#but it’s not even that i don’t like these people or talking it’s just the frequency and again no good way to say

[goose-books]

The Ghost of Christmas Past shows up and you’re like, “Ohhhhh for fuck’s sake,” but you’re in your childhood bedroom so it’s kind of on you. The ghost seems offended. She crosses her arms. She looks like you used to, with the pigtails.

“No way,” you say. “Don’t start.”

“I am the—”

“The Ghost of Christmas Past, I know, I know.” Because she looks like you, and it’s Christmas Eve, so what else. Your parents used to read you the story every year. Even when you were old enough to read on your own, it was better in your dad’s voice.

“You came home for your parents,” the ghost says, solemn. “It’s time to tell them.”

“No, like, ‘when you’re ready’?”

“You are ready,” she says, “or you wouldn’t have come back.”

Which is so stupid, because you weren’t on the moon, you were at college, and it’s only been two months of shots, you don’t even have a mustache. “Fucking leave me alone,” you say, so she does the ghost thing and takes you to a ten-years-ago Christmas. The living room. Your parents. Your fledgling self on the carpet with your stocking, the one you can’t look at anymore because when you were a baby your parents patiently hand-stitched the fucking name.

“Maybe they’ll make you a new one,” says the ghost.

“You don’t know that.” Bullshit ghost powers.

“You were happier back then. When they knew you.”

“Everyone was happier back then. It was, like, 2008.”

“There was a recession,” says the ghost.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You turn over in bed. For a second you expect to roll onto child-self-you curled up next to you. Probably crush the life out of her. You got good at that. It’s her bed, her room, pink covers, cat posters.

“This is so stupid, this Dickens thing,” you say. “I’m not even Christian anymore.”

“Tell your parents that second,” the ghost suggests.

“Oh my fucking God I’m not telling them anything can’t you go bother Jeff Bezos.”

“I’m just doing my job,” says the ghost, and vanishes.

#

The Ghost of Christmas Present has an acne problem. As soon as you open your eyes you say, “Oh my God,” and they say, “Hi,” and you say, “You better not be the fucking Ghost of Christmas Present,” and the Ghost of Christmas Present says, “I am.”

Which you knew.

“Why me?” you say, pink comforter bunched around your waist. “I didn’t do anything. Scrooge was mean to orphans.”

The Ghost of Christmas Present shrugs. “It’s the job.”

“Are you gonna show me my parents now?”

That makes them look kind of embarrassed.

“Well, don’t,” you say. If your parents are talking in the other room, huddled up conferencing with the lights off, you can’t hear it over the heater buzz. But you can guess what they’re saying: you went to school with a shitty pixie cut and worse eyeliner, and you came back with a real haircut and a permanent frown and a bunch of new friends you play sentence Twister to avoid pronouning. “I know they’re nice people, I got it. I’m just not ready.”

“It’s just—you’re kind of waiting for them to ask?” says the Ghost of Christmas Present. They scratch their face, where they have spectral sideburns coming in. “Your dad thinks you have a head cold. ‘Cause of your voice. But your mom’s starting to get it.”

You pull the covers over your head. “Cool, awesome, didn’t ask.”

“She isn’t going to ask,” the ghost says. “She wants you to tell her.”

You stick your middle finger out from underneath the covers. When you check, the room is empty again.

#

The Ghost of Christmas Future doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you. You look back. You probably have bedhead. You fixed your daytime wardrobe but your pajamas are still lacy and purple.

“How come you’re a man?” you say.

He says, “I think you know.”

“Fucking—go away.”

“I have something to show you first.”

“Are we going to the goddamn graveyard?”

He doesn’t say anything but then you’re in the goddamn graveyard. Together. Looking at your headstone. The dates are close enough together to make you kind of sick.

“They went with the full name,” you say.

The ghost nods.

“Not even the nickname. My nice gender neutral nickname.”

The ghost shrugs. You kind of want to throw something at him but you’re just looking at it now. Chiseled in marble. Immovable. What’s that thing bigots on the internet say, about someone digging up your jawbone two hundred years from now? You always wanted to think you wouldn’t care.

The Ghost of Christmas Future’s pretty quiet. This is the part where Scrooge goes full breakdown. Tears, begging, promises.

“I’m not gonna cry on you,” you say.

“Okay.”

So neutral. “Man, what do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” says the ghost. “I think you’re there.”

You can’t stop looking at the headstone. “God fucking damnit shit. You promise they’ll be cool?”

“Nothing’s promised,” the ghost says. He gestures at the graveyard. “Except for this.”

“Awesome.” Cryptic cliche philosophical ghost bullshit. Yada yada. Death and taxes. Not with that name on your headstone, though. Not with that name on your tax forms, either.

You turn to tell him that and then you’re blinking in bed. There’s still one glow-in-the-dark star stuck to your ceiling where the glue never wore out. You put those up like ten years ago. Maybe longer. The light in the room says it’s morning. You swing your lacy-pajama legs over the side of the bed and go to ruin Christmas.

[lovecla]

STUCK WITH YOU ; QUINN HUGHES.

❄︎ pair: quinn hughes x y/n.

❄︎ synopsis: of all the things y/n thought she was going to do on christmas eve, being stuck with her sister’s brother-in-law, quinn hughes, wasn't one of them.

❄︎ word count: 5.6k

❄︎ chapter warnings: unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, use of the word slut (once), softdom!quinn, dirty talk.

💌 from me to you: merry christmas, babies 🩶 i hope all of you had a great time and lots of delicious food. 1st of all, i’d like to apologise bc i got carried away with the word count! 2nd of all, i’m sorry about how dirty this is… this was supposed to be wholesome and cute but i don’t know what happened 😭 sorry…. anyways, as always, forgive me for this poorly written smut and share with me your thoughts! i love you! ♡

𖧷

Ever Since your sister started dating one of the most known hockey players, Luke Hughes, your life changed— for the better, that is. It’s not like you’re used to all the attention, but it’s nice to attend parties and meet your favorite hockey players for free.

But, the only issue you didn’t see coming when she announced that she was, in fact, very much in love with the youngest of the Hughes brothers is that now you have to constantly coexist with your long time celebrity crush, Quinn Hughes.

It’s an old thing, your situation with Quinn Hughes. You first started noticing him during his time in college, when he was just eighteen.

None of your friends understood what was so special about him but you just told them they didn’t have to: Quinn Hughes is one of the most attractive men you have ever seen, and you’ll stand by that until the end of your days.

When your sister decided that she would make Luke Hughes hers, you remember laughing and saying: He’ll be yours when Quinn Hughes’s mine.

Turns out, Luke is your sister’s.

And, well. Quinn’s not yours.

When you’re around him, during dinners and parties, you almost don’t even acknowledge him. It’s just because you don’t know how to be around him without immediately blushing and cringing at your own words.

It’s like you’re a teenager all over again, but what else can you do, really. He’s attractive, he’s funny and he cares about the people he loves; you cannot not be in love with someone like him.

But now you’re his brother’s sister in law and have been for the past year. You have been doing a great job at not staying in the same room as him for too long, and even if you can come off as rude or mean, it’s better than to get caught while watching him with lovey eyes.

It’s December 24th, and you’re on your way to your sister’s house, where you’d spend Christmas with her— and since she’s only arriving later that night because of work, you’ll be there earlier to arrange things for her.

You’re annoyed by the fact that she has to work until late during Christmas time but at least you’ll get to spend the night with at least one of your family members, since your parents are out of town.

What’s also annoying is the fact that it’s cold and snowing. Not just normal, winter type of snow but North-Pole type of snow. You’re shivering inside your car, because your heater is broken and you stupidly decided that it’d be a great idea to wear just leggings and a sweatshirt.

You park in front of her house, sighing and trying to move as fast as your frozen limbs could. You’re also carrying a hundred bags with you, because decorating is your favorite part of Christmas and knowing your sister and her workaholic personality, you know that she probably doesn’t even have her tree out of her attic yet— so you’ll have to do the whole decorating thing by yourself.

Which you silently prefer because there’s nothing you hate more when people try to dictate where your ornaments should go.

You ring her doorbell first, before dumbly realizing that she’s probably at work already, so you just start looking for the spare key she gave you when the door opens, making you lift your head up with a smile, only to drop it two seconds later.

“Oh.”

Quinn’s looking back at you with a polite smile, and you’re not sure that what you’re seeing is actually real because why the hell would Quinn Hughes be at your sister’s house during Christmas?

“Hi, Y/n.” He says, leaning against the door frame.

You frown without even noticing it. Why didn’t she warn you that he would be at her house?

You’ve been staring at him for what feels to be hours, when he speaks again: “Aren’t you… cold?”

You realize that he’s right and you are cold. Cold and tired because you’re still holding the heavy bags, so you just nod and watch as he opens the door more and reaches for the bags in your hand, picking all four of them up like they’re not heavy at all and letting you in.

You’re still in shock and shivering when you close the door behind you, welcoming the warm air inside the house, thankful for your sister’s amazing heating system.

Quinn walks back to the living room and you grab your phone, dialing your sister’s number and putting the phone against your ear.

“Y/n? Are you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me he would be at your place?!” You shout slash whisper, hiding behind her clothes rack.

“Who’s he? Why are you whispering?”

“What do you mean who’s he?” You hiss. “I’m talking about him!”

“Who’s… Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Her laugh makes you blush. “I didn’t think he’d arrive so soon. I told him he could come later because you’d be the only one there so I just guessed… well. Nevermind.”

“What do I do?!” you sound so desperate it’s almost funny. “I can’t be here! You know I—”

“Y/n, stop freaking out. It’s just Quinn,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Go decorate and do all that stuff you like to do during Christmas. I’ll pick up the food goodies when I leave work, so please just… be normal.”

“What do you mean be normal I can’t—”

“I gotta go. I love you. Bye.”

She hangs up the call and leaves you staring at your phone screen, contemplating how you would scape when it was so cold outside and Quinn’s already seen you so—

“Y/n? Are you playing hide and seek?”

You immediately get out of your sister’s clothes and smile awkwardly, almost opening the front door and standing in the middle of the road, waiting for someone to run you over.

“No, I—” you stutter, looking everywhere but him. “I was just… talking to my sister…”

“I see,” he says. “Is she okay? It’s snowing outside, and you’re still shivering.”

How the hell did he notice that?, you ask yourself, before nodding.

“She is, yeah. She’s working.”

You step further inside the house, walking past Quinn like he’s some type of virus. Besides the huge tree sitting in the corner by the TV, your sister’s house is poorly decorated, just like you predicted, so at least you’ll have something to busy yourself with until she arrives.

“She told me she’d work until late and she said I could come and help you out with your decorations until she and Luke arrive.” He explains, and you turn around, raising your eyebrow at him, confused.

“Luke’s coming?” You ask.

“He is, yes.”

“I thought… I thought you guys would spend Christmas with your parents.” You say, because that’s what you heard your sister saying.

“Well, they’re coming too,” he chuckles, putting his hand inside his front pockets. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No, I thought—” you start, but then you bite your lips, giving up mid-sentence. You didn’t want to sound rude by saying I thought it’d be the two of us only so you just stay quiet. “Nevermind. It’s nice that you all get to spend Christmas together.”

Quinn stares at you for a few seconds before nodding. “I’m sorry if you’re upset.”

You frown, shaking your head.

“I’m not, I promise. I just wasn’t expecting all of you,” you reply, embarrassed. “I brought my Grinch sweater…”

He laughs, and you have to stop yourself from smiling too.

“It’s okay. I’ll wear my Cindy Lou one.”

You want to yell at him and tell him to stop being nice, but you already know that’s just how he is. That’s one of the reasons you like him so much.

You look outside your sister’s big window and frown, noticing that the snow is only falling faster, and the street is white everywhere now. Even your car is barely visible.

“It’s getting ugly,” you say, pressing your lips into a line. “I hope it stops soon.”

“I don’t know about that…” he comments, sitting on the couch next to your bags. “I did see a blizzard warning in my weather app today.”

“What?” you almost shout. “Are you sure it was for today?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s why I came earlier. I thought it was dangerous for you to stay here alone.”

You want to ask him what one thing has to do with the other but you’re too busy blushing over his sentence to do anything else.

“I’d be just fine, but thank you,” you mumble. Sighing, you look down at your clothes. “I’m going to change and then start decorating.” You announce, not even sure why.

“You should probably put on something warmer,” he looks down at your clothes before running his fingers through his hair. “It’d be a shame if you caught a cold.”

