” vasily mused after the engagement became public over dinner.

“good riddance to that feral girl you were so obsessed with before, no amount of money attached to her family could make her a worthy princess.” the queen nodded along, eyeing her second son.

alina watched as nikolai flexed his jaw, ignoring his family. instead his eyes were roaming the crowd, searching for someone. and when he found who he was looking for, alina had to bite down a gasp. there was sturmhond’s second in command, the princess that never was.

“y/n, it seems congratulations are in order.” zoya leaned over the the table, a smirk painted on her lips. “you’ve managed to escape a boring, pompous royal life.”

“pardon?” tamar leaned in just as close from the other side, nearly brushing noses with zoya.

“seriously? am i the only one who remembers that y/n was promised to nikolai?” the squaller stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. it should’ve been, but people only cared for saints.

y/n placed a gentle hand on tamar’s shoulder, ordering her friend to back down. instead she raised her glass, deciding the next best thing was to drown her sorrows. and soon she was laughing, her head thrown back like she was back at sea, enjoying a late night drink with her crew. with liquid courage and burning cheeks, she extended her hand to mal. she felt the need to cheer the tracker up.

her vision was becoming difficult as she danced, failing to notice that mal had twirled her into someone else’s arms. it was only when he spoke did she realize the warm hand on the small of her back belonged to her beloved prince.

“i barely get to see you now, moya lyubimaya.”

“don’t call me that.” she exhaled in content, resting her head on his chest as they swayed to the slow song playing.

“it’s never bothered you before.”

“i didn’t care if it was real or not before.” she admitted, the poison in her veins untying her tongue.

“and what if i said it had always been real, moya lyubimaya?”

“i would call you a liar.” she looked up at him, so beautiful with her doe eyes and long lashes. and then she was pulling away, leaving the prince lonely in a room full of people.

there was little time for sulking after that. the spinning wheel fell under attack and y/n was second in command once again. it was like second nature to stand besides nikolai, ordering people around and keeping the situation from spiraling further. when he was mulling over what to do with genya, she threw a warning glance his way. if an advisor he wanted, an advisor he would get.

there was no denying that they were good together. even when it came to facing the darkling and his army of grisha and shadow, y/n never lost her head. that was until the church, until a certain sharp shooting durast trapped them inside with a shadow of the size of two men. that was the only time y/n didn’t think, she just did as she pushed the now king out of the way, shielding him from the monster coming his way.

she couldn’t remember much after, just fragments of conversations and trembling hands trying to glue her back together. the thought of nikolai safe and sound lulled her to sleep.

when she rose, she was met with genya’s wide eyes. she was tending to her wound, the awful gash on y/n’s abdomen requiring everyday tailoring. the grisha smiled then, a genuine smile for the first time in days. she pulled away to reveal the king asleep in a chair next to y/n’s bed.

“wouldn’t leave your side.” genya whispered before walking over to wake him.

it was like he was struck by lightning, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed to the woman’s bedside. grasping her hand tightly in his, he thanked the saints with tears in his eyes.

“please, moy tsar, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“you will send me to an early grave, woman.”

“clearly, it will be the other way around.” she dared to glance down, genya having left her abdomen exposed. it wasn’t pretty, thick dark stitching slicing her belly in half. she nearly jumped out of her skin as the king placed his palm on top of it.

“see this scar?”

he nodded towards his hand, revealing a long pale line trailing through all of his fingers.

“this is where you cut me the day we met. i refuse to get it tailored, to keep as reminder of you everywhere i go.”

“nikolai-“

“i know it was an act of protest, but you had me falling head over heels. from that moment on, i knew you’d be the one for me. my second in command, i would fall apart without you by my side. i had this whole grand gesture planned, to make up for how you were treated before. but i can’t wait a second longer.”

he pulled out the ring y/n had returned him. suddenly it held no weight to it, it was light as a feather sitting on her finger. like it was always meant to be there.

“and what of your pervious engagement?”

“well my advisor was out of commission for a while, so i haven’t really thought it through.” she rolled her eyes at the king’s teasing. but she couldn’t help but allow herself to smile, wiping the smug look off his face with a kiss.

[turcott3]

off the table

charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, angst, kissing and fluff! (this is not edited apologies for any mistakes)

positions fics masterlist

~but i just wanna know is love completely off the table?~

-

your eyes fluttered open as the sun filled the las vegas hotel room. you roll to face away from the window and you’re met by a familiar sleeping face. the relationship you and charles had created was special but complex. you weren’t together. you’re primary relationship is sex and nights out together but it never extended beyond that. occasionally you received a grand prix invite, las vegas being one of them. he messed with your feelings often. one second it seems like he wants you and the other he’s leaning on a bar counter talking to another woman. you just let it happen because you wanted him, even if it does hurt you not knowing.

“good morning char.” you say quietly as the brunette stretches out and looks at you.

“good morning amour.” he smiles before getting up out of bed. you wanted to reach out and grab for him but you didn’t wanna push your limits. you yearned for him. all you wanted was to be his and his only, but it was starting to feel like too much to ask for. every day you’ve spent together, a bubble of anxiety grew in your chest.

“what time do we need to leave?” you call out.

“we have a few more hours no worries.” he smiles walking back into the bedroom and climbing back into bed, quickly nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“how many is a few more?” you giggle, scratching his scalp lightly.

“like four or something.” he says, his breath on your neck was hot and sent goosebumps all over your body.

“i need to get a shower okay?” you say and he pulls away after pressing a short kiss to your neck.

“okay, ill be here.” he smirks laying back on his side, scrolling on instagram. you enter the bathroom, grateful for the escape you just made. he made your mind spin. when he cuddles to you and kisses you, yet doesn’t care to want you is the mode confusing experience you’ve had. you let the warm water soak your body as you stood in your thoughts, tears pricking your eyelids. eventually you lost the fight and let the sobs wrack your body. all you wanted was answers. tearfully, you finished the shower and dried off, staring at your puffy face in the mirror.

“am i just not good enough?” you whisper to yourself. you walk out into the bedroom to grab clothes from your suitcase, avoiding looking in charles’ direction.

“y/n?”

“i’ll be out in a second.” you say shutting the door behind you. quickly, you slip on your clothes and hang your damp towels.

“y/n?” he asks again as you walk out.

“what?” you say, eyes still red and face still puffy.

“come sit, what is wrong?”

“i don’t know.” you lie sitting down next to him, not wanting to possibly ruin this trip.

“yes you do. tell me.” he pushes clearly wanting an answer.

“you confuse me charles. you confuse me so much and you’ve made me catch undeniably strong feelings for you but you confuse the fuck out of me. one second i think you may want me and then the next you’re talking to another woman. i’m just confused on why you wanted me here.” you express as lightly as possible.

“i do have feelings for you. i truly do y/n, i don’t want you to think that i don’t.”

“then why don’t you want me charles?”

“i do i just- im just so busy and stressed with the season i don’t want to have more things to keep up with. not that you don’t deserve the absolute best, i just don’t think i can give you what you deserve.”

“well i’m here right now aren’t i? i’ll come to every race, every event, everything. i am here for you and you only. i don’t want to get in your way so im trying my best to stay out of the way and id say ive done pretty well.” you add, tears falling once more and he nods.

“is love just not something you’re looking for right now? tell me baby.” you say as he pulls you into his lap, wiping your tears.

“it is. i don’t know why ive been pushing you away. you’re too good to me and i feel like if i can’t be 100% here then it won’t work and you deserve 100%.”

“i’m willing to try, only for you.” you say and he kisses you on the cheek.

“mon amour. you’re incredible.”

“so does this mean?”

“yes, it means you’re my girlfriend, i’m not even gonna ask i’m declaring it now.” he giggles and hugs you closely to his chest.

“look at us, newest couple on the grid.” you laugh.

“and arguably the best, sorry everyone else.” he says placing a light hand on your lower back.

“definitely the best.”

-

“carlos, this is my girlfriend y/n. you’ve met before but i figured i should re-introduce with the proper title.” charles giggles at his teammate.

“hello y/n, it’s great to re-meet you.” he smiles sticking his hand out to you which you gladly shake.

“it’s great to re-meet you too.”

“alright well baby, we got to get to it so, ill see you in a bit alright?”

“alright, good luck out there char.”

“thank you.” he smiles kissing you sweetly on the lips before walking off with his teammate.

“i was waiting for this day to come.” one of the staff says nudging you.

“really?” you giggle.

“yes, last race you weren’t there and he was like ‘i wish y/n was here, she makes me calm.’”

“how sweet.” you smile at the woman before she follows behind them.

guess love was never off the table.

-

sorry this is so short😭

[fairilia]

Chapter 1 | Unlikely Allies ⛓️🌹

Pairing: Mafia!San x fem!reader

Genre: Mafia AU, enemies to lovers, angst, romance

Warning: fem bodied reader, swearing, light smut in future chapters so mdni

Meeting Choi San for the first time.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

The bustling streets of Seoul were a world unto themselves, filled with life and energy. Y/N moved through the crowded headquarters of the National Intelligence Service (NIS), the weight of the nation’s unspoken secrets pressing down on their shoulders. They had been summoned to Director Park’s office, and y/n could sense that this was no ordinary assignment.

"Y/n, come in," Director Park’s voice called out as y/n approached. The door swung open to reveal a room filled with classified files and the lingering scent of coffee. Park was a seasoned intelligence officer, his stern face softened only by the wisdom in his eyes.

"Please, have a seat," Park gestured to the chair opposite his desk. y/n complied, noting the thick file labeled with a name that had become synonymous with power and fear: Choi San.

"We have a new mission for you," Park began, his tone grave. "One that demands your utmost discretion and skill."

Y/N leaned forward, their interest piqued. "What’s the assignment, Director?"

The older man sighed, the lines on his face deepening. "Choi San has been the puppet master of Seoul’s underworld for far too long. He’s meticulous, ruthless, and incredibly difficult to pin down. We need someone to infiltrate his inner circle, gain his trust, and gather the evidence we need to bring him down."

Y/N’s pulse quickened. They had heard of Choi San, a man whose influence was felt in every dark corner of the city. "You want me to go undercover."

"Exactly," he affirmed. "You’ll pose as a private investigator, newly arrived in Seoul, offering your services to the highest bidder. We’ve crafted a cover story that should get you close enough to San without raising suspicion."

Y/N took a deep breath. "And if he discovers who I really am?"

Park’s eyes met y/n’s, a flicker of concern there. "Then we lose our best shot at dismantling his empire. But I have faith in you, agent. You’ve always been our best."

Y/N nodded, determination hardening their resolve. "I won’t let you down." Hopefully��.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

The night air was crisp, a chill breeze sweeping through the deserted dockyard as y/n approached the meeting point. The old warehouse stood silhouetted against the moonlit sky, its decrepit exterior hiding the secrets within. y/n double-checked their disguise, every detail meticulously prepared. This was it—the start of a perilous journey.

As y/n entered the warehouse, the atmosphere shifted, the weight of unseen eyes and hidden dangers pressing in. Men moved in the shadows, their presence palpable even in the darkness. At the far end, a group had gathered, their attention focused on the man who commanded their respect: Choi San.

San’s gaze locked onto Y/N as they approached, his eyes cold and calculating. Y/N felt a jolt of apprehension but also an undeniable intrigue. San’s presence was magnetic, his air of authority and confidence almost palpable. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp features and an aura that demanded attention. Despite the danger, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the man who had managed to stay ahead of the law for so long.

San’s eyes assessed y/n with a scrutinizing intensity. "You must be the investigator I’ve heard about," he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. "I understand you have a particular set of skills."

Y/N nodded, their own voice steady despite the pounding of their heart. "That’s right. I’m here to offer my services."

San scrutinized them for a moment, a slow smile playing at the corners of his lips. Y/N’s composed demeanor and confident stance impressed him. This one might actually be useful, he thought, noting the intelligence and determination in Y/N’s eyes. "Welcome, y/n. Let’s see if you can prove your worth in my world."

The words hung in the air, a challenge and a promise all at once. Y/N felt a chill, knowing that this was only the beginning. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but they were determined to see it through. No matter the cost, they would bring Choi San to justice and free Seoul from his shadow.

To be continued….

// chapter 2

-

💌; aaaaand how do we feel about the first chapter? What will you think will happen between them? I’ll try to update this daily!

[vidavalor]

Ah, I remembered!

My question was: what are your thoughts on Crowley saying ‘I lost my best friend’ when he’s directly talking to Aziraphale’s non-corporate ghost in season 1? I always thought that line was strange. Is it that he can’t say ‘I lost you directly’ because others might be listening?

Hi @procrastiel ooh, nice! I *love* this scene so I'm super happy to share an opinion on it. Thank you. :)

Meta on the meanings behind what they call each other, what they intentionally *don't* call each other, how they actually said they loved each other and came up with a shorthand for it in 1941, and why they still don't just use those damn words already...

This goes everywhere, just FYI lol. I think I started with "no nightingales" and took a scenic route through 1600, 1941 and bits of S2 before coming back to the scene you asked about but I've been told it makes sense. Thanks for indulging me. :)

There are certain things that Crowley & Aziraphale feel that they can't call one another and can't say to one another directly. It's not just because they could be overheard if they're in public, though that's always a concern. They don't say them when they're alone, either.

It's because it hurts too much.

They've always tried to be optimistic about surviving Armageddon and being able to be together somehow but they're terrified that they won't and the odds, in their minds, aren't great, being that it's the whole will of God and all. As a result, they've lived their whole relationship expecting it to end in tragedy. They could both live for all of time, forced apart by Heaven and Hell. One of them could die and leave the other alone for eternity with nothing but the memory of the other. Meanwhile, in the now? It's not a great situation, either.

They can't really be together. They are together but not openly and they can't promise each other everything and they absolutely would if they could. Heaven and Hell could literally murder them if they got caught together so they have to be careful and keep it a secret. This means that even as the human world they live in opens up and starts to change to a point that queer humans like them are living more open lives with one another, Crowley and Aziraphale still cannot at this stage in the story.

So, it all becomes then an unspoken question of: what would make this easier? (As if it could ever really be made easier?) They don't wish to cause each other any additional pain. What would make it easier, they think, is if they don't say certain things so that what they can't have now or what might be lost to them in the future is and will be easier to bear.

This is delusional but they're doing it anyway because it gives them some measure of control over things they can't totally control.

They think it is easier to deal with not being able to be together if they just never say directly aloud what they are in terms that are surface-level undeniable. They speak in a coded language with one another and they say all the things in those words. But the doublespeak gives them some cover. Not to ever deny any of it but it softens the edges of it.

It's also because they live with the fact that they can't fully be together but they also both are fundamentally optimists and want to think that maybe, someday, they could find a way to have what they want to have with one another. That's also why they don't say the things fully. A part of them thinks that if they just don't right now and they wait until some time comes when it seems like they could have a life together, then they still get to have those moments. They're almost saving some of it for a life they hope they get to have but aren't sure if they will.

As a result, they are romantic as all fuck towards one another but they don't use words like romance or love aloud. If they do find they have to talk about it, they've shorthanded it in a way that they both understand because it's based on their past together. We already can see bits of it uncoded-- nightingales, dining at the Ritz-- but there are more than that that we can see if we deep dive a bit here so let's do that...