You don’t say anything, just nod and make your way to your sister’s bedroom, happy that you’re both the same size. Once you find a comfort, two piece set wool outfit, you grab it and change, immediately welcoming the warmth it brings.

You also spend more time in your sister’s bedroom than you should, sitting on her bed and contemplating what you should do.

It’s not like Quinn’s a bad person or someone difficult to be around, but you get shy really easily and he happens to master the art of making you embarrassed, even if it’s not in a bad way.

He’s probably not even aware of it, too, because he’s just a really kind person and that’s just how he treats everyone he likes.

He doesn’t like us, your brain reminds you, he’s just polite.

Whatever.

You get back to the living room and find him still sitting on the couch, watching some random, Christmas movie. You reach for your bags, trying to open them as silently as you could, not wanting to disturb him.

You remove the plastic boxes full of ornaments and distribute them around you, separating them by color and size. It’s therapeutic to you, and it helps to calm your brain down.

Soon, the fact that Quinn’s in the same room as you, alone, doesn’t even cross your mind. You’re having fun decorating your sister’s empty tree, making it beautifully decorated and ready for the night.

After what’s probably thirty minutes, you reach for the last item inside your boxes, which is a bright, yellow star, heavily bedazzled. It’s been yours since you and your sister moved out of your parents’ house and you love it more than all of your other Christmas decorations combined.

The only issue is that it should sit on top of the tree, and usually it wouldn’t be a problem, because your sister had been letting you decorate her tiny tree for the past years, and you’ve been able to reach it just fine. But this year she decided that she wanted to challenge you and she bought a tall one, so now you can’t really reach the top, and you only realize it after jumping for a few minutes and not even touching the top once.

“Do you need any help?”

Quinn’s calm voice startles you, and you hold back a scream. You had forgotten that he was sitting just behind you, and probably had been watching you embarrassing yourself for the past three minutes.

You’re feeling your cheeks warm when you answer: “No, I… well. Maybe?”

He chuckles, getting up. “Does your sister have a ladder?”

“No, she doesn’t,” you roll your eyes. “She says someone as tall as her should do just fine without one.”

“I don’t understand,” he laughs. “She’s just a few inches taller than you. There’s barely a difference.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” You say, annoyed. “I can just grab a chair—”

“No, let me help you.” He walks towards you, and when you’re just about to tell him he’s not going to reach the top by himself either he does something that sends you to another world.

He picks you up effortlessly, putting you down on his left shoulder, and hands you the star like he wasn’t holding another human on one of his shoulders.

You put the star on the top of the tree, moving automatically because your brain hasn't been working properly ever since you stepped into your sister’s house.

“Are you done?” he asks, and he doesn’t even sound tired. “Do you need me to hand you anything else or—”

“No, you can… put me down, please.” You mumble, blushing as he grabs your waist and slowly pulls you down until your feet are touching the floor.

He’s standing behind you, chest glued to your back, and you hold back a yelp, stepping away like his touch is deadly.

“Uh, thanks?” It sounds like a question, but you don’t repeat it again. You turn around, watching as he smiles and nods.

“It looks great, Y/n.”

You also smile, because you always do it whenever people compliment your decorations skills. “Thanks. Again.”

“Well,” he shrugs, looking around. “What do you want to do now?”

You mimic his move, looking around your sister’s living room.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you hum. “Maybe set the table? I know it’s early but—”

“Yeah. We can definitely do that.” He starts walking towards the kitchen and you freak out.

“What!” you yell, and he stops, turning back around and looking at you with confused, pretty eyes. “I mean— what do you mean we?”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I thought I could help.”

“Are you… like… serious?” You frown.

He frowns back. “I was, yes… are you one of those people who don’t like when people try to help because you’re afraid they’ll end up messing up with your arrangements?”

“Well, yes and no,” you laugh, only to shake your head after. “But it’s not that. I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never seen a man get up to help before. Especially during Christmas.”

He seems to take a while to process what you had just said, but then he laughs, beautifully you’d say.

“They weren’t raised by Ellen Hughes, Y/n. I was.”

You smile, realizing you were utterly fucked. And not in a good way.

You and Quinn worked in silence, and even though you almost dropped the plates twice with how nervous you were, this moment will probably keep repeating itself forever inside your head, from the moment you wake up to the moment you'll go to sleep.

He’s calm and he listens to each one of your orders without hesitation, just nodding and doing as you say. He carries the heavy stuff and just lets you busy yourself with making everything pretty, which you do.

You’re about to tell him that you’re done when the TV catches your attention.

“Good evening, and Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. This is Nicholas Edwards reporting live with an urgent weather alert. It’s shaping up to be a Christmas Eve like no other—because we are in the midst of a blizzard that shows no signs of letting up anytime soon.”

“Oh my God,” you hear someone saying, and realize that it was you. You move until you’re standing in front of the TV, covering your mouth with your right hand.

“Right now, snow is coming down at an incredible rate, with visibility dropping rapidly. Winds are gusting up to 40 miles per hour, creating near whiteout conditions in many areas. And the latest forecast? The snow isn’t expected to stop until early tomorrow morning—Christmas Day! That means we’re looking at significant snowfall totals, possibly more than 18 inches in some spots.”

“Oh my God,” you repeat, looking at Quinn before looking back at the TV again.

“Officials are urging everyone to stay indoors tonight. If you don’t absolutely need to be out, don’t risk it. Roads are treacherous, power outages are a real possibility, and emergency crews are working hard to keep up.”

“What about my sister and your family?” you ask, almost rhetorically, because you know Quinn knows just as much as you. “They can’t come now because it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll try to call my parents,” he says, reaching for his phone already. “Can you call your sister, please?”

“Already doing it.” You say, dialing your sister’s number.

“So… you saw the news.” Is the first thing she says after picking up and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, Quinn and I did,” you say. “What are we going to do? It’s not safe for you to drive around and you’re definitely not driving thirty minutes back to your house in this weather.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs. “Luke and I are together, though. He saw the news before I did and drove me to his and Jack’s apartment since it’s closer to my workplace…”

“So, you’ll stay at their place?” You frown.

“What else can I do, right?” she chuckles, but you can tell she’s just as upset as you. “At least you’re stuck with the sibling that knows how to cook.”

“Hey!” You hear one of Quinn’s brothers, probably Jack, yelling in the back.

“You’re probably right,” you mumble. “Well. We’ll see each other tomorrow then?”

“‘Course we will, bubba,” she sounds joyful again. “Merry Christmas, Y/n. I love you. Tell Quinn I said Merry Christmas to him too!”

“I will,” you nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You stare at your phone screen until it turns black, and sigh. Quinn finishes his phone call and stares at you, blue, fond eyes looking at you with care.

“I guess you heard the same thing as me.” He says and you nod.

“They’re not coming.”

“And neither are my parents,” he sighs. “They’re stuck in their hotel. They’re not letting people leave.”

“God, this sucks,” you grunt, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “We don’t even have food. My sister was supposed to pick it up after she finished her shift but…”

“I’m sure I can figure something out,” Quinn says and you can tell he’s trying to sound positive. “Come on, stop pouting.”

You frown. “I wasn’t pouting.”

“Yes, you were,” he smiles. “You do that whenever something doesn’t go your way.”

“I— how do you even know that?” You ask, genuinely amused. He just shrugs and walks back to the kitchen, leaving you and your one hundred thoughts about him alone. “Quinn!”

Dinner goes well. It’s silent and calm, but not in an embarrassing, awkward way. Quinn knows how to cook really well, and his food makes you hold yourself back so you won’t kiss him.

His lips probably taste amazing, just like the rest of him. Sometimes, when your thoughts about how Quinn could make you feel good are too much, you slip your hands under your covers and touch yourself, while imagining your hands are his.

You always feel so deeply embarrassed afterwards, and it takes you a while to convince yourself that you’re not a maniac and getting horny after thinking of your sister’s boyfriend's incredibly hot brother is lowkey expected, because he looks like a God.

You both returned to your bedrooms after the clock hit midnight and you both called your families, with you sleeping in your sister’s room and Quinn sleeping in the spare bedroom.

Although, you haven’t even thought about closing your eyes and going to sleep, because you know you won’t be able to— not when Quinn has been nothing but kind to you the entire night and definitely not when he’s only two doors away from you.

You can feel your body starting to get hot, and you want to shout at it, telling yourself to let it go, because you and Quinn won’t ever be a thing.

You look at the clock sitting on your sister’s bedside table and sigh, reading the late hours. Two thirty-six a.m. and you’re nowhere near Dreamland.

Even though you’re basically at the entrance of Hornyland.

Shaking your head, you get up, deciding to brew some chamomile tea for you, since it always helps you feel sleepier and, hopefully, less horny.

The lukewarm air hits your bare thighs and you’re reminded that you’re not wearing any pants— just one of your sister’s oversized sweaters and panties.

You look around the dark house, watching as snow continues to fall outside, and make your way to the kitchen, walking past Quinn’s closed door and trying not to make any sound.

And you would’ve been successful with your task, if it weren’t for the one plastic cup that fell out of the cupboard when you tried to grab your sister’s kettle.

It fell on the floor and bounced three times before you managed to grab it again. You waited to see if you would hear Quinn’s door open, but since you didn’t, you moved on with your task. While you waited for your water to boil, you leaned against your sister’s island, resting your chin in your hand.

“I thought you were asleep.”

This time, you don’t hold back the yelp that comes out of your mouth. You were so worried about waking Quinn up that you hadn’t considered the fact that he, just like you, might as well not have been able to sleep.

He’s sitting on your sister’s couch, wearing sweatpants and nothing else, looking at you with an indecipherable expression. His entire body is illuminated by the moonlight, and he looks gorgeous.

“Quinn. You scared me,” you put your hand over your heart, feeling your cheeks warm when you realize the movement made your sweater go up, and now Quinn probably saw your underwear. “Uh—”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” he gets up, and he does look apologetic. He gets closer to where you were standing and you can help but take a take back. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “No. You?”

“I can’t either,” he says. “Too many thoughts.”

You desperately want to ask him what kind of thoughts are keeping him away from his bed, but you remember that it isn’t your place. And the best thing you can do for yourself right now is stay away from him.

“I— I’ll leave you to it then—”

“Why are you always running away from me?”

His serious tone makes you stop. You look up and stare at his eyes, looking like a child who had just been caught eating sweets before dinner.

Your answer is only natural: “I’m not?”

“Yes, you are,” he steps closer, and the distance between the two of you is now shorter. “Did I do something?”

“What?” you gasp. “No, of course not!”

“Then, you just don’t like me?”

“Gosh, why is it with the Hughes that you’re always so straightforward?” you mumble, frustrated. “I promise you, nothing’s wrong.”

“Is it because you want me to fuck you?” He raises his brow and you almost drop dead in front of him.

“What.”

It’s almost comical how your eyes double in size and how your mouth opens, just like in the cartoons. You’re trying really hard not to pack your things and leave, because you’re sure something possessed Quinn.

“I’m not dumb, y’know,” he starts. “I can tell when someone’s interested in me, and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Quinn—”

“At first,” he continues, paying you no mind. “I thought you were just shy. Then, I realized you only acted that way with me, but I thought you just didn’t like me. But…”

He lifts his hand up and caresses your cheek, the touch making you shiver instantly.

“Would someone who doesn’t like me stare at me like you do?” He keeps touching your face, the light feather touches barely there, but keeping you restless anyway. “It’s so sweet when you blush like that.”

“Quinn…” you try, once again. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I—”

“Uncomfortable?” he chuckles, like the word alone is enough to make him laugh. “No, sweetheart, you made me hard.”

You blush, thankful that the moonlight isn’t enough to show your red cheeks. “O-Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he smiles, lifting your face just slightly with his thumb on your chin. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

I thought you’d never ask, you think. “Yes,” is what you say.

His lips taste like peppermint and his touch on your skin feels like fire. He presses your body against the counter, the cold marble hitting the back of your naked thighs and making you shiver.

It was a pleasant contrast, though: the warmth of his hands holding you close with the coldness of the stone making you shiver.

He kissed you fervently and you moaned inside his mouth, forgetting your shyness and running your fingers through his silky, soft hair. It was like opening presents on Christmas morning, because ever since you were a teenager you’ve been wanting to get your hands on him and now—

“You were right,” you say, breathless. Quinn tilts his head to the side, confused. “I want you to f-fuck me.”