What's evident in the scene in 2.06 wherein Crowley decides to try to abandon the doublespeak is how deeply ingrained this way of speaking is for both of them. Also, how they don't abandon it when they're alone (the 1967 scene also illustrates this.) Crowley actually reverts back to their doublespeak *three sentences* into his proposal. He doesn't get much further than establishing that they've both been on this planet for a long time before he starts evoking coded messaging. He flicks his hands between them during the "you and me" line in a way that is echoing how Aziraphale gestured at him to mean "couple" in 1941. He winds up using coded language all over the place, peaking with the "no nightingales" moment that is actually coded language twice over because of "nightingales" being their word for romance and the asking Aziraphale to listen for birds evoking the Job minisode and the moment in the courtyard when they came up with the doublespeak.

Part of why Crowley can't get through the proposal without it is because he doesn't want to do it like this. Both the doublespeak and the idea of someday loosening it a bit mean things to them. They like their private language. Maggie and Nina are not exactly correct in assuming that they never say how they really feel. They're not wrong, either, but they're not fully right. Crowley and Aziraphale do talk. They just do it in a way that hurts them less because they can't bear to hurt each other because they're batshit crazy in love with each other. Maggie and Nina are correct in saying that Crowley and Aziraphale don't say how they truly feel if saying how you truly feel means using traditional language but they are wrong to say that they don't express these feelings at all because we have literally been watching them do so this entire time.

Notice how Crowley, even risking more with breaking their code in 2.06, still doesn't say some things. Amazing how he said all of that and he didn't say I love you, isn't it? He could have. He is, in what else he's saying, but the words they don't say are still there on the table. Aziraphale, later in the scene, almost does. He almost does because he is a mess over the situation and he wants to give Crowley something but then he doesn't and he spits out a self-aware I forgive you instead. That horrid, complicated version of it that he's used before and is code they both kind of hate. He's angry that this is all happening the way it's happening because it's taking some of the things they leave unsaid for hopeful, better days and it's saying them in a less than ideal moment.

That they both leave out that I love you, though, is the most I love you thing they could have possibly done.

They think it will be easier to not be free to be together and unafraid in the present-- and to maybe lose one another in the future, if they eventually have to-- if they pretend they're not a team or a group of the two of them and one way to do that is to never say words like the one we were all silently screaming at Crowley to say in that scene in 2.06 lol: "couple."

Are they a couple? Yes. Are they lovers? Yes. Are they partners, the term Nina used? Yes. Do they refer to their relationship using any of the terms in this paragraph? Oh God no...

That is why Crowley freaks out when Nina tries to get him to use uncoded, normal, human person language to help her understand what Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship is. She calls them partners and this is Crowley:

We're in agreement with Nina then when she responds with:

Nina isn't wrong here. She's just from a different world than Crowley. Nina lives in a world like ours in the year 2023 and she's puzzling Crowley and Aziraphale out through that filter. She doesn't know at this point that they are an angel and a demon who could be murdered by Heaven/Hell for being together. Her best rationale for why she's never seen Crowley and Aziraphale in her cafe together and didn't know until this week that the bookseller has a fella is her theory that Crowley is married and that he and Aziraphale are having an affair. To her, it explains why they've got chemistry for days but they're secretive. Crowley denies that-- defending Aziraphale's honor like the good old fashioned lover boy he is :)-- but the reason why he quickly denied that he and Aziraphale are partners, even if they absolutely are, is twofold. They are used to hiding it, it's dangerous for them to get caught out, and he probably feels uncomfortable with the idea of telling someone what they are exactly without talking with Aziraphale about it first-- that's all one reason.

The other reason is that he and Aziraphale don't use that word. It's not that it's an inaccurate one; it's probably the most accurate one, actually. They have a word, as we'll see, but partners isn't it because partners is the same thing as a couple and these are embargoed words to them. They don't use those phrases, even if that's what this is, just as they don't say I love you because if they don't call it love directly, they'll never lose that love, in their minds. If they don't know what it's like to hear the other say it, they don't ever have to bear the pain of never hearing it again. Better to hold those words back and only use them if they ever can somehow really be fully, openly together without fear. If Crowley doesn't use those words with Aziraphale, then he's not about to use them with the Coffee Shop Human he's only just recently met.

Along these same lines, they refrain from traditionally romantic terms of endearment on the surface. No my love, no darling, no sweetheart. Angel was there at the start and it stays because while it's always really angel (romantic), it's also angel (species/occupational), so it works well enough with their code. But its equivalent in reverse is Crowley. It's intimate, in the sense that only Crowley and Aziraphale know what it means. Only they were there in Job's courtyard. That's the coded layer of it-- it's Crowley's name to everyone else on the surface but it's that and a pet name to Aziraphale. It's why Aziraphale just calls him that constantly. Crowley changed his name to something only Aziraphale also really understands, making the use of it by Aziraphale then a way of expressing affection. When Nina asks them both separately about their relationship, both Crowley and Aziraphale actually revert to using what they call one another in an effort to explain it, even though they know that it doesn't translate fully in human terms without more words. Crowley says Aziraphale is an angel he knows; Aziraphale says:

Ironically? They are actually making it all *more* intimate by speaking in their own, private, coded language. They can't give each other everything but this they can, right? The language is their own, little world and not being able to explain their relationship to humans that well in 2023 doesn't mean they don't know what they mean to one another, which is more important. Since they can't make each other promises of forever that they can't keep and they can't have a life in the present that they'd choose for themselves, something they can do is use their little language to be sweet towards one another and they do. By having to work a little harder at conveying meaning through doublespeak, they wind up with something ironically actually at least as romantic as the traditional words, if not more so.

Anyone can call a lover darling and it can be lovely but can just anyone make my dear fellow romantic? Aziraphale can. This one was all him. He loved standing there in front of a dozen deadly human soldiers in the Kingdom of Wessex in 597 A.D., getting away with a pet name under the guise of stealing the "old sport"-style of male, moneyed, British speak and turning it romantic. This scene is great with the pet names because it opens with Aziraphale being a bit of a tease with "is that you under there, Crawley?" which he only does so that Crowley will roll his eyes and correct him. Aziraphale loves that Crowley changed his name to something coded between them based off of the moment they started their doublespeak. It was very romantic and this scene shows that Aziraphale sometimes, in earlier days, would call Crowley the old name just to get Crowley to correct him, which is all just a coded way of getting Crowley to say that, yes, he still feels the same way and yes, he still wants Aziraphale to call him that. This same scene, a few sentences later, then has Aziraphale's my DEAR fellow-- heavy emphasis on the 'dear'-- which is then answering Crowley's admission by just skipping any and all of Crowley's names entirely lol and calling The Black Knight my dear in front of a bunch of bloodthirsty soldiers and mercenaries.

The my [] fellow is perfect in their little language because of how it sounds all "I say, old chap!" on the surface but contains words that are romantic to them in their doublespeak. It's intentional that it's *not* "old chap" or "old sport" that they appropriated for their own purposes, it's my [] fellow. Fellow as in human, which is how they see their relationship (because it is) and that's something that comes up when Crowley uses a variant of this in 1941, which we'll get to in a second. My adds an intimate element to it of admitting that they are each other's in whatever ways they can be.

Aziraphale, like we said a moment ago, will sometimes sauce Crowley with the pet names a little and he does in S1 when he calls Anathema my dear when reassuring her in a scene in which he and Crowley are having a playful coded argument over Crowley's driving. Aziraphale miracles a bike rack onto the back of The Bentley and unnecessarily codes the word "bicycle" ("a perfectly normal velocipede"), smirking when Crowley grumbles "bicycle" at him. It's joking with him a bit at the lunacy of their little language *in* their little language. (Crowley playing back during this sequence is also calling Aziraphale angel (romantic) in front of Anathema, which was also a strategic decision to signal to her that he might look like a murder hornet but he's really just long-suffering gone on the sunshine-y one. Very we're just an old gay married couple, hen. We won't hurt you. in tone.) Anyway, Aziraphale using my dear with Anathema-- and his little smirks towards Crowley around it-- was really just underlining the way he uses my DEAR fellow with Crowley by using the same core phrase with a human in normal, uncoded, human conversation.

Other than this and the big one we're going to get to, there are really only two other things we've seen them use to refer to one another. In S1's Eleven Years Ago/2008, there's the moment when Crowley and Aziraphale have arrived back at the bookshop and Aziraphale is flirting with Crowley and says this, tongue firmly in cheek:

I mentioned this in another post about the wall slam in Tadfield but this is a very much intentionally blasphemous specific sexual request that is more at home in the sex meta post you all have me working on lol but for the purposes of this conversation, "foul fiend" is Bible for "wicked demon", so this is Aziraphale just kind of flirtily, jokingly calling Crowley a wicked demon in the one area in life where Crowley would probably happily own that description lol. It also has the other layer of humor in it in that Crowley calls Aziraphale angel (romantic) all the time, more often than he uses Aziraphale's actual name, and you'd think he wouldn't want to because Heaven hasn't exactly done right by Crowley and he's not especially fond of it. By calling Aziraphale angel with love behind the meaning of it, he's calling Aziraphale a good angel. He's saying that Aziraphale is what an angel is *supposed*to be, something that Aziraphale struggles with. It's both sweet and reassuring at the same time. As a result, Aziraphale has never just started calling Crowley "demon" for the same reasons-- he thinks if being a demon is being demonic and truly evil, then Crowley is a terrible demon because he's a lovely person. He is, however, positively wicked in bed, and Aziraphale likes to mock their whole situation with blasphemous Bible innuendo when requesting a little hellfire.

The other thing to briefly mention before we get into the friend discussion is a scene not long after the one we just talked about, when they're both smashed in the bookshop in S1. When he's drunk and attempting to say "bouillabaisse", Crowley gets distracted staring at Aziraphale for a moment and calls him baby before going back to his attempts at saying a word (in French, their romance language, per S2) and we get the "fish stew-- anyway!" segue back into the rest of the scene. Aziraphale was too drunk to notice enough to react so this opens up the question of whether or not the rules can get slightly more lax in bed. Does Crowley call Aziraphale baby in more intimate moments or does he just want to and it slipped out when he was drunk? It's a fairly normal phrase so it both would and would not be a surprise either way but it's still something of a question mark by the end of S2.

But there's one thing that they use that pertains to your question from the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene (told you we'd start to get here eventually lol) and that's how they use the word friend.

The rules of their language apply-- what is said on the surface is what one of the meanings of what they are saying is. It has to be what it sounds like on the surface to also be a coded thing. Aziraphale is Aziraphale's name and angel is what he is and Crowley is the name Crowley chose for himself. That angel and Crowley have hidden meanings-- that angel is given a tone that turns it from referring to Aziraphale by his species and more into angel (romantic); that Crowley is the name everyone calls Crowley now-- from angels to demons to humans alike-- but only Aziraphale knows that it's an in-joke referencing Crowley having to playact at being demonic and evil to hide his truer, sweeter nature... this is what makes these terms acceptable in their mutual language. My [] fellow is then also meeting the rules of the language because of the humor of taking a non-romantic phrase and using it for this romance of theirs that they don't refer to as one. It sounds like a perfect common thing for British men of any kind of relationship to use in conversation on the surface but it's romantic to them underneath.

So when they say friend, by their own rules of this language, it has to first contain the surface meaning. It has to be true on that level to reoccur in their language. So 'friend' does mean 'friend' in a friendship sense. They are friends. They are good friends-- best friends. Using the word is an admittance that they are each other's closest friends, which is both lovely in its own right and healthy in a romantic relationship. You want to be friends with your romantic partner. It doesn't mean you can't have other friends, of course, but if you're not friends with your partner, it's not really going to be a terribly satisfying relationship and since that is what they are-- the longest-running of long-term relationships lol-- that they are friends is important and a good thing. It's also a big deal for them to admit to it, since they are actually *supposed* to be mortal enemies. Their whole enemies-to-lovers thing never really got off the ground because they adored each other on sight but that they're friends despite the danger and the conflicts is a big thing in its own right.

But that's not the *only* meaning of friend to them, so let's look at how they evolved that bit of their language.

From what we've seen so far, it started in 1600 in The Globe Theatre scene with this:

In 1600, Burbage drops some human, queer coding into the secret language. Friend, the way Burbage is using it, is something that's actually implying lover. The surface word is technically related to friendship but the tone changes the meaning of friendship in this context to be that of a sexual relationship. Burbage's tone implies that he thinks Crowley and Aziraphale are fucking (which Crowley, laughing, silently agrees with is obvious, since he's been ignoring Burbage in favor of buzzing around Aziraphale and clearly trying to flirt his way into his bed).

Burbage is pissed that these two-- who, as we know, are basically the entire audience-- have been ignoring his monologue in favor of flirting with each other so when Aziraphale tries at a modicum of politeness (that somehow is even bitchier subtly than Burbage lol-- "I love all the... talking" is the best he can come up with), Burbage slings back by trying to drag Crowley into it by calling him Aziraphale's friend, with that loaded tone that makes the question really: 'and what does your lover think?'

Aziraphale gets the innuendo-- he's not exactly a novice at this in 1600-- but his immediate response is just to panic at the idea of anyone noticing him and Crowley together and, as Aziraphale does when stressed, he lies in increasingly absurd levels of untruth. (See also: the scene with Shax in The Bentley in S2, when he spirals up into ludicrously claiming to *not even know who Gabriel is* in an effort to say that he has nothing to do with his disappearance.)

Crowley is bemused by Aziraphale's increasingly desperate attempts to deny what is abundantly obvious to everyone around them and by Burbage's attempt to make a thing out of them to try to assuage his bruised ego. He chooses a little violence with this particularly amusing bit of go fuck yourself, you insecure little twerp:

Anyway lol what this scene then does is give us a moment in the story wherein we see them in a situation where friend (loaded) is defined as friend used euphemistically for lover and they both know it. This isn't coding they came up with but that they will wind up appropriating from the humans around them and repurposing for themselves, though they won't for awhile still to come yet.

What's worth noting here is that friend (loaded) in this human code is euphemistic for a pretty wide array of loaded friend relationships. There's no separation in it for friends with benefits versus someone you're seeing but aren't comfortable admitting that versus someone you've been with for awhile versus the person that is basically your secret spouse, etc.. All of these things are friend (loaded) in human code because the main purpose of it is to identify a pair of people who are involved as such without directly saying so on the surface, even if it's implied heavily via tone.

So what happens when Crowley and Aziraphale eventually decide to repurpose it for themselves?

They've got to be clear on what it means. They'll need to define it more specifically amongst themselves in order to use it.

For awhile still after 1600, they just aren't defining their relationship. They don't need friend (loaded) because they have things they call each other, right? They've got angel and Crowley and my dear fellow and the like. They're not usually around a lot of other humans together that are going to do what Burbage did and try to force a definition of it. (This changes, as we know, in the modern era-- especially S2-- but back in the day, it was true for them.) As a result, they've never had to define this and that's absolutely fucking perfect, as far as they're concerned.

Not defining this? Lovely. Yes. More of that. Makes the fact that they can't just call each other my love hurt a lot less, they're convinced. It helps now for sure and it'll make it less painful if they lose each other. They totally will not at all continue to spend thousands of years wondering what it would sound like if they said the things. They don't each have fourteen million fantasies about being able to use the traditional words and how they'd do it-- absolutely not lol. *Not* using the traditional words isn't at all making both the allure of those words-- and the ones they *do* use-- hotter and more romantic or anything. Not in the slightest...