He smirks, mischievously, and it’s probably one of the hottest things you have ever seen.

“Here?” he asks, chuckling.

“No,” you laugh. “My sister would kill me.”

“Mhm.” It’s all he says before picking you up once again, manhandling you however he wanted for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

His bed is untouched when he lays you on it, a clear signal that he hadn’t even laid on it yet. Your sweater rode up, leaving your belly and your panties exposed.

Even though you’re not the type of girl to get embarrassed while having sex, you can feel your cheeks getting warm under Quinn’s lustful gaze. You have imagined this situation so many times before but you never actually thought your dreams would come true, so all of this is still hard for you to take in.

“I can actually hear your brain thinking, Y/n,” Quinn chuckles, standing in front of you. The outline of his dick is so noticeable it has your mouth dry.

“It’s not everyday your crush of years take you to bed,” you let out, only realising what you had just said when you watch his eyebrow going up, and a malicious smile decorate his beautiful face. “I mean—”

“Trust me, Y/n, if I hadn’t spent the last year thinking you hated me, you would’ve ended up in my bed from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

He leans forward, then starts to pull your panties down. It’s embarrassing to say the least because you know that the fabric which was once pearly, cotton white, is now transparent and ruined. Quinn doesn’t seem to mind that— in fact, the smirk on his face just continues to grow.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, and you almost choke on your own spit. “Been thinking about you for so long I’m half convinced this is just another dream.”

He drops your underwear somewhere, and places his index finger between your wet folds, the cold touch contrasting with your hotness. He rubs, up and down, slowly and steady. It has you biting your lips, hard.

“Was it like that with you too, Y/n?” he asks, tone one octave deeper. “Endless dreams of how I would fuck you senseless, leave you wet and whimpering in my sheets, pussy dripping with my cum.”

He kept getting closer to your clit each time he opened his mouth to talk, but he still wasn’t touching it, which was starting to frustrate you.

“Quinn—”

“I’d always wake up hard, with my dick throbbing inside my pants, and you know what I’d do?”

He places his finger on your engorged clit, but doesn’t do anything, just— waits.

“Ask me what I would do, Y/n.” He orders, and you moan before complying.

“What, ah, what would you do?” you ask, and he starts moving his finger again. “Ah.”

“I’d fuck my hand. Wrap my dick around them, holding it tightly, imagining it was your cunt squeezing me like that,” he confesses, opening your legs more, leaving you spread in front of him like you’re nothing but a cheap whore. “And I’d come so hard, imagining I was filling you up. In the next morning, I’d shake hands with you, watching you give me that sweet smile of yours, not even knowing that I had just used it to touch myself while imagining it was you.”

He pressed two fingers on your hole, making you clench around nothing while he seemed to be having fun with your struggle.

“Was it like that with you, too?” he asks again, but you can tell by his reaction that he wasn’t expecting you to answer. Yet, you do it anyway.

“N-not dreams,” you breathe, as he inserts two of his fingers inside you, blue eyes never leaving yours. “When I couldn’t sleep, I’d, ah, touch myself, and pretend it was you.”

“Yeah?” he hums, sinking his fingers deeper inside you, the wet sound of sex leaving you dizzy. “Such a naughty, little slut.”

You moan, and Quinn stops holding back as he starts finger fucking you, finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers up until he had you trashing under him. You took pride in knowing your body and mastering the art of touching yourself, but not even in your wildest dreams you’d imagine that having something inside you could feel this good.

You’re not even holding back your sounds, you just let Quinn hear how insane he drives you, and good you’re feeling. You have your eyes closed— because holding eye contact with Quinn might be too much for you to handle— and your boobs exposed, since your sweater rode all the way up.

You can feel your orgasm starting to build up and just when you’re about to warn Quinn about it, he pulls his fingers back, making you cry, loudly.

“Wha— why?” you sound needy and desperate but you pay it no mind.

Quinn smiles, so sweet and kind that you wouldn’t even imagine what came out of his mouth afterwards.

“You’ll come on my cock tonight, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it.”

The rest of what happens is basically history.

He removes his sweatpants and his dick hits his stomach, the tip almost purple with how red it was. The precum leaking from it made you lick your lips, imagining how good it would feel to have that in your mouth.

He throws the pants somewhere, and lays on top of you, right in the middle of your spread thighs. He looks down and holds his dick, rubbing it up and down on your folds, mixing your wetness with his, and just the view is almost enough to make you come.

He rubs the tip on your clit, and you watch as your swollen, needy button throbs under the nasty touch, and how your pussy leaves his dick glistening with how wet you were.

“I’ll fuck you now, okay?” His voice is calm, and soft, different from previously. You nod, smiling shyly. “Words, baby.”

“‘Mkay,” you answer, closing your eyes as he inserts himself inside you, slowly.

You can feel your walls opening up for him, and even though you’ve had sex before, nothing will ever top this. He’s thick, and you can feel him everywhere, deeper and deeper.

“Holy shit, Quinn,” you say, turning your hands into fists.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he hisses, putting his hands on each side of your face. “Squeezing me so good, fuck, Y/n, I might come in seconds if you keep squeezing me like that.”

He removes his dick from you, leaving just the tip, only to slam it back in you, fucking you senseless, just like he told you. The smell of sex and sweat filled the room almost as quick as the tears fell from your eyes, the feeling of finally getting what— or who— you wanted making you cry tears of joy.

He kept fucking you, and once his lips found yours once again, you knew you were done. You came on his dick, like he said you’d do, moaning inside his mouth and pulling his hair, harshly.

“Fuck, Quinn, uh,” you inhaled his scent as his naked body engulfed yours completely. “Fuck, fuck.”

“It’s like you were made to, uh, take my cock,” he grunts, his thrusts getting sloppier, a clear sign that he was about to come. “Say it, baby, tell me what you were made for.”

“Quinn—”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“I was made to take y-your cock,” you sob. “O-only yours.”

“Only mine?” you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Only yours.”

“Good,” thrust, “Girl.” Thrust.

He takes his dick out of you just a few seconds before he comes, and the loss of it makes you whimper and hide your face in his neck. The warm feeling of his come against your used, swollen cunt is enough to get another orgasm out of you, even if a little bit weaker this time.

You both stay silent, only the sounds of your breaths filling up the room. The weight of his body on top of you is comforting, and even though you know he’s not putting all of his weight on top of you, you feel safe either way.

“Thank you,” you mumble, barely audible, since your face is still in his neck.

He chuckles, breathless. “What are you saying thank you for, baby? I should be the one saying thank you.”

“You just made all of my wet dreams come true,” you explain. “Even if we’re probably going to hell because no one should be having sex on Christmas.”

Quinn laughs and rolls to the side, resting his head on the pillow. “Touché, sweetheart, touché,” he turns his head to the side and looks at you. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Quinny.”

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist.

[crtter]

I added a shortened version of this on tags but I think it’s better as a full comment: People who are fighting in the notes. Please. The point of OP’s post isn't that Polish people aren't allowed to be mad to be mistaken for German or Russian because they’ve been both under German and Russian occupation. The point is that a LOT of people who take offense with their country being mistaken for countries they’ve historically been at odds with don’t find it an issue when the same thing is done to people from Asian and African countries.

Like, as any European knows very well, just because countries are geographically close to each other, might have some overlapping cultural aspects and sometimes even speak the same language, it doesn’t mean they haven’t clashed against each other in the past and insisting that people are “just the same” as people who have historically oppressed them just due to proximity and (sometimes just perceived) cultural similarities is equally as tone-deaf, no matter which country or continent we’re talking about.

For example, westerners often confuse or lump China, Korea and Japan together under having similar cuisines, culture, etc. to the point where “Asian restaurants” are a thing. But both China and Korea were colonized by the Japanese during its colonial empire era, and it’s a sensitive topic in all three of those countries to this day. People of Korean descent born in Japan couldn’t both be registered under Korean names and have Japanese citizenship until 1987. That’s the same year Dirty Dancing was in theaters. The same year Whitney Houston released I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me).

Similarly, Africa is very, very often thought and spoken of as a “country” instead of a continent with a single culture and identity, when it’s actually comprised of 54 different countries and around 3000 different ethnic groups. If you tell, for example, a Somali person that they’re indistinguishable from Ethiopians to you, they’re very likely not going to be very pleased as Somalia and Ethiopia have clashed over Ethiopian expansion over Somali territory since the 12th century! The last time there has been armed conflict over it? 2006. In 2006, you could already have Twitter and Facebook accounts and play games on the Nintendo Wii.

I’m not saying you have to know the historical relationships between every single country and cultural/religious/ethnic group in the world. Just be, like, sensible. If the thought of your country or an identity of yours being dismissed as being “the same thing” as a people who have oppressed, waged wars against or interacted in any violent manner towards your ancestors or you upsets you, just know that people feel the same all over the world. If you want to talk about some cultural element that you know comes from a place in a certain continent but not the exact country, look it up. Do a bit of research. Does it take more effort than to generalize? Of course. But if being considerate was completely effortless, there wouldn’t be nearly as many assholes in the world.

Good double feature here

[mxrcurysb1tch]

🍸🦎Astrology placement observations pt 2.🦎🍸

Disclaimer: these are my observations based on people I know irl and resources I have found. If you don’t agree you’re entitled to that opinion but don’t come at me xo

☿ In my experience, there are 2 kinds of libra moons. The kind that is kind of cartoon character-ish. Bubbly, fun, very sociable. Kind of exaggerated in their expressiveness. The kind that is bubbling with positive energy and could not hide their emotions if they tried. Then there is the other kind that is not talked about so much. These are much more introverted and harmonious. I would say they are equally likeable as the typical presentation of libra moons but they either don't care to have as many friends or just keep to themselves more. They have a much softer, sensual vibe kind of like taurus or cancer in a way. They are fairly in-tune with their emotions, albeit in a pretty detached, intellectual way. They tend to be quieter but still have a very pleasing aura to be around. One thing I will say that is pretty common with all Libra moons is that although they are pretty romantic, they are rarely satisfied with committing to one partner and will have many relationships or flings throughout their young adulthood as they want to experience the many facets that the dating world has to offer.

☿ An Aries/libra interception in the placidus chart can create great struggles with the self and relating to others. They struggle to express and assert themselves, and with having clearly defined boundaries between themselves and others. Usually, in childhood they struggle most in relationships with other people and may be unintuitive with social cues even if they desperately want to be accepted and have friends. This is not as apparent into adulthood as they have likely learnt, through trial and error, how to make friends and be liked. Although this is not usually through conventional means of intuition and more through an intellectual stance. Whereas in childhood they may have had a stronger sense of self, in adulthood this starts to suffer more. I think a desperate questioning of the self in an attempt to find what distinguishes them from other people and makes them uniquely "themselves" is common. These individuals can be susceptible to people pleasing tendencies as they can sometimes feel like whenever they try to assert themselves it is taken the wrong way and so they have to appease everyone and say exactly what others want to hear in order to be accepted. It is a delicate balance between selfishness and selflessness that they have to achieve.

☿ Pisces moons are a lot more grounded than people give them credit for. They usually have pretty solid ambitions and they don’t waste time striving for them. They are full of optimistic energy so they don’t have a problem with believing they are capable of achieving whatever it is they want. They approach life with a very “go with the flow” attitude. And it is precisely this attitude that allows them to easily succeed as they are pretty much okay with anything that comes along in the material world. They are also usually pretty good at a lot of different things.

☿ Venus retrograde in the natal chart can struggle with self-care and believing they are worth being cared for. They may either be less interested in romantic relationships or they can have tumultuous love lives, unless venus is well aspected. This is because they might believe they should just put up with unkind behaviour simply because they love someone. They tend to either have many different romantic relationships or stay in the same one for years and years even at a very young age. They can be pretty messy even dirty sometimes and have a boring or unconventional aesthetic style. They may be less adventurous in artistic pursuits than most people. They can be prone to copying others aesthetically as they are unsure how to express this part of themselves externally.

☿ Virgo mercuries are usually very direct and even a bit bossy in communication but even so, it is usually well received by other people as they do it in a way that is inoffensive and kind of playful. This kind of approach may not be pulled off so well by other mercury signs.

☿ Sagittarius moons and mercuries are great conversationalists. They are very funny and can strike up a conversation with anyone about anything. Sag moons especially appreciate a good sense of humor and can bring out the funny side of people. They can seem a bit tiresome at times as their propensity to debate from even sides they don’t even necessarily agree with can be grating. They don’t do this to be annoying though, they’re simply interested in finding out about how people think and stretching an argument to its limits in order to confirm or deny its validity.