So then we eventually get the Holy Water Arc, right, and in the middle of that scene, we see them run into a definition problem. In 1862, what actually causes them to fight isn't the holy water request. It's Aziraphale giving it all a word and that word being "fraternizing." First rule of We Don't Say It Club is that we don't say it... but it's also that if you're going to say a word that means the two of you and what you have, maybe don't use the one that Heaven would-- the one that means 'socializing with the enemy.' In Aziraphale's defense, they're both a mess and half-broken up in this scene and there's more going on it than we're going to get into here but the point is that suddenly not having a word caused big drama and caused the whole holy water conversation to de-evolve into an argument that broke them up for the eleven or so minutes that they can stay broken up.

But they still hadn't really resolved the whole holy water argument debacle by 1941, even if there is evidence in the show that they saw one another between 1862 and 1941, and the reason why they haven't is because holy water is irretrievably linked to defining what they are.

Crowley asking for it meant they had to consider what they are to one another and talk about it and 1862 proved their language didn't have words for that at the time. There is a level of panic to it because the request contains a certain level of acknowledgement about how they feel about each other. Aziraphale jumps onto holy water being a suicide pill not just because he's terribly worried that that's why a visibly anxious and depressed Crowley wants it but because if it's not what Crowley wants it for, then Crowley is saying he wants it for defense and whose defense, right? Not just his own, potentially. It's very much saying that he wants it to protect not just himself but Aziraphale from Hell and now we're talking about Crowley being willing to risk the wrath of Hell and maybe get himself killed trying to protect Aziraphale from harm and now, we're closer than ever to that I love you under the surface and they panic and they avoid it for 80 some odd years entirely until World War II...

...and then we arrive at The Blitz in 1941. We are now a scant one hundred years or so until 6,000 years being up since the creation of Earth and Armageddon was always going to happen in "*about* 6,000 years" so, for all they know, this is it... and Crowley in 1600 told you how he feels about sad endings:

So while rescuing Aziraphale is nothing new, Crowley turned up in 1941 with the intent of making a better ending, in case they had now found themselves at the start of the end of the world. They were almost out of time either way and he didn't want it all to end without them having said the things but also they didn't know *for sure* if this was it... and they still can't be together if it isn't... so Crowley can't just show up and be like so, angel, I've been meaning to tell you in the actual words for the last six millennia-- I'm madly in love with you. He has to find a way to do it in their language of doublespeak. And so, here's Crowley using friend (loaded) in front of the Nazis in 1941:

By using my friend in the church, Crowley is then actually euphemistically calling Aziraphale my lover by calling back to The Globe Theatre and stealing the human coded term that Burbage used. Crowley does not care what the Nazis think. The comment isn't for them; it's for Aziraphale. So is letting Aziraphale find out about his first name, which is also calling back to The Globe Theatre. ("Anthony", pronounced "Antony", as in Shakespeare's 'Antony and Cleopatra', the play in which Shakespeare put the love poetry he stole that Crowley wrote for Aziraphale.) So is referencing the unguarded holy water in the church, which is then trying to talk about it a little by connecting it to this romantic grand gesture here and acknowledging why they panicked over it all those years ago. It's all saying I'm in love with you in their little language in the best way Crowley can in this moment.

But what did we say about friend (loaded)? We said they have to define it, right?

Because it can mean different things. Crowley isn't wrong to use it and Aziraphale understands it the way he does in the church. He understands it to euphemistically refer to them as lovers, which they are. It's just that all of this combined with Crowley saving the books then makes Aziraphale realize that it's one thing to say my friend (loaded) but if you say it and then there's holy water referencing and then there's more of the Shakespeare scene in there with Anthony and the little "you don't like it?" pout and then there's the entered a church for you and... you put all of that together with little demonic miracle of my own and saving the books...

...and Aziraphale realizes that Crowley is taking the thing that they always were-- my friend (loaded)-- and using it in the middle of saying that he's in love with him.

Crowley is trying to give it a word.

The word he's using meets all their language rules. It's from a moment in their past. It has a true surface meaning and a loaded undertone and subtext for days. He's not asking Aziraphale to use it. He's not saying the actual thing, as that would be breaking their rules, but he is absolutely saying it in their language.

He's not asking Aziraphale for it in return. He's just saying that this could all be over soon and he needed Aziraphale to know and in some ways, it's an apology of sorts. He's sorry they fought. He's sorry they lost years over it. He's sorry for the pain of it. He was in love, you see. The sex while pining got to be a lot. All of this got to be a lot. You get it now right, Aziraphale? Yes? Good. Lift home...

The phrase my friend (loaded) takes on a different meaning after Crowley saves the books and after their conversation inside and outside The Bentley. That's the point of the two "shut up"s-- the one from Part 1 and the one right after it where Part 2 picks up. Why have this conversation twice? Because it's actually two different conversations.

The first one outside The Bentley is Aziraphale in a love stupor, just telling Crowley that saving the books was a nice thing and Crowley responding with a half-effort "shut up" while he cleans his glasses. It's the only scene in the entire series to date in which Crowley is cleaning his glasses and he is in this moment to give Aziraphale his eyes for a moment. But The Blitz, Part 2 shows us this again... and then gives us the scene in The Bentley with what starts out sounding like the same conversation on the surface to start. It is, though, not the same conversation *under* the surface...

There's a reason why Aziraphale says a second time that saving the books was a nice thing. They're now in The Bentley, which is a little more private, and Aziraphale can't let this drop because he needs to know for sure what Crowley is saying with this and if Crowley's sure he wants to be saying what it seems like he's saying. This is basically Aziraphale's version of Crowley's "are you sure? are you sure you're sure?" in the magic shop later on. Aziraphale knows Crowley just said he's in love with him but Aziraphale also knows *Crowley*, right?

He's been with Crowley for a long time. He knows him very well. He knows that Crowley is anxious and emotional and hopelessly romantic and that the world is literally ending around them as they're driving through bombs raining down over London and part of Aziraphale is thinking of the fact that even in this seemingly apocalyptic Armageddon that could be starting here, Crowley was coded in what he just did. He left the traditional words on the table. He said the things in their language and that is, in some ways, even more romantic, but he's left them the things they leave out of hope for a better future, just in case. There's a caution to that and while Aziraphale appreciates the caution, he also can sense that Crowley was nervous about doing this. He is a little concerned that Crowley's going to have said he loved him and then regret it and pull away from him again and Aziraphale can't do the first bit of the Holy Water Arc all over again. He's really wanting to start to move into a lighter era here lol. He also really wants to be sure that he's understanding what Crowley is saying entirely.

And he wants to hear it again.

If Crowley isn't going to shut down on him entirely now, Aziraphale very much liked all of this and would like more of it but he first has to be sure he knows for sure what Crowley means and he can't just ask directly or he's both saying the things they leave unsaid and he'd be undoing Crowley's effort so he has to find a way to ask without directly asking and in such a way that an already sensitive about all of this Crowley won't take offense or be embarrassed and that gives them a way back from this if Crowley shows signs that he feels like he might have gone too far.

So Aziraphale offers Crowley an out.

He tells him again that it was such a nice thing Crowley did for him. He means this and it was a nice thing but this is also saying that he heard that I'm in love with you that Crowley was saying by saving his books and that he liked hearing it, that it was nice, that it was okay that Crowley did that, but that it's also okay if he feels like he made a mistake with it.

Crowley's response to again being told that it was nice is to again tell Aziraphale to "shut up", this one a bit more emphatically than he did outside The Bentley a few moments before. It's unclear to what extent this language, at this time, is sexualized, but by 2019/S1, this back and forth of Aziraphale calling Crowley "nice" and Crowley responding with some bite is a self-parodic sex game that they're playing in Tadfield.

Much of what happens in Tadfield is playing on other parts of their story-- think about the paintball bit with the gun but now with knowledge of The Bullet Catch in The Blitz, Part 2-- and there is a big difference in the ways Aziraphale calls Crowley "nice" in 1941 and in 2019. In Tadfield in 2019, Aziraphale is literally smirking in a way that implies that this is a little game they play and he's saying a series of things that he knows will prompt this intentionally outsized reaction from Crowley, who is playing it with him. The game is likely tied *to* this bit of 1941 that we see in The Blitz, Part 2 in S2, in that it's referencing it a bit (if very obviously going in a different direction lol), but also because Aziraphale's phrasing and tone in 1941 is not smirking. It's softer and quieter and not designed, through their language, to prompt a certain response out of Crowley. It's not yet a sex game, it's still a kind of conversation they've had in the past that will serve as inspiration for said sex game in the future.

While it's a bit unclear if a version of this already existed in 1941 or if 1941 is part of the evolution to what it becomes by 2019, there's a tone to it in The Bentley in 1941 that says that, at the least, Crowley suspects that Aziraphale is trying to lure him towards sex by calling him nice and that's reinforced by the next thing Aziraphale says, which continues it, but is also doing so to provide Crowley with an out to his confession of love, in case Crowley wants to take it.

Aziraphale's out comes in the form of offering him sex, which is absolutely what this is:

Oh, gee, Aziraphale, whatever could you do in this moment here in The Bentley? You aren't at all telling him you'd do literally anything he says he wants right now, right here, in his damn car, are you?

But while Aziraphale would so absolutely yes because lawd, 1941 Crowley is sldjwkejele... look at what he's *really* saying as well...

What he's saying here is we can pretend you just did all of that for sex, if you want to. I know you didn't and you know you didn't but we are good at pretending and if you're silently having an anxiety attack behind your glasses over there, we don't have do this...

Crowley's response?

The quiet "forget it, will you?"

Meaning: I don't want to take it back. I'm in love with you. I wanted to say it. I meant to say it. Everything might be going to go pear-shaped and I wanted to have said it somehow. I don't need you to say it. I don't know what I expected but I also maybe kinda didn't want the response to be 'aww, you're sweet... do you want a blowjob?' so maybe let's just drop this. We're going to never speak of this again now. Moving onto spreading the demon drink...

Crowley turns down Aziraphale's offer to make it about sex and, in doing so, Crowley says indisputably that it's about love. If he had taken up Aziraphale's offer in that moment, then it would have been agreeing to pretend that he's never said he's in love with Aziraphale and to instead pretend that the romantic-looking things were all an effort to get into Aziraphale's pants. When he turns down sex, Aziraphale smiles softly because, to him, *this* is then really the moment that Crowley said he loves him.

Aziraphale knows for sure now what Crowley was saying and my friend (loaded) now has a definition between them that means the whole deal. Since Crowley said the thing that meant lovers euphemistically as part of saying he's in love with him, then my friend (loaded) is now forever part of the night during The Blitz in 1941 when Crowley said he was in love with him, which means that they can't use any version of friend (loaded) with each other without that being part of it. Friend (loaded) always meant lovers (sexual partners) but now it also means lovers (romantic partners) as well. It's not that they just suddenly became romantic partners because it's been a romance all along but now they're acknowledging it in a way they can't go back from and they do so by giving what they are to one another a word in their secret language.

Aziraphale then wants to return the feeling. Crowley is saying that he doesn't need him to by telling him to forget it about it and wanting to move on from it but Aziraphale can't accept that. Crowley might be right-- this could be it-- and like Aziraphale's going to let Crowley potentially soon go to his grave without telling him he's not alone in how he feels. That's not happening. However you think the events happened to give Aziraphale the opportunity to rescue Crowley from the wrath of Mrs. H-- divine fate, Aziraphale miracling the bottles broken, The Bentley shipping it and helping Aziraphale, all of the above, etc..-- he gets the chance not ten minutes later and he takes it... and, of course, what does he use?

My good friend (loaded af lol).

They've already just redefined my friend (loaded) by this point, so to turn around and use it is to tell Crowley I feel the same way. I love you, too. This is Crowley's change in expression in reaction in that above gif. It's one thing when Aziraphale volunteers to help-- that is sweet and Crowley's all eyebrows raised in intrigued surprise. His whole expression then slips from that into being stunned when he hears my good friend and he realizes that Aziraphale is now grand gesturing *him*. He's realizing that the bit in the car really was just an offer of an out, not just that plus Aziraphale saying he was uncomfortable with what Crowley had said and needing it to stay a lot more hidden beneath a cover of sex. It was Aziraphale needing to be sure he understood and needing to be sure that Crowley was sure he wanted to make this change in how they are but now that he's sure on those things, Aziraphale is actually all in for it.

Worth mentioning that my good friend (loaded) is a mashup of my friend and my dear fellow, which makes it extra sweet. Just as Crowley started this by calling back to The Globe Theatre by using my friend (loaded), Aziraphale is calling back to the my dear fellow rhythm of what he's called Crowley for centuries. It says I love you and every 'my dear fellow' was not just fondness but an 'I love you', if you didn't already know. I've loved you forever.

It's also quite literally calling Crowley 'good', which is not something that he really believes about himself but is something Aziraphale believes about him. His good friend, as in close friend, but also his good friend, as in good person. He also does nothing to discourage Mrs. H's inevitable understanding that he and Crowley are a couple. He gestures between them to indicate it. He uses my good friend in such a way that it's just the same thing queer humans of the time would have said to someone low-risk (a theatre person) in London during WW2. It's completely inverted from his response to Burbage in a different theatre in 1600, in the moment this whole friend thing became a thing for them, which is also intentional. It's telling Crowley he understood all the things Crowley was saying in the church and he feels them, too.

Then, there's this, once they're back the bookshop:

Here, we're acknowledging what friends means now by pausing and emphasizing it. "That's what friends are for" is not a phrase that would require the pause and the tone on friends if friendship was all "friends" meant to them. It's not now and this is acknowledging that.

Note Crowley's little lip twitch/almost-sad-smile at what Aziraphale is saying. It's agreement. It's assent. This is them confirming that they understand what the other is saying and giving this new word a home in their language.

This is then what they call each other now when they need to talk about it and it's my friend on the surface and it's my love underneath.

There's a sadness to it. How nice it would be to just be able to say it... It's also a moment of realizing that they aren't sure they can use this word all the time. It's good to have a word and a shared understanding of what it means and they have no desire to take back these confessions of love here but while it's lovely to have said this now, it's also a bit heartbreaking.

Aziraphale's heartbreak, his little Crowley move of putting on his (transparent lol) glasses, his brave smile, and then how quickly they both transition from this conversation into The West End, The West End and I'm a lonely G.I... and The farthing *has vanished*! It shows you how accustomed they are to burying the pain under trying to live in the moment for one another.

A few moments after this, Aziraphale will be showing Crowley some of his human magic tricks in preparation for performing on stage and when they get to the point where Aziraphale is telling Crowley about Goldstone's Magic Shop, he then tells him that it's not for him because it's "for professional conjurers only."

This is somewhat unintentional metaphor on Aziraphale's part that Crowley then acknowledges and turns into coded language in his response. Aziraphale's love of human magic is metaphorical for his love of humanity and living in a way as to indulge his humanity in a way that angels have been taught not to do. The reason why Aziraphale's love of magic is this metaphor and not, say, his love of books or music or food, is because all of the other things that Aziraphale likes about the human experiences can be dismissed by him as relating to understanding the human experience *so as to be a better angel.* He's really not a student of humanity just to learn how to better guide them. He admits to Adam in front of Crowley in S1 that he thinks that humans are the ones who get it when he tells him that he hoped Adam would be good and worried he'd be evil but that he's something better than either of those-- he's human incarnate. Aziraphale can justify most of his indulgences as being related to learning human ways to relate to them to help them-- food, books (his home and his book collection can be justified as necessary cover for his angelic embassy), music, etc.... but the love of human magic?