Merry Christmas! X

[sinstear]

ㅤ❝ I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY AND ONCE A WEEK FOR YOU ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpairing. milf!abby x mechanic!reader

masterlist. warnings. 18+, sub!abby, dom!reader, milf!abby, mechanic!reader, dirty talk (a lot of it, oops), fingering, strap usage, abby just being a needy brat, breeding kink, there’s probably more a/n. merry christmas gays <3 this is a small installation to the milf!abby au me and @vifilms have created. if it’s a little confusing on the jump, don’t worry, you’ll get more parts explaining their relationship before or whatever soon. happy holidays, and if you don’t celebrate it, i hope you all have a blessed day either way <3

milf!abby who doesn’t hesitate to text you when it comes down to her friends having a small get-together, her first instinct was to ask you to come with her, and she was a little too giddy and excited when you replied with ‘of course, more time to spend with a pretty lady’ what she would never admit was that she spent an ungodly amount of minutes looking at your reply, apples of her cheeks crimson red before she replied with her own ‘sounds good, can’t wait to see you’ unaware that on the other side of town, you were already rummaging around in your closet, trying to find something perfect enough, that will go with whatever she picks, to wear. apart from ripped jeans, t-shirts, and a few jackets, you were at a loss. confused on what to wear to a small party with people who would dress up a little more … sophisticated-like. the bright colors, the pretty pearls. that wasn’t you. you were content with your hoodies, your jeans, your button-up shirts, and sweatpants. not what they love to wear.

milf!abby can’t focus the second you walk through the door that same night, dressed in a pair of jeans, heavy boots paired with a white shirt, and a jacket. she’s seen you in nothing but a tank top, oil and grease covering your arms, and even then you looked hot working on her car every day, you looked ethereal and more handsome tonight. abby doesn’t know how to react when she finds you talking to some of her friends, offering to help if they need it, seconds later. she thinks it’s kind that you are offering even though you were a guest. one of the many things she adores about you. always wanting to help.

milf!abby drags you away from the party not even 15 minutes later. her hands cupping your face, while yours are instantly pulling down the dress she was wearing, down over her shoulders, and bunching it around her hips as you cup both her tits and squeeze them in the palm of your hands, the second she pulls you into the bathroom. the soft sounds of her whines and whimpers fill the echoed room while you simply grin against her neck, pinching and pulling at her hard pebbled nipples. her head rests against the bathroom door, the whimpers tumbling from her shamelessly has you growling into her neck and slipping your leg between her thigh. a sinister grin appearing on your lips at her sudden gasp, wrapping her arm around your neck and holding you to her. “i bet if i put my hand up your dress right now, you’re gonna be soaked, hm?” you muttered against her flushed skin. “don’t even have to tell me, i know.” your mocking words had abby’s heart pounding in her chest, cunt clenching around nothing and cheeks flushed while she nods desperately. “love your tits so much, so fuckin’ pretty”

milf!abby’s eyes roll back in her head when you’re placing your hand over her mouth, muffling the sounds thats dripping from between her cherry red swollen lips as you bury your fingers deep in her cunt, groaning softly under your breath at the way she clenches around you tightly. “you know how much i love to hear you, but you gotta be quiet f’me, sweetheart, hm?” you coo, kissing away the tears streaking her face. “i know you can do it, don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

“m’sorry, just feels s’good.” abby whimpered against your hand, voice hitching when the palm of your hand rubbed against her neglected clit. fingers clutching at your crumpled shirt, knuckles white with the sheer iron grip she has on you. it makes you laugh, making her whine with a deeper blush knowing just how fucking needy she is. needy for you to touch her, making a mess of her, and have her weak in the knees. you only have to look at her, and she’s begging for you.

“yeah, i can tell, practically soaking my hand.”

that just makes abby clench around you harder. 

milf!abby clings to you for dear life and whimpers loudly into your neck when she gushes all over your fingers minutes later, slick running down the inners of her thigh and another whimper is ripped from her throat as you gently pull your fingers out of her cunt, bringing those fingers straight to your mouth with a grin. her pupils dilate more, if that’s even possible when you wrap your lips around them and suck. the moan you let out at the taste of her, has her rubbing her thighs together again. an action that you don’t miss. “taste just as sweet as last night, sweetheart.” you hummed with a cheeky grin, leaned forward, and kissed the side of her mouth. laughing at her whine. “patience, baby. just a little longer, and i promise, you can have my cock later.”

milf!abby is pathetic and whiny when you’ve finally got her bent over the sink, dress still bunched over her hips, panties in your back pocket for a keepsake, and she can’t hold back on those sounds you love to hear so much when your cock is deep inside her cunt. stretching her out perfectly, like her pussy was made for you. you could tell she was struggling to keep it down, not wanting her friends to hear. you on the other hand, were crazy. you wouldn’t care at all if they heard the pretty sounds you were pulling from her with each thrust of your hips. 

“wish i could feel you” you groaned, hands iron grip on her hips, pulling her back and down on your cock. your eyes dropping to shamelessly watching the way her cunt practically sucks your strap back inside of her. only for your eyes to snap up at the soft whine to find abby with her head buried in the bend of her elbow, trying to muffle her sounds. “lemme hear you, baby, yeah?” you cooed, tangling your fingers into her soft blonde locks and pulled her head back carefully. “yeah, you look so pretty like this” you smirked at her through the mirror. “look so sexy while i split you open on my cock.”

abby wasn’t sure whether to look at you or herself. her hair was disheveled, her light makeup ruined, cheeks flushed, hips bruised due to your grip, and her lips all red and swollen. if you both walked out of the bathroom now, everyone would know. they would all know what happened, and maybe that excites abby a little because her cunt clenches around your cock, gasps, and jolts against the mirror when you’re removing your hand from her hip, to reach down between her legs and rub light circles on her clit. “just needed to have all your worries and thoughts fucked out that pretty head of yours hm? don’t worry, sweetheart, m’gonna fuck you until you can barely remember your own name.”

the blonde opens her mouth to reply, brain completely empty and cheeks flushed darker red if that’s even possible, but her attempt at trying to reply to your words fail when you angle your hips just perfectly, your cock is deliciously rubbing that spot deep inside her and abby’s hand is quick to slip between her legs and rub circles on her clit with you. “fuck, fuck, right there, please please—” her voice breaks and her head slumps against her mirror, her breath fogging up the glass. “i need—”

“what do you need, hm baby? need me to fuck you until you can’t walk? mark you up? show everyone you’re mine?” you listed, groaning against her neck and fucking her hard, rubbing her clit faster. “need me to fill you up, s’that what you need? fill you up and make you a mama?”

“yes! yes yes, please—” abby’s chokes out, a little too late to warn you or barely registers a warning as her body tenses beneath you and gushes over your cock with a loud gasped whimper that has you putting your mouth over her mouth, not wanting her friends to know what was happening, even if it was something you so badly wanted deep down. “oh—” she sighs against your hand, eyes fluttering closed again as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm.  

“me saying i wanna make you a mama did it for you, huh?” you laughed against her ear, your breath fanning her skin hotly as you ran your nose up and down her neck. enjoying the way she lifts her head up and looks at you through the mirror. completely fucked out. only for you to groan softly when she’s pushing back against you with a whine. “sweetheart,”

“wanna make you cum” 

“later, you can do whatever you want”

milf!abby can’t avoid the grins and smirks her friends give her when you both finally make your way back downstairs to find them in the kitchen. they wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact that abby was patting down her hair, fixing her dress. or you, in all your glory, were butting up your shirt, not caring at all that they were grinning your way. “have fun, abby?” one teased, eyeing up the marks on her neck. “it looks like you guys both had a lot of fun”

glaring at her friend, abby simply huffed, wrapped her arm around yours and scowled. “stop it!” she mumbled, trying to hide the obvious blush coating her face. while you, being a shit, were just laughing softly against her head. “don’t encourage them!”

“m’not doing anything” you grinned, hand slipping down to her lower back and kissing behind her ear. a place you know that always has her melting in your hands. “you don’t have to tell me you had fun, the sounds you were making are enough for me to know, sweetheart.” you whispered in her ear before walking away into the kitchen. that stupid fucking smirk, a smirk she loves a little too much, resting on your lips.

milf!abby who cannot wait until this little party is over so that she can go home and hold you up on your promise of letting her do whatever she wants to do to you. for the time being, she’s just going to have to sit there and let her friends tease her about the sounds that were coming from the bathroom, and ignoring the way you simply looked at her, slumped between two of her friends, legs spread with a beer in your hand and a grin on your face each time she would grow redder at their constant teasing. she just needed to get this party out of the way so she could have you all to herself once again, free to do whatever she wanted, and you were excited, to say the least. 

[stargazsblog]

how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.1 the bet

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: hi guys! this is the first chapter and I'm so excited this is just about how the bet starts nothing crazyyyy YET… i can’t wait to write more! merry christmas!! <3

masterlist

“I still don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” you muttered, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. The muffled thump of bass from inside the house was enough to make your ears ring, even from a distance. The faint smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer mixed with the crisp winter breeze, making you wrinkle your nose.

“Because,” Shoko said, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Deep down, you know you’ll have fun if you let yourself.” she grinned at you.

You side-eye her, “Have fun?, this is a party of drunk idiots I have to pretend I like.”

“Don't be dramatic.” Shoko rolled her eyes, patting your shoulder as she let you go. ”You spend too much time brooding alone in your dorm, anyway.”

“I call it peace,” you shot back, but Shoko was already halfway up the stairs.

The door swung open before either of you could reach it. A group of boys tumbled out, laughing and shouting, nearly knocking you over in the process. You stepped aside just in time, muttering a curse under your breath

The heat of the crowded house hit you immediately. The air was thick, almost suffocating, with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and overly sweet perfume. Bodies pressed together as people danced to the relentless beat of the music.

“Come on, let's get a drink,” she said, grabbing your wrist and leading you towards the kitchen. You stuck close to her, pushing past people in the crowd and avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“This is a disaster,” you muttered as you reached the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Shoko handed you a bottle of water before pouring herself something that smelled suspiciously strong.

“It's just a party,” she replied.

As she took a sip, she leaned against the counter, her eyes scanning the room again. “There he is,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Your gaze followed hers, landing on a familiar figure sprawled out on the couch in the corner of the living room. Ryomen Sukuna.

He was sitting on the couch like he owned the place, his long legs stretched out, one arm casually draped over the back of the sofa. He was wearing a white shirt, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the toned muscles underneath. His eyes scanned the room with practiced boredom, like none of it was worth his time.

A girl was sitting on his lap, twirling her hair around her finger and giggling as if he’d just told her the funniest joke in the world. She leaned closer, whispering something in his ear, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, his gaze drifted and then locked onto yours.

He grinned, a slow, cocky smirk that made something in your chest tighten not with attraction, but with irritation. It was the kind of grin that said he knew exactly the effect he had on people and loved to watch them crumble under it. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Caught you staring

As you looked away, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. But you didn’t turn back. You weren’t interested.

“Great,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your water bottle. “Now I have to burn this memory from my brain.”

Shoko laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to admit, he’s hot.”

“He’s insufferable.”

“Hot and insufferable. The best combination.”

“I’ll leave right now.” you turned heel, but Shoko grabbed your arm, stopping you from your track.

“Relax, I’m just teasing you.”

Your jaw tightened, but you stayed put, watching as Sukuna leaned back even further, his eyes still fixed on you. The girl on his lap pouted, clearly annoyed at his lack of attention, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I hate him,” you muttered under your breath. The words came out bitter, but they were true. “Did I mention that before?”

“Yeah, like hundreds of times,” She replied, laughing “You really hate him, huh?”

“I just don’t get how people fall for his act,” you said.

Shoko shrugged. “Like I said, he’s hot. People like hot.”

“Hot doesn’t excuse being an asshole,” you murmured, crossing your arms. “What’s his deal, anyway? Does he just sit there all night waiting for people to grovel at his feet?”

“Pretty much,” Shoko said with a shrug. “But he’s good at it. Watch.”

As if on cue, another girl approached him, drink in hand. She leaned down, her lips close to his ear as she said something you couldn’t hear. Sukuna smirked, his attention finally shifting away from you, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? he’s harmless,” Shoko said.

“Harmless,” you repeated, your voice with sarcasm. “Sure.”