Aziraphale just loves it. It's for him. It's his hobby. He thinks it's a little selfish and probably a lot unbecoming of an angel. He'd completely just want this for a job and he's not supposed to want a job other than to be an angel, which is supposed to be the bestest job imaginable lol. What kind of angel wants a silly human job? What kind of angel with actual magical powers is obsessed with human magic? Aziraphale is. He's endlessly fascinated. It makes him happy. It brings him joy. It's the part of living as a human that he's done in such a way that it's just for him and in such a way that it conflicts a bit with his role as an angel. The only other way Aziraphale loves like this, in this human way? The only other thing he studies at to be a better human over being a better angel?

Crowley.

So when Aziraphale says that he can't go to Goldstone's because it's "for professional conjurers only", Crowley knows that what Aziraphale is really saying is that the shop is "for actual humans only". He knows Aziraphale is admitting that he's sometimes insecure about his ability to be human because of how his humanity is tied to being an angel. Crowley knows that they're talking about Aziraphale and his human magic love on one level but that they're also talking about them and their relationship on another level. This is Aziraphale saying that he loves human magic with a passion but he's not sure he's as good as it as he could be or as he wants to be because maybe he doesn't know everything about being a human in the way that the "professional conjurers"-- humans-- know... and everything we just said he's unsure about with relation to human magic is also how he feels sometimes about loving Crowley.

This conversation is happening in an overlapping way with their friend confessions and Crowley hears that Aziraphale is saying in there that he loves Crowley with a passion but he's not always sure that he's studied enough, that he knows enough, about being human to be what Crowley deserves. He would love to go to this magic shop but he's afraid that it's not meant for him. He struggles, as Crowley already knows, with how he's not supposed to want it but oh he wants and he can't help but love magic and he can't help but love Crowley... all of which prompts Crowley to reassure him, using a now-familiar bit of their language:

"You, my Nefertiti-fooling fellow, are about to perform on the West End stage. If that doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does."

Meaning:

You, my human-passing man, are so good at this that you fooled the Ancient Egyptian Queen. You're about to perform your human magic on stage-- to make yourself vulnerable in a way that scares humans. You are always willing to take risks like that and try something new and learn more about being human and that makes you human. It's human to not totally know how to be human, I think. You're doing all of this tonight because you love me. It doesn't matter if you're a good magician or not. This love of ours is human and you're very good at it. You love me very well. If loving me doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does.

Crowley uses my [] fellow to emphasize my friend (loaded) by using the term of endearment that Aziraphale himself started that has human connotations to make the point that their love makes them human and to tell Aziraphale that he's very good at their love.

Aziraphale, understandably melting over that:

And then? They just keep using my friend. For decades. Through S2.

What makes it work for so long is the fact that it's human-coded in origin so if they run into a situation where they need to refer to one another like this, they can use it and it doesn't get a lot of questions. After the partners scene with Nina, Crowley uses my friend without thinking twice about it, telling her that she'll be safe in the bookshop because "my friend would never let anything happen to you." Nina already gets that they're friend (loaded) and she doesn't know what using friend means to them because only they know about 1941 but it's a phrase that they can use with the outside world if they need to but that mostly stays between them because only they know that, in their language, my friend = my love.

So when Crowley says I lost my best friend in the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene in S1, he means that he lost his best friend but he *also* really means I lost the love of my life.

The first thing my best friend means is just the actual, uncoded definition-- what the words really mean as they are. Aziraphale is Crowley's best friend. Whatever else they are to one another, they've always been that. The idea that he'd have to go through the end of the world and whatever came after without his best friend devastated him. In a lot of ways, it's sweeter than saying anything else, even if they weren't in a public space, because it's saying that what he'd miss the most is just having his partner in crime in life. The other layer of it is the coded layer. Since they are a couple that uses my friend in an euphemistic way for my love, then Crowley's my best friend in 2019 is the same thing as Aziraphale's my good friend was in 1941. It is my best friend on the surface and it is that but it's also my love beneath it.

This scene is also then the same thing in meaning:

And by S1's present of 2019, they're at a point of using it in an argument, which provides them the means to talk in a way they didn't have in 1862. Yeah, they have their dramatic little breakup spats but this is actually a marked improvement over where they were before the holy water mess. So now watch this bit of the bandstand again here below for the friend (loaded)...

Remember that Aziraphale lies increasing bits of absurdity when stressed and that Crowley knows that. He dismisses what Aziraphale says with that "you doooo" when Aziraphale tries the *utterly ridiculous* "I don't even like you" lol. They're both panicked about the end of the world here in Ineffable Divorce: Round One and Crowley's trying to get them to run away again, which is a terrible idea, but in the process of suggesting it, Crowley is calling them friends (now eternally loaded, as we just spent this meta proving lol) and...

...*how long* have they been friends does he say?

So, how long have they been in love, per their language, per Crowley in the bandstand scene?

Six thousand years.

Since the start.

Vavoom. Sorted. :)

[bbyblair]

small touches pink cheeks, pt.3

charles leclerc x f!reader 

pt.1 pt.2

 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: part 3! ;) I'm so glad people are enjoying this series, its so fun to write so ty to you all!

summary: the start of the 2023 season, Bahrain in early march. you'd recently joined the sky team, working as a news reporter and interviewer for your beloved sport.it's your first week and a mix of nerves and anticipation swirl together in your stomach. you're giddy to finally meet who you’d be working with for the next few months… but what happens when an instant connection sparks up between the new girl and Ferrari's golden boy? 

warnings: some cursing nothing crazy! just tensionnnn ugh slow burns ;)

word count: 2.4k

friday 3rd march, 2023. 

after returning to your hotel room, the sun had already set and the moonlight was the only thing currently illuminating you as you stood there. thinking about what had just happened in the small timeframe you were at work. on your first day. you sat down onto the bed and sighed. its not like you weren't flattered that the world famous charles leclerc was, well what you thought, flirting with you. and of course he was undeniably handsome, yet having only just met there was something in the way he looked at you, which you had never seen before. and it made an odd feeling rise up in your stomach when you thought about it. 

to try to get your mind off it, you started getting ready for bed. taking a nice warm shower and then doing all your skincare. your hotel was very nice, clearly the company you worked for had splurged out in hospitality for their employees and you were very thankful for it. with a small sigh you collapsed on the bed, exhausted from the day that you'd just had. 

lying in bed you decide to check some of your socials, to see what some of your friends from uni and school were up to. you only told your closest friends about your job when you first applied, afraid that somehow you might jinx it. a small befell your lips at how much has changed in a matter of months. 

clicking onto instagram you notice you had a new follower, your instagram was public but you didn't have many followers anyways, only people who knew you closely followed you, so you were a little surprised. you definitely didn't expect this. 

new notification- charles leclerc started following you. 

your mouth dropped open in pure shock. how did he find you? when you introduced you only gave your first name, there was nothing else that said your full name. during both of your interactions with charles your name badge was shoved into your bag. with wide eyes you clicked onto his profile. fuck, of course you were already following him. before you began your new job you immediately followed every single driver on the grid, it was your job of course to know all of the gossip. 

a small groan escaped your lips and you shook your head. he clearly had asked about you, how else did he find your instagram? jesus, this guy really isn't giving up. you weren't going to deny having a man like charles practically stalk you was flattering, but also added to your annoyance! 

you only had a handful of posts on your instagram, most of them were you with our friends. a few of you by the beach somewhere, in a cute little bikini. of course you looked great. it was your second recent photo which caught your eye, you remembered the memory with a smile. it was a slideshow of pictures with you and your best friend luke, you two were both pretty drunk and did a small makeshift photoshoot in his apartment. you had also posted the pictures that same night, and boy did you look good. wearing a little dress that skimmed over the top of your thighs, the moonlight bounced delicately across your skin, accentuating your curves in the best way. 

the first photo on the slideshow however was a picture of you and luke together, a selfie taken by you. your hand holding up the phone above you both, so you could see his hands wrapped tightly around your waist, you were smiling and pressing a friendly drunken kiss on his neck, while he laughed. looking back, the photo did really look like you two were a couple, but you knew that wasn't the case. he was one of your closest mates, and things never went further than that between you both, due to mutual respect for the friendship. 

today you saw how possessive and jealous charles could get, if he had seen these pictures then you were a little terrified for tomorrow. he would obviously bombard you with questions and you were definitely not looking forward to it. with a dramatic sigh you rolled over to your side, placing your phone onto the table beside you and attempted to fall asleep. 

saturday 4th march 2023 - qualifying day. 

you awoke with your alarm blaring into your ear, and a pit in your stomach. of course you were excited to witness the first qualifying of the season, and your career. but there was someone you were hoping to avoid. hopefully today you would meet the rest of the drivers, and could be preoccupied by them and their quali results. 