“You know, you’re the only one who doesn’t fall for his charm.”

“Good,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I’m not about to start. I don’t need someone like him in my life.”

“You gonna keep her there all night?” Suguru asked, nodding towards the girl on Sukuna’s lap.

Sukuna smirked tilting his head back. “why not? She's comfortable here.” the girl giggled again, clearly tipsy, but Sukuna's attention has already wandered. His eyes scanned the room lazily, taking in the usual suspect, drunk athletes, and the occasional out-of-place loner. Until it landed on you.

You stood in the kitchen, keeping your distance from the chaos, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. Your eyes roamed over the room, observing, until they met his. He caught you looking, and a smirk tugged at his lips. When you quickly looked away, he let out a low chuckle.

His friends noticed this.

“You’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes, what’s the deal?” Geto voice cut thought Sukuna’s thoughts, and he glanced over at his friend.

“I’m not staring,” Sukuna retorted smoothly, his tone laced with nonchalance as he effortlessly lifted the girl off his lap. She let out an irritated groan, before stalking off in a huff. “Just observing,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Geto teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the way you're staring at her, that’s not the ‘I’m observing’ look you usually give what’s going on with you.”

Sukuna’s gaze flickered to you once more. “She’s different,” He had noticed you around campus—the way you never spared him a second glance when you passed by, completely unaffected by his presence. Once, he’d even tried to strike up a conversation, but you had brushed past him without so much as acknowledging him, as though he were invisible.

Gojo chuckled “Different? Dude, that girl is the only one who doesn’t drool over you.”

Sukuna’s lip curled into a sly grin. “So what?”

“So,” Suguru continues, crossing his arms, leaning against the couch. “you’ve never met a girl who doesn’t fall for your charm, right? You’ve been with everyone but her? she couldn’t care less.”

Gojo snorted. “And she’s probably the only one on campus. That’s gotta sting.”

Sukuna scoffed, leaning forward slightly. “Please. She is probably playing hard to get.”

Geto exchanged a glance with Gojo, and then a mischievous grunt flashed his eyes. “All alright, how about we make this interesting? We give you ten days.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, “Ten days?’

“Yeah,” he said with a sly smile “Ten days you make her fall in love with you.”

Sukana let out a short laugh, but the challenge already sounded fun to him. He never was the type to back down from a game. “You think I need ten days?”

Suguru shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “It’d be easier if it were any other girl. But this one… she’s too—what’s the word? Stubborn. Definitely not into guys like you,” he said, “She won’t be an easy win. That’s what makes it interesting, though.”

Satoru chimes in “Yeah, man. You can’t just use your looks and charm this time. You’re gonna have to actually work for it.”

Sukana's eyes flicked back to you for a split second. You were standing there unaware of the conversation that was happening a few feet away from you. “Ten days huh?” he murmured.

“Ten days” Gojo repeated. “And if you fail you lose. It's as simple as that.”

His expression turned darker, the idea of him not winning seemed unthinkable. He wasn’t just going to prove them wrong he was going to show them that no one could resist him.

Gojo leaned back, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, glancing at Sukuna. “You can't be seen with other girls. It’s gotta look real, after all.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted slightly, an eyebrow raised in silent challenge. “You think I need rules to make this work?” he asked.

Geto gave a small nod. “It’s just to make sure no one gets suspicious. You’ll need to actually put in the effort.”

Sukuna smirked, unfazed. “Fine. I’ll play by your rules, but don’t expect me to go easy on her.”

Ten days to make you fall for him. The girl who wouldn’t give him the time of the day. The girl who didn’t care about his reputation. The girl who has no idea what was coming for her.

Unknowingly, you had already been pulled into his game.

“You think his shirt could be any tighter,” Shoko muttered, nodding towards a guy who was flexing across the room.

You snorted. “Pretty sure it's painted on.” leaning against the kitchen counter. Shoko grinned at your words, sipping from her cup.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, you leaned against the counter sipping on your water. Shoko perched on the edge of the sink, swinging her legs as she talked. You were nodding and listening to the story she was telling you. You hear a group of people walking in the kitchen, their laughter loud and careless. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. The weight of his presence pressed into the room like a rebound heartbeat. Ryomen Sukuna.

His graze swept the kitchen, it lingered on you for a moment too long, and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Shoko,” one of his friends called out, his tone playful, but almost teasing. “Come help us with something. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and them. “Fun, huh? i doubt it.”

“It’s better than being stuck in here,” another white-haired friend chimed in.

She rolled her eyes but slid off the counter anyway, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said with a wink before following them out of the kitchen. And then, it was just you and him.

Great.

Sukuna didn't say anything, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as he leaned against the counter across from you.

“Guess it’s just us now,” he said finally his voice low and smooth.

You didn't look up, keeping your focus on your drink “Lucky me,” you replied, your tone dry.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and deep. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

When you finally glanced up, he was much closer than you’d expected. His tall frame leaned casually against the counter opposite you. Up close, the details of his features were almost overwhelming—the sharp line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips that formed an infuriatingly smug smirk, and the mess of his hair falling carelessly over his forehead. You couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wanted to. He was hot—like, really hot.

“You’re not exactly the first guy to try this,” you said coolly, taking another sip from your drink, your gaze steady as you met his.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Try what?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re doing right now,” you replied, “the whole brooding, mysterious thing. It’s not as original as you think.”

He laughed at that, his head tilting back just enough to expose the line of his throat. It wasn’t often that people spoke to him like this, you realized. Most would have thrown themselves at him.

“You’re sharp,” he said, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. The scent of him hits you. “I like that,” he added, his voice low, a hint of approval in his tone as his gaze lingered on you.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by him. “And I don’t care.”

He paused not being he was offended, but because he wasn’t used to being dismissed, even by someone who didn't so much flinch under his gaze.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Most people would kill to be in your position right now,” his tone quieter now, almost intimate, as his eyes locked onto yours.

You smirked, setting your drink on the counter behind you. “Then maybe you should go find ‘most people,’” you replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.”

The silence hung in the air. Sukuna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then slowly, his gaze dipped to your lips. The smirk on his face faltered just slightly as if he was plotting something in his mind, before it returned—sharper, more amused.

“You’re different,” he murmured finally, his voice low, the words lingering in the air as his gaze stayed fixed on your lips, the tension between you growing with each passing second.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked.

“Take it however you want,” he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, his gaze still lingering on your lips as if he was waiting for your next move.

His gaze made it hard to look away. But you forced yourself to break the connection, turning your focus elsewhere. You weren’t sure what Sukuna was trying to do—charm you, challenge you, or maybe a little of both.

“I’m not interested in you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, your tone firm, making sure he knew you weren’t fazed by his presence.

He tilted his head, his smirk fading for a moment. He just looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if he were trying to read you.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice low and confident, before turning and walking out.

You let out a slow breath, the heat of his presence lingering in the air. Sukuna wasn’t used to being ignored, and for him, that only made you more of a challenge.

But you weren’t here to play his game.

At least, that’s what you thought.

taglist: @clp-84 @ssetsuka @lymsfm @monic19 @bol0-de-morang0 @strxberryicecream @r0ckst4rjk @gojocumslut @elliebelliegi @kazuuhali @luna-v-roiya @sussiesushi @nakiich @mourart7 @neuvilletteswife4ever @rusted-dolly @blueyesuguru @lillycore @yourhornysister @bnbaochauuu

[umadosedepascal]

DIRTY HOLIDAY | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | One Shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You go with friends spend the holidays in Mexico, such a coincidence to be at the same resort as Pedro. What a world, so small huh?

wc: 3.7k

rating/warnings: [little surprising plot] [Pedro being Pedro][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption] [Curse words]

a/n: C’MON GUYS. Do I need to explain myself after yesterday pictures and videos? NO. FUCKING HELL NO. wtf Pedro.. WHY is he so fucking hot??? WTF. 😭

You are going with your friends to Mexico to spend the holidays this year. It was a tough decision to make because you always spend the holidays with family, but this time you decided to try something new away from home since your whole family always judges you. Your dad always comes to you saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot, my baby; slow down…”

All you want to say is that you are a grown woman and do whatever you want, but every year you keep behaving as an angel to them.

You and your girlfriends get on the airplane on the 24th, heading to Mexico for 2 weeks.

All of you are very excited and feeling some freedom in the air.

“Hell yeah, the first thing we get there will be a round of tequila shots… you gotta deal with me…” and your friends laugh with your sassy attitude.

A promise is a promise. You check in, change to your bikinis, and go to the bar by the pool.

“Hey buddy, 3 shots of tequila, por favor?”

The barman looks at you with half-closed eyes. “ID first, my ladies; you look under 18…”

Although you are all over 27, actually, you three hand your IDs on the counter and look around the pool waiting for your drinks.

One of your friends comes to you and says, “Hey, isn’t that guy from….”

Your jaw drops, your legs start trembling and shaking, trying to hold on to something and not to fall… “YES?”

Pedro is lying down on a sun chair in red shorts, drips of water are running down to his bare chest, and he is really deep into a book.

“I need my shot RIGHT NOW!” You say loudly to your friends, trying to compose yourself at the same time.

They know you have a crush on him and talk nonstop about his work, so this is going to be a wild trip if you get to meet him even for a second.

“Second round is on me; let’s do it,” one of your friends says.

All you can think about is him. You don’t stop to look in his direction and try to plan how to approach without being a silly, stupid, drunk idiot.

The most down-to-earth friend of yours tries to calm you down, saying that you will have your chance, etc., but you are so far away in your thoughts that you ask for a large margarita and tell them you're going to take a sun chair as close as possible to him and see what happens.

“You crazy! But yeah, good luck; I hope he’s not a dick with you…” one of them tells you, hopeless, not trying to hurt your feelings.

“Dick? Yeah, I want some dick… You laugh, already buzzed, walking towards the chair right next to his.

As long as you get near him, by himself, still deep into the book.

You already worked up the courage and asked, “Hi, is this chair taken?”

He gives a side eye, looking at you from head to toe. “No darling, all yours…”

As you sit on the chair, you can hear your friends from the bar cheering like party animals.

You look at him saying, “Jeez, these people know how to party, huh?” Hoping he didn’t see you before taking shots with them a few moments ago.

“Yeah, yeah… young people... having their time…” he says with a smooth voice.

You feel relief because he didn’t see you before with them and anxious at the same time because YES, you could start a chit chat with him.

“Erm, yeah…” You don’t know how to keep this going and pick anything that you find inside your ecobag just to create other possible ways to talk.

Lay down on the chair, put on your Ray-Bans, and open the FUCKING MAP of the resort.

Jesus, what am I doing? Should I say I know him? Should I just ask what he is reading or maybe wait for another brief comment coming from him?

You can see by the side of your eye that from time to time he looks at you, but very, very fast, you just hold that giant map, feeling like you're on mushrooms with empty thoughts on your mind.

You’ve got your friends getting drunk and cheering for you from the bar and the hottest guy in the world by your side.

Think wisely…

You grab your drink from the side table and sip it.

“Is that good?” He asks you.

Pretending like you got scared, almost dropping the fancy glass on the floor… “Did you just.. talk to me? Um, well, I had better ones. But this one isn’t bad at all…” you describe your drink with a shy smile.

What the fuck did I say???

He chuckles, closing his book and now sitting down on the chair.

“Hm... 3-star review? I’m getting one myself; I like cheap stuff.”

You simply just give a “ha” to him as he stands up and walks towards the bar.

Your friends get wild; at this point, they might think he is going to talk to them for sure.

You immediately look at them trying to mimic something like, “Nooooo, noooooo, don’t say shit, you motherfuckers!!!”

You are in a panic because you know them and what they are capable of, especially under alcohol influence.

But they understand wrong; they know you always need a hand in terms of trying to flirt with someone else.

You see one of them approach him, saying something and looking at you at the same time.

You are screwed up. You know.

The only thing you can do now is wait for your end, getting big gulps of your drink and trying to calm down.

He comes back with a wild smile on his face saying, “I just met your friends over there; they told me things... you don’t need to hide anything…”

You sit down quickly. “What? Hahaha, they… They are buzzed; don’t believe in what they say…”

He keeps looking at you with half-closed eyes. “Hmm,” he sits on his chair sipping his drink and says, “Yeah, it’s not that bad at all…”

You simply don’t talk for some moments; your anxiety is building up like a pressure cooker.

Until then… “Hey Pedro… I’m sorry… I just wanted to say hi, but I’m already drunk, and I don’t know how to start a proper conversation. They probably told you I’m a sucker for you… and the ‘dick’ thing as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a stalker; I don’t want to bother you. I just think you're awesome, and it was a stupid idea to come over right here, right now.” You run over words.

“Wow, wow, wow, they just told me to be nice to you, haha, because you care... about me.” Pointing to himself.

After you say all that with a flushed cheek, you let out a loud laugh looking at your friends that are already out of sight. You get more desperate saying sorry a million times, trying to compose yourself.

“What more did they say?”

“That you are awesome and know everything about my stuff, but with moderation… I don’t know what they meant, but yeah, I just didn’t catch your name…"

You tell him your name with eyes open and disbelief that your friends, for the first time, did a good job, but not you… not you.

“What’s the dick thing you told me?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Aaah, nothing… being a dick… that’s it.” You say, looking to the ground with shame.

He grabs you by the chin and says, “I would never be a dick to a beautiful girl like you…”

You feel a shiver down to your spine when he touches you like that.

Oh shit…I’m already wet without even getting into the pool.

“I, I think I need to… brb…” You leave everything behind and go straight to the toilet, locking the door and sitting there.

Breathe in, breathe out.Ok, I will just grab my stuff and disappear…What did I do?

As soon as you open the door, Pedro is there waiting…

“I usually don’t do things like that; it can be the vibe, my drinks, or even Xmas. I don’t know…” He says, grabbing your hips, pushing you back to the toilet, and closing the door behind him.

“Is that what you wanted? hm" He rubs his beard on your face, searching for your mouth.

He guides your hands to his growing bulge while running his right hand from behind you, rubbing one finger over your pussy.

You moan when he rubs his finger roughly against you…

“So wet already for me…” he says in between sloppy kisses.

“Since the moment I spotted you here, yeah…” you whisper, with both hands stroking his cock over the shorts…

Then Pedro takes you slowly to the sink and sits you there, spreading your legs…“Let me see what you got, beautiful… spread more…” putting your bikini bottom aside and lowering to the same level.

You grab his wet hair with one hand while he tongue darts you deep, sucking your lips and moaning low with pleasure…

You don’t even blink, just looking down at him savoring you, such a tease.

No fucking way this is happening…

You can feel his nose rubbing against your clit; you are getting close to the edge, but suddenly people knock at the door…

“Oh dammit…” You murmur disappointedly.

Pedro stops his worship on you and tells you with a low voice, “My room isn't far... want to see what naughty presents Santa has for you?" His fingers trace small patterns on your thighs, making you shiver.

“But we need to be discreet… What’s your room number? I meet you there…”

Pedro chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Discreet, huh? I like the way you think." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, "Room 217, second floor."

Luckily nobody is at the door anymore, so you sneak out the toilet.

You try to find your girls just to quickly freak out and disappear again, but there's no sign of them.

You come back to the pool area, and Pedro isn’t there anymore; you bite your lip, get a deep breath, take your stuff, and go towards the elevator.

Room 217

You knock twice.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing Pedro standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He's holding a bottle of tequila and two glasses. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

Stepping aside to let you in, he whispers suggestively, "Merry Christmas to me, indeed." He gently shut the door behind you, his free hand trailing down your arm. "Hope you like tequila..."

“Hm, yeah, better be careful… right?

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the memory. "Ah, but that was just a sample of what I can do sober. Imagine what I'm capable of now, all loosened up." Doing a little dance…

Then he pours two generous glasses of tequila, sliding one towards you before picking up his own. "I've got a list of naughty things I want to do with you..."

Oh, he wants to play a game…I’m just gonna faint 😮‍💨

“Oh… tell me more…” You push him to the sofa, sitting on his lap.

A deep, sexy chuckle escapes his lips as he lets you push him onto the sofa, his hands immediately finding your curves. "Mmm, you're being a naughty girl..." He takes a sip of his tequila, then offers you the glass. "You first."

“My list? With you... it is an extensive list. Better you tell me yours first…”

Pedro leans back into the sofa, a confident smirk playing on his lips as his hands continue their exploration of your body. "Well, since you asked..." He takes another sip of tequila, his eyes never leaving yours.

The motherfucker is a tease; I knew it… I knew it!!!

His hands wander up and down your body possessively as he continues. "I want to see those perfect lips wrapped around my... gifts." He punctuates his words with a gentle bite to your neck.

"Then I want you bent over this fireplace mantel while I take you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.” His fingers trailed along your waistband suggestively.

“Wow…You really don’t waste time on your list, huh?” You start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as he sees you unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and abs one button at a time. He helps you finish the job, tossing his shirt aside. "Guess not..." He growls, pulling you closer.

Pedro's lips curled into a wicked smile as you slowly head down towards his chest, his hand lightly gripping the back of your neck.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur approvingly, pressing your lips against his nipple.

He let out a low groan as you began to suck, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "Fuck, just like that..."

You let out a soft laugh. “So… you like some worship on your nipples, huh?”

A deep, sultry chuckle escaped his lips, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning my secrets, aren't you?" His hand urges your head towards his other nipple. "Not just my nipples... but every part of me deserves some worship."

“That’s how I make my way down…” you whisper.

His breath hitches as you whisper your intentions, his body tingling with excitement. "Well then, I can hardly wait to feel those heavenly lips trailing lower..." He guides your face down his torso, his abs clenching instinctively under your touch.

As you kiss and nuzzle your way down his abdomen, Pedro's hands rest lightly on your head, his fingers gently guiding you. "Lower... lower... yes, just like that..." He hisses as your lips brush against the waistband of his red swim trunks.

You slowly peel back his zipper, the sound echoing in the room. Pedro's breathing grows heavier as you reach inside and wrap your hand around his thick, hard length. He lets out a low groan as you pull it free, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck... oh god..."

Pedro's cock twitches eagerly as you firm your grip, the skin velvety soft, a prominent vein runs along the underside. The head is broad and round, flushed a deep red, with a tiny slit oozing with pre-cum. His hips giving an involuntary thrust forward, seeking more of your touch. "Don't tease me, beautiful..." He breathes out, voice strained with lust. "Put those gorgeous lips to work."

As you bob your head up and down, Pedro's hands tighten on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to thrust gently…”Fuck... You look so beautiful with your mouth full of me..." He pants, his abs flexing with each thrust. His hands move to cup your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he guides your movements. The wet sounds of your sucking fill the room, mixed with his guttural groans.

I take you out of my mouth for a few seconds. “You taste so good, but I don’t want you to reach the edge, hottie…”

His breath catches at your words. "Mmm, teasing me now? You know exactly what you're doing..." His tone is a mix of both frustration and deep satisfaction. "Yeah, don't make me come just yet…”

“Yes, let’s work on your list…” You say, sitting back on his lap, cleaning the corner of your mouth with his precum.

Pedro's eyes darken with desire as he watches you clean your mouth with his precum. "Fuck, you're so naughty... I love it." He reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips, spreading it around before leaning in to claim your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

“So…What did you say about the fireplace? Second of the list…”

Pedro smirks mischievously. "Ah, the fireplace... I was thinking we could move our little session over there." He stands up, lifting you with him effortlessly. "I want to bend you over the mantel and fuck you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.”

Pedro carries you to the fireplace, setting you down gently on your feet. He spins you around and bends you over the ornate wooden mantel, the cool marble pressing against your skin. "Keep those elbows locked," he commands, a firm hand on the small of your back.

Not happy with that, you just suggest, “Why don’t you just take me to the bed?”

"Because the bed is too ordinary," Pedro murmurs, running his hands down your thighs possessively, "I want to do this here, where I can watch myself take you in the mirror." He steps back to admire the view, his eyes roaming over your arched back and rounded bottom.

With a mischievous tone, you ask him… ”and you like to watch yourself?”

"Right now I’d love watching myself fucking you," Pedro confesses, his voice low and husky with desire. "Seeing my cock disappear into your pussy, feeling your body shake as I pound into you... it's fucking incredible." He reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the loose strands.

"And the mirror," he continues, his other hand reaching out to the mantel to steady himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Watching myself push into you, feeling your tight little hole squeeze around my dick as I fuck you hard against the mirror... fuck, it's going to be perfect."

With a deep grunt, Pedro thrusts forward, sheathing his hard length inside you in one smooth motion. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried inside you before he starts to move, his hips slamming against your ass as he fucks you hard against the mirror.

"Look at us in the mirror..." He reaches around to cup your breasts while continuing his steady pace. "Watch how beautifully you take my cock. Those whimpers you're making... fuck, you're perfect." His pace quickens, his breath becoming ragged against your ear.

His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The mirror fogs up from your panting breaths and his sweat, obscuring parts of the reflection but not enough to hide the lewd scene unfolding before it.

In between moans, you beg him to take you to the bed; you can’t stand your legs anymore with so much pressure.

Pedro growls, pulling out of you abruptly and spinning you around to face him. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, tossing you onto it before climbing on top of you. "I need to be inside you again, now."

He settles between your thighs, his hard cock pressing urgently against your slick folds. "Wrap your legs around me," he demands, easing the tip of his shaft teasingly along your slit. As you comply, he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one strong hand.

Pedro leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you again, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with lust as he begins to move, thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing," he grits out, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Pedro quickens his pace, his grip on your wrists tightening as he chases his release. The room fills with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your breathy moans. "I'm going to fill you up so full," he pants, nipping at your jaw. One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. "I want to feel you come on my cock…”

"Fuck, you're getting tighter... Is this what you need, baby?" His thumb presses harder against your clit as he fucks you with deep, forceful strokes, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "Come for me..."

Pedro feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, "That's it, cum on my cock." He slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His thumb circles your clit frantically as his release builds. "Fuck, I'm close..."

With a loud grunt, Pedro explodes inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. His thumb presses hard against your clit, sending you over the edge as you scream in pleasure, your pussy milking his cock for everything he's got.

He stays buried inside you, his thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I will tell your friends you are amazing… they were right..." He murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

After a moment, Pedro slowly pulls out of you, his softening cock slipping free from your still-quivering pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Can we keep up with this list?" You say.

He kisses the top of your head, his heart still racing from their intense encounter. "I think we should keep going, yeah. There are a lot more things on that list I want to try with you." He pulls out his phone and starts typing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, I need to check on the girls...” you say, worried about them being away for a couple of hours already.

Pedro looks up from his phone, his expression softening. "Of course, go check on your friends. I'll be here when you get back. But don't be too long, okay?" He says giving you a little wink.

As soon as you go back to your room, you find your friends passed out on the bed.

Well, I guess you will leave a note at the door saying thanks for the little help, and you guys will catch up on the next day because you won’t sleep in the same room for a while… The list is endless.

😈

————————————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[yuckiemouth]

help a girly out here and teach me how to masturbate step by step pls

TMI/OPEN THOUGHTS

Let’s see… I haven’t masturbated in a while because I be busy and my sleep schedule is actually giving me justice, but when I use to stay up, I’ll tell you what I did step by step… man I feel like a teacher 😭

1. PRIVACY

this is obvious, but some idiots get caught, so yeah if you’re able to, LOCK your door, me in a strict house hold, I don’t even have locks, but I never got caught either. So if you don’t have locks on your door or unable to even close it (cuz some parents be doing that), go to the bathroom or better yet, wait til everyone sleep.

If you’re a moaner, pillow rider, vibrator user, dildo user, turn your TV UP!!! Even if you don’t moan, big mama makes SQUELCHING noises, I’m talkin she be wet, so you don’t want no one walking past and be like “WTH?”

2. GET AROUSED.

mindlessly masturbating is such a waste, so I say really set the mood. Turn off the lights or dim them, or better yet LED lights. Optional if you wanna wear sum sexy. To get aroused properly, watch something that you’re attracted to, whether its lesbians, straight sex, BBC, roleplay, etc. whatever that ain’t my business, but if you aren’t able to (say if your parents took your device or your internet is just trash.) USE YOUR IMAGINATION. While imagining whatever you fantasize, caress your inner thighs, knead or suck your own tits, suck your fingers, slowly rub your clit through your underwear, etc.