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

you arrived at the circuit with a smile on your face. you were determined to make a great impression to the rest of the drivers and prove that you were smart, qualified, and not in this business just for the ‘good looking’ drivers. you had on a pretty outfit, which made your confidence levels skyrocket, aiding you in setting a good first impression. light wash denim jeans hugged your body perfectly, with a little flare at the bottom and  two red stars on the butt. red boots underneath tying in with the red stars on your jeans, and a pretty white top to tie it all together. maybe your outfit was a bit much for work, but this was the first race of the season, and you had to come in with a bang. 

the circuit was even more packed than yesterday, fans eager to see where their drivers would end up on the grid. after pushing through the swarm of people you finally arrived into the sky hq, greeting everyone warmly you then sat down. your boss, then comes up to you, greeting you with a small polite smile and hands you a folder. he perches against your desk. 

“morning y/n, amelie is going to be doing the post quali interviews today, i was hoping you could tag along with her after you finish some paperwork.” he motions down at the folder now in your hands. 

“sure thing!” you reply back enthusiastically, a large smile on your face. 

“good, and also great work with the ferrari drivers yesterday, i've had some great feedback from them, all good things!” he chuckles and then began walking alway to greet the other employees. so, charles has been talking about you. god, it's been one day. Rubbing your hands over your face to snap back into work mode, you then began working through the excessive amounts of paper from the folder.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

you were finally done, it was around 12pm so you and amelie decided to go grab some food. there was still another few hours till qualifying, as it's in the evening today. after grabbing your begs you exit the small office and are hit with the warm days heat. you close your eyes for a moment, basking in how nice the heat feels on your face. 

“okay, so you've only met the two ferrari guys, so i was thinking i could introduce you to some more of the grid? so you are more familiar during interviews?”her works quickly snapped you out of your relaxed state as you listened in cautiously. you were excited to meet some other drivers, you just hoped that charles wasn't around when you did. in the way she spoke you knew she wasn't really asking you, she was going to make you go either way. 

“that sounds like a good idea.” you replied softly with a smile. 

“perfect let's go, most of them just hang around their own hospitality areas, but if they're good friends they may be sitting together.” she explained, and you listened, nodding your head. she started walking down the paddock, first we passed the mercedes hospitality, but neither george nor lewis could be found.

“most likely they are having a meeting, or lewis is in his trailer.” she explained. 

you simply hummed in agreement, your journey through the grid continued as you two walked by the red bull hospitality. you noticed max first, a group of men around him. they were all sitting at a table. then you clocked who they all  were. max, charles, carlos, pierre, lando and daniel. they were all wearing their team's shirts paired with some jeans or simple trousers. they were all sitting outside due to the warm temperature, laughing at a joke one of them had said. you didnt realise they were all good enough friends to be able to sit and chat together. they hadn't noticed you and amelie at first, although you were sure if charles back wasn't facing you he would have spotted you instantly. 

“jackpot!” amelie whisper shouted and motioned for you to follow her. you stay in your spot. suddenly feeling extremely nervous. 

“you know i'm not feeling too good actually, i think i need to sit down. you go ahead.” she looks at you like you'd just kicked a puppy. eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

“no! come on it'll be quick, just introduce yourself, they are all so lovely i promise!” she's still lightly holding your arm and sending you a reassuring smile. yet you really didn't want to face charles right now.  

“honestly amelie, its okay. i can meet them all later.” you spoke a little louder than anticipated, your words all rushing out at once. clearly one of the drivers had heard the commotion behind them because their conversation had also died down, and you could feel their eyes on you both. fuck. 

before you could make any move to leaves, amelie turns around and smiles at the drivers politely. and lets go of your hand, which she was practically pulling you with. before either of you could speak max send you a smile and nods at you both. you were scared to even look in charles direction, so you quickly angled your eyes to the floor. 

“amelie, y/n. how are you both?” max says, he then motions with his hand for you two to come over to the table. 

“y/n is the new reporter for this season. she's going to be working very closely with the different teams, so you'll probably be seeing her a lot!.” max explains to the group. you nod shyly and then all of the men start introducing themselves one by one. politely extending out their hands for you to shake. 

carlos smiles up at you and sends you a knowing nod, as you had already met. “good to see you again y/n” 

“you too carlos.” you reply politely. 

charles didn't say anything though. his eyes simply trained on you, you finally built up enough courage to look at him. he didn't smile this time. his eyes dark and piercing into you. the tension between you both was obvious to the rest of the group and amelie, who thankfully  awkwardly cleared her throat and began talking. 

“okay, we're off to grab some lunch, good luck for qualifying! great seeing you!” amelie says, a warm smile on her face, and you can tell why she is really great at her job. 

the group of drivers all mumble out polite replies, and some small waves go around the group. all except charles. he sat there, arms crossed and a somewhat angry expression on his face. eyes switching between you, or the group of his friends. he'd been watching how they reacted when they saw you, and the way they looked at you. a pit of jealousy had formed deep in his stomach. 

“good luck.” you smiled out, trying to maintain a polite expression on your face. as you both begin to walk away, you hear a deep familiar voice behind you. charles. he calls your name again. you pause, then quickly turn around, not wanting to appear rude or give an unpleasant impression to the drivers. 

“could I speak with you? just for a moment.” he informs you. fuck, well you couldnt exactly say no. 

“sure.” you indulge him, but your voice comes out a little snappy and annoyed. the group of drivers exchange some confused looks, and amelie awkwardly wavers behind, before informing you she'd meet you by the coffee stand, you send her a smile and reassuring nod and she's off. 

charles begins walking through the paddock, and you awkwardly trail behind him. the tension filled silence just fuels your nerves even more, so you feel like you must say something before you explode. 

“char-” before you could even finish his name he stopped you. and you then suddenly realised he'd stopped walking and you were both standing by his driver's room. another wave of nerves floods over your body. you know for sure you're not going in there with him. 

he spoke your name, and it broke you out of your panicked train of thought. you look up at him but stay silent. awaiting what he has to say.

“i am sorry, if i've…” he pauses for a few moments as if he's searching for a good way to phrase what he's about to say. you're just shocked that he's about to apologise for something. 

“if i've given you the wrong impression or anything. you have a boyfriend and I have a girlfriend.” another pause, and as he says those words you can tell that his ‘apology’ is half assed and clearly not how he truly feels. 

“yesterday was a stressful day, so i am again sorry if i behaved rudely.” his eyes were trained to your face while he spoke, attempting to catch your eye but you were purposefully avoiding his gaze. his words annoy you even more. why is he apologising now? what after he thinks you have a boyfriend then he backs off? does he actually think i believe him?

“well thank you for your apology i guess.” you reply. trying to switch this conversation so you have the upper side. “but I don't have a boyfriend, and even if I did that wouldn't be my reason for staying away from you” with that you send him another sly smile and begin to walk away. feeling somewhat triumphant over what you've done. yet suddenly a hand wraps tightly around your wrist and pulls you back. your body slamming against his, his breath tickled against your ear as you hear his slow melodic breathing. 

“it's rude to leave when the conversation is not finished. ma belle” my beautiful.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

pt.4? ;0

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