3. HOW TO MASTURBATE 101 🤓

I ain’t no fingering ass bitch cuz I don’t feel a fuck thing so… As WOMEN, we should know where the clit is (I hope cuz if not where tf have you been?) anyway…. Depending on your anatomy, your clit has a hood (heavy skin) because it’s so fucking sensitive bro. I found out people don’t be feeling nun when they rub big mama is because y’all ain’t pulling the hood up, the mf ain’t cold, take the hood off!! BUT I MUST WARN YOU. Don’t rub yourself too hard because it could be hurtful and could possibly lose feeling on your clitoris, so if you’re rough with your fingers or overly sensitive, keep the hood over it, but if you’re not, PULL IT UP.

Now using your MIDDLE and RING fingers, it’s different strokes people use. The most commonly used one is circulating around it and rubbing side to side. But I’ll tell a little secret.

The way I get off involves 3 techniques.

First, I start off slow, controlled, and even roll my hips with it. Now after some time, I’m aroused, using my arousal as lube y’all hear me out… then i stimulate more by going faster, but soft on the touch. Once I feel like I’m ready, I press harder and go all out, then GOT YA! I’m a edger! I stop when I’m about to cum and slap it a bit to keep her stimulated. Yeah, yeah I know, I get mad TOO when I feel my high go down, but repeating it like 4 times, best nut you’ll experience.

So I circulate, go side to side, and spank her cuz why not. When I’m real horny and feeling rushed, it takes me 10 minutes, but if I have time, 30+.

4. HOW TO CLEAN UP

Now…. Me, this is from experience, I be all over the place. So I go to the bathroom, flush away that water weight, wash my hands and if you’re a squirter (which im not), girl you should already have a towel under you cuz who feel like changing sheets tbh… and NEVER masturbate with underwear, take them off before you even start.

Now people hate talking about it, but YES, masturbating has a smell and you probably won’t smell it because you’re the one doing it, but if another person walk in, they will smell a musky scent SIMPLY because your vagina is an open ORGAN closed with thighs, and you know what creates that? Heat! And you know what heat creates on your body? Sweat. And what SHOULD sweat smell like (since y’all be dirty a lil). MUSK. So to eliminate that smell around the whole room, keep your lower half under covers, use a candle, spray air freshener, keep the air on, inscents or whatever those are called. WHATEVER JUST BLOCK OUT THE SMELL.

And that’s all I got tbh….

[ink-stainedkiss]

Boxer Katsuki Bakugo Headcannons ✧˖°

Boxer!Katsuki who finds it endearing that you research his opponents before his matches. While he doesn’t expect you, nor need you to, it shows how much you care about and support his career. In the car, if you five him a fact about the person he’s fighting, he’ll nod and accept the information. And sure, his manager and coach have already told him everything he needs to know, but he would never tell you that.

Boxer!Katsuki who always gets you into his games for free. No discussion. You walk in with the undefeated Dynamight, nobody is questioning you. The staff practically acts like you’re on the same level as Katsuki, but that’s because they know if they were to treat you rudely, Katsuki wouldn’t be too happy.

Boxer!Katsuki who lets you relax in his locker room. He loves practicing his moves while you watch, because you aren’t very subtle when you stare at his chest. Katsuki doesn’t complain though and he prides himself on how much you love his figure. He’ll add cocky comments now and then, telling you to quit gawking, but the threats are never truthful.

You sat on a foldable chair next to the wall of lockers as your body friend struck a large punching bag over and over. Sweat beaded down his forehead, making his blonde hair stick to the skin. Grunts and pants pushed their way out of his mouth and occasionally he would let out short growls. Even if you were ‘mindlessly scrolling on your phone’ you knew that Katsuki was sexy as hell. A smirk appeared on your face at the thought. Unknowingly, your boyfriend had caught you looking like a pervert at him and he slowed the swinging bag, raising a brow at your lost-in-thought face.

“Like what you see?” He teased from afar, noticing how you were torn from your thoughts and a small blush appeared on your face. You scoffed, going back to your phone that had turned off from lack of use,”I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled, obviously not believing you for a second,”You sure? ‘Cause it looks like you’re drooling over me.”

You looked up, glaring at the man, which he only found cute,”You’re clearly seeing things, maybe you want me to look at you.” Katsuki realized you wouldn’t accept your defeat and moved off of the platform, smirking as you didn’t look up from your screen. He removed one of his gloves and lifted your chin,”I’m just messing with you.” Before you could comment and deny, he locked his lips with yours, smiling just a bit as you melted against his mouth.

Boxer!Katsuki who doesn’t care if someone walks in during your guy’s make out sesh. You’ll stand next to him, blushing like crazy, and Katsuki won’t even bat an eye. He has his hand resting on your waist, listening to whatever the person had to say. He really doesn’t care about Pda and if he wants a kiss, he’s gonna get a kiss. In the beginning of your relationship, you often worried how the media would react to it, but after a certain game, Katsuki kissed you right in front of the cameras. He made it clear he didn’t give a shit what people thought about the two of you.

Boxer!Katsuki who finds it cute that you worry so much about him. He’s been boxing for years now and no one frets over his being as much as you do. When his manager tells him he has five minutes before entering the ring, he gives you a long kiss, then always expects you to tell him to be safe. If his opponent is known for being rough in the ring, then you are extra stressed out. You understand that there are paramedics for a reason and injuries are bound to happen, but you can’t stand to see Katsuki in pain.

Boxer!Katsuki who almost winds up late to the match because he forgets the time and can’t seem to leave without one more kiss. Though his manager gets annoyed, he could never ask you to leave, because if Katsuki heard of this, he would immediately drop him and find someone new to be his manager. Which wouldn’t be hard since people are already obsessed over his records and fame.

Boxer!Katsuki who searches for you in the crowd as he’s being introduced. Without failing, he’ll scan past the screaming and crazed fans and see you in the reserved area. Sometimes, you love having a little surprise for him as he walks out. Since he’s portrayed as a big bad boxer, you like making him chuckle by making large cardboard cutouts of his face and waving them around proudly.

Boxer!Katsuki who fights like an underdog coming to their senses and finally realizing their strength. And it’s all for you. He hits hard and fast, making sure when the ref breaks them up, he sneaks a glance at you and your astonished face.

Boxer!Katsuki who if he does end up with a small injury after the fight, like a nose bleed or his face burning up, never goes to the provided nurses, instead he lets you take care of him. Before you met Katsuki you had taken some medical classes for small things and injuries, so he sees you as a perfect nurse for him.

You had been sitting in the locker room for a while now, resting in the nicer area with a small tv and a large couch. When the door opened, you quickly looked over, gasping softly as you took notice of your boyfriend. He was wearing a bedazzled robe with his title on the back and still in his gloves but you were only focusing on the scarlet liquid dripping from his nose. Instantly you rise from the couch, grabbing his hand and yanking him to the wash room,”I didn’t see your nose start bleeding out there.”

He had a lazy smile as you walked around the bathroom, taking immediate action for something so small,”It started in the hallway and I knew you would help me.” You huffed, knowing he could easily clean it himself, but he needed you to do it. Although, you would be lying if you said you didn’t love seeing him watch you with such adoring eyes.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed and you retried a small cotton pad and alcohol. You got to work, using the dry gauze to soak up any of the fresh blood,”You did good out there.” The boxer chuckled under his breath, wrapping an arm around your waist to drag you closer,”Just good?” You tossed the cotton into a small bin beside the two of you, smirking at his words,”Well, I can’t boost your ego that much.”

The blonde’s grin grew and leaned in for a kiss, but you put a finger up, pushing him away,”You still have blood all over you.” He frowned, suddenly not liking his bloodied nose. Fortunately for Katsuki, it didn’t take long for you to wipe away the dried substance that had gotten as far as his collarbone.

Once you were done, you put away the supplies and finally you cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a slow kiss. Alas, it didn’t last long as you felt his face was hot to the touch.

Boxer!Katsuki who rested his head in your lap, a cold rag across his forehead, and talked on about the fight from his perspective. You watched him dreamily, humming in response to his words, and you played with his messy golden locks. All you could really think about was how the media would react if they found out their scary champion, who had just K.O’d his opponent an hour earlier, enjoyed being pampered by his loving girlfriend.

[bunnwich]

Why Leona Gave Himself The Bad Ending

Leona Kingscholar Analysis

Usual disclaimer to say that these are just my thoughts and you don’t have to feel pressured to agree. This was my thought process as I played through the parts of Chapter 7 Parts 212-226, featuring Leona’s dream triggered by Malleus’s magic.

--

I wanna start off by saying that I believe all the dreams are a mixture of Malleus’s magic and the dreamers themselves. 

Idia theorized that Malleus is sort of “setting up the parameters” in a way, then each of the dreamers' personalities and imaginations affect the dream in different ways. The emphasis of this has been brought by Idia several times that it’s the strength of imagination that determines how complex dreams are. Which is maybe why in the first years dreams seem so basic? They’re young, their magical abilities are still new, and their magic is no match for Malleus’s magic. That and, to be fair, most of the first years don’t have the same amount of angst and turmoil as some of the other second years and third years have.

With that being said, I believe that because of his high intelligence, magical prowess, and his hyper-vigilance, that is the main reason Leona’s dream was so…different than the others.

But let's get into it!

There are a lot of Lion King references in this dream, and it’s very clear the writers wanted to play around and show this off. I feel like they did a good job of integrating the themes of the movie into Leona's dream. It does give me a little validation as I feel Leona’s struggles and personality are closely linked to his great Seven Counterpart, Scar. More so than any of the other overblotters. When I analyze Leona I sometimes I do use Scar as a starting point to understand his intentions.

This is how I came to the conclusion long ago that being king would never make Leona happy because it's not what he truly wants.

We start with the dream back in the Sunset Savanna. It’s VERY interesting to see that there is hyena prejudice right off the bat as a woman flees from Ruggie while he attempts to buy food. 

Right off, everyone can tell something is…off about the city. Especially coming fresh from Ruggie’s dream where everything was idyllic and happy for hyenas BECAUSE of Leona.

Grim hits us with the: “I laugh in the face of danger!” line. We even get the three hyenas referenced and the “love for you to stick around for dinner” line. The once proud lioness-dominated palace guard has been taken over by hyena “ruffians” (interesting choice to portray a disenfranchised group being given jobs as the new guard as a negative thing, but moving on.)

The first interesting thing we get is that the palace is somewhat rundown and empty? The group makes comments of how dark and dreary it is, and how few people are around. Is there an implication that the servants fled at some point after Leona became King or did he replace them? This further shows me that Leona for whatever reason has chosen to isolate himself. To me, it's most likely that he already feels isolated by his country and those in the palace.

From the looks of it “Malleus’s magic” has given Leona the one thing he has always wanted, but has he? Leona seems less than thrilled and genuinely upset by the fact his whole family is...gone. As I mentioned in my Leona relationships post, I think that he holds a complex relationship with his family, and while he resents them, in no way can I see him wanting them to be dead. 

It’s now I started to think that Leona’s magic was overriding the simple “let them eat cake” logic of all of the happier dreams. This dream feels TOO real, dark, dreary, and…sad. Could it be Leona’s intelligence or cynicism, ruining what’s supposed to be an idyllic scenario?

Why is even in his WILDEST dreams Leona is still miserable?

Hmm.

A lot of people have talked about Kifaji and their thoughts on his presence. It’s strange to see people praise him as “a loving parental figure” as if he’s really there trying to help Leona. But, Kifaji is not there. This Kifaji is a manifestation of Leona’s mind and I’ll get to why that’s interesting and what I think he represents. Remember, that often in other dreams we’ve seen of loved ones or rivals and they can act normal, out of character, or even cruel. Vil and Neigie come to mind and Neige turned out to be the blot keeping Vil asleep.

Kifaji is a bit different. He actively tries to help the group wake Leona as opposed to encouraging the twisted dream logic. For this reason, to me, Kifaji represents Leona’s conscious and the Dream!Leona we see represents his shadow self, like the dark side of the moon. AKA, the Leona we meet in Chapter 2. In fact, this whole dream feels like a rehash of Chapter 2.

We get the outdated Leona that dumbs himself down and settles for less, cloaking himself in his pride and believing that everyone is below him. An idle king while he lets others do his dirty work. (Scar basically.)

Leona asks Kifaji to sing (another Lion King reference) and it plays out how you would think. Leona tells Kifaji that he is the only competent person in the kingdom. And he argues that the kingdom is in shambles, not because of his choices as King, but because everyone else sucks basically.

Hmm. 

Kifaji reminds Leona that while he is clever and his plans are grand, that he can not treat people like human chess pieces. (Can I just say I love when chess is brought up to us because I find that when people analyze Leona or his thoughts they often forget how much he uses chess to process his thoughts. We saw that plenty in the Tamashina Mina event!) I think it helps him sort his thoughts and emotions which he can have a hard time doing.

I think Kifaji represents Leona’s mindset post Chapter 2 and because Kifaji in his real life is one of the only people who probably stands up to Leona, he has placed him in this antagonist role in his mind. (but not really) Plus, it’s not far off from Kifaji’s actual treatment of Leona in the Tamashina Mina event.

So yeah, Leona acts more like he does in Chapter 2—he's the player or the king even and everyone else around is just lowly pieces.

Just like the scene from The Lion King, Scar and Leona are not happy. Even though they are supposedly getting their deepest desire, they remain bitter and…alone. 

When I first began to read into Leona it was quite obvious to me that the whole “I’ll never be king" thing was just a front for something else. What I think Leona truly craves is approval and acceptance.

Being king, especially of a broken kingdom that despises him, will never make him happy. But, why do the people not love him? This is supposed to be a fantasy right?

There is this interesting layer of how he became king too. Instead of Cheka or Falena simply not existing, like I thought it might be, they are dead. That is…so much more tragic than it needed to be. As if deep down Leona believes the only way he can become king (his dreams to come true) is if tragedy happens. This reminds me of his bitter view/the symbolism of his unique magic. That he can only bring misery wherever he goes—everything he touches turns to sand. 

I also think that Leona is afraid of failing and much of this dream is his anxieties and insecurities that linger from all his past failures.

Though interestingly enough, I sense that in the dream, as implied later by Idia, Leona has implemented an “over-exaggeration” of his policies and plans for the kingdom. It was almost like he purposely ran his resources dry and gave up trying to compromise with anyone for the sake of “progress.”

Why, though?

It’s very masochistic in a way. It’s almost like he wanted to prove himself right. Everything he touches will turn to sand eventually and his grand plans will fail even if he claims they are “perfect.”

That’s why this dream is probably the most masochistic and self-deprecating we have seen. I think what initially began to draw me to Leona’s character is because of the hidden pain he holds. He is by far one of the most easygoing, and lackadaisical acting of the cast, but…he cares, he cares so, so much about how he is perceived and his haunted by his hopelessness about his future and the failures of his past.

I think the pain of never feeling good enough, causes his mind to be unable to “play nice” with Malleus’s dream magic to even manifest any sort of positive future. One where he holds a position he wants AND is loved and respected. it’s just impossible that he could ever have that, even in his wildest dreams. 

He’s too much of a “realist.”

Side tangent, but a frustrating take is to see was the: “Oh yeah, see? He would have sucked as king.” tinged comments after this came out.

 I think it’s more complicated than that. 

This isn’t me trying to defend him necessarily, but to be fair, all dreams tend to be over exaggerations by the dreamer. Plus, I think the fact that Ruggie HATES Leona in this dream and is suddenly in favor of Falena, is a sign right there we can not trust Leona’s interpretation of the people he knows in his dream. He is sort of an unreliable narrator that way. 

Besides, like in The Lion King, why would all the water dry up, just because the hyenas over-hunted? 

A big theme in Lion King and even The Lion Guard TV show is "the balance of nature." The blight upon the Pridelands when Scar takes over feels more like symbolism of the “unbalance of nature” caused by the tragedy of Mufasa’s death. Which makes me again, connect that Leona feels the only way he can succeed is by inflicting misery on others. Like his magic, perhaps a part of him believes he is a curse. 

I theorized in my Tamashina Mina review, that maybe Leona feels like an outcast himself, and the separation he feels from his country is showcased in how he blames the citizens for the decline of the kingdom, rather than his plans. He feels isolated from them.

By this point, I was having flashbacks to Chapter 2, where he got a whiff of his plan failing and he still pushed through even though he knew it would fail. At first, he may have started doing okay as king, but maybe when he came upon too many obstacles or pushback, He just gave up. Because he was not instantly loved by the people, who probably already feared him, he’d rather not even try. Suddenly, they are “not worth his time”, and he can’t help them because they suck.

Leona’s problem has always been his pride. I think he has to put it aside to genuinely help people reach their potential and learn to collaborate with others more. Part of how this dream plays out, is him realizing that maybe some criticisms Kifaji had about his pride all along may be true. Leona refuses to play nice with others. 

That’s why I think Kifaji represents a more sensible and lucid Leona. He is in a sense, talking to his past self, and trying to shake himself from the dream and his outdated ideals.

Ortho even points out that Ruggie is not really the Ruggie we know but rather a part of Leona’s imagination. Again, which puts emphasis on how the characters in his dream are more indicative of his mindset as opposed to being “in character”. Maybe Ruggie hating him in his dream is his inner anxieties about him and Ruggie post Chapter 2 fallout. He feels like Ruggie could never forgive him for what he did. He let him down. And Leona being bad with people and feelings, doesn’t know the proper way to apologize.

Kifaji (woke Leona) says that the state of the kingdom is a result of him “pursuing efficiency over all things and disregarding other people's feelings.” It really feels like he is calling himself out here. Does he REALLY wanna help people? Or is it just Leona’s selfish pride who wants attention for just being smart?

Dream!Leona complains about the protesters interrupting his nap which is another sign for me of the exaggeration of the scenario of Leona being the king. Like...did he not criticize Falena for having the same carefree and laid-back attitude? And yet here he is...complacent in the same behavior he once criticized Falena of. 

Interesting.

Ortho mentions that Leona’s dream is clearly a more complex situation than the other dreams.

I think there is a key implication we are missing here too, that I haven’t seen many mention. There is a throwaway line that Jack mentions that Leona has not attended school and is king instead. And he doesn't seem to know Dream!Ruggie either. Nor Ruggie him.

There is no doubt his time at NRC has shaped him to be the Leona we know now. Someone who has at least somewhat benefited with the connections he made at school. It does seem like this Dream!Leona is regressed. And because he never attended school, he is a much colder person who has no regard for others' feelings at all. He is even more socially inept.

I feel like this is a common theme to show us that despite the independent nature of most of the students at NRC, that it can still be “the friends we made along the way.” trope.  These connections do matter and especially to Leona. He mentions this in his post-overblot monologue in the light novel. He found his pack at NRC.  This time with his dorm members affected his personality for the better. It's kinda sweet when you think about it!

Ortho mentions Dream!Leona appears DEEPLY absorbed in the delusions of his dream. This means that even though he has the lucid failsafe of Kifaji, Leona’s self-deprecation, despair, and pain are still overtaking his logic. That's what's crafted this nightmare. (And he later references it as such.) 

Everyone acknowledges that he can’t possibly be happy and looks EVEN MORE miserable than at school. It can't be a silly happy fantasy, but a grim dark reality of what he thinks of himself. 

That's why he gave himself the bad ending.

I love the double entendre of Idia saying Leona is building his dream like a “sandbox” game. Lots of Minecraft references. (Leona Minecrafter confirmed? Or hear me out…Leona playing King Crusaders or Civilization V FGHJ)

Anyways, Idia or Ortho, (I forget) suggests that perhaps he has run out of ”simulations” for his dream playthrough. And being an intelligent person his mind tends to overthink naturally and this caused his dream to have a more realistic tone. Plus, I theorize that because Leona is powerful and his intelligent, his magic and imagination was almost able to overwrite Malleus's, a standard happy dream formula.

Ortho suggests Leona chose a more “realistic mode “on purpose.” Perhaps like I theorized earlier, it is almost a masochistic test to see if he could have everything he wanted? Leona is a very analytical person who enjoys games. It makes sense, the way he often plays chess alone to practice “strategies.” But as I mentioned before, I think he just genuinely believes it's not possible. Ortho mentions he thinks Leona’s the type to understand that an “aggressive urban development” would come with risks.

Jack asks “If Leona knew this was a bad plan then why would he make the citizens suffer and be hated?”  (Sheesh, now we know Leona really is the type to play pretend and get a lil too real with it.)

Ruggie adds that Leona may be “doing something he knows he shouldn't be on purpose.” Like maybe he did it to be dastardly and maybe he just wanted to “feel the rush” of being a ruthless and hated king.

When Azul asks Ruggie if he thinks Leona takes pleasure in immoral things he says that he can't say for sure, only that he is a prince that no doubt can take pleasure in “bad things”.

To me, however, it feels like a masochistic move to prove to himself his happiness is unattainable. 

Then Sebek chimes in: “How could he go so far to kill his family only to abandon his responsibilities as a king and become a horrible one?"

No one seems to know for sure. Everyone in the group has their theories but the consensus in the group is that - nobody fuckin’ knows why this guy intricately carved himself such a miserable fantasy for himself. Very masochistic for a guy who appears to be so proud huh?

Idia continues to mention that Leona’s imagination is so vast compared to everyone else's. It fills out a whole “world” completely and the mechanics of this world must make sense. He's playing on hard mode. In Leona’s brain this seemed to manifest as if he is to “get what he wants” it can't be serendipitous or through triumph, IT MUST be through tragedy.

Can we lighten up a little?

Again, he may have started to do “good work” but quickly realized that keeping up with all to create a perfect kingdom was waaaay over his head. Maybe he was afraid to give it his all, because he knew everyone would still hate him anyway.

Another reason I think Leona thrives better as a “big fish in a small pond” so to speak. Like his dorm leader role where he can interact directly with his cute (this man used this word a lot for some reason) froshes, make tangible make things better for a small group or community. 

But as we saw, even with his dorm Leona began to feel overwhelmed with the pretty promises he made to his underclassmen in Chapter 2 about the Spelldrive tournament. He like…wants to be wanted but he’s terrified of people actually relying on him, because trying your best and then failing anyways is the most painful thing to him. His instinct when he gets too frustrated with something is to act like he never cared about it in the first place or anyone. AKA “I did everything right and it's THE REST OF YOU who are incompetent.”

That’s why I personally think that in the future Leona working within a small community might be a better fit for him, using his skills to see potential in others as a way to connect with them and teach them how to thrive. 

So yeah, needless to say the group is stumped on analyzing Leona’s intentions and Azul hilariously notes that Leona is just…a complicated person. 

What an understatement.

The group hatches a silly plan to have Ruggie puppet a Cheka hologram and yeah obviously it didn’t work.

This is where it started to get interesting again.

Dream!Kifaji said he’s been “waiting for the day Leona would wake up from his bad dream” and joins the fight against him to wake him. It’s like Leona telling himself that it's time to let his original dream go.

Ortho is surprised Kifaji is on their side, that he should be the darkness pulling Leona back in, but like I mentioned I think Kifaji is actually a “fail safe” Leona created to stay lucid or...maybe the little bit of hope he has fostered now that he has grown from Chapters 2’s events.

Since Kifaji is the one to normally call him out, maybe he's Leona’s way of processing his relationship with him. And that maybe…sometimes as annoying as Kifaji is, he has a point. Kifaji is the one who is implied to have raised him after all, so it's no surprise Leona sees him in a father-like role more than his own father.

“No one understands me, it's not my fault.”  Leona laments running away, running away from himself.

Reminds me a lot of Chapter 2 Leona where he began to feel sorry for himself instead of actually trying to fix things. It's clear that no matter how smart and mature Leona is…is that he still has a lot of growing to do. And that his relationship with his family and country are complex. There is not a black and white or good and bad with this situation and I feel like this is important when talking about him and his relationships with his family.

He was very much ostracized and probably neglected to some extent by his real parents but at a certain point, Leona decided to give up on improving himself just because he didn't achieve the results he wanted to. It's one of his biggest flaw.

His complacency is what drags him further into the darkness. Not Kifaji.

Sitting and stewing in his despair and how unfair his life has been instead of reaching out. Rehashing all thise chess strategies alone on his chess board until his brain hurts. Making grandiose plans instead of actually working hard toward a realistic goal. 

The idle king. A king with naught. (Nothing.)

I am now realizing that in a way (because Ruggie and Leona are so similar) Jack is Leona’s foil; he is the determined and earnest one who admires Leona at his best. He still holds the innocence and the idealism of working hard.

The group jumped through the darkness with Leona and we are replaying the events of Chapter 2 once again.

Ruggie and Jack watch it go down in dismay. Ruggie addresses that he once did think Leona’s way of thinking/plan was good and it’s cool to see he clearly regrets it now too.

They watch the drama play out as if Leona’s plan in Chapter 2 actually succeeded and see that he craves more. More ways for Savanaclaw to get ahead by unsavory means.

Jack says even if Leona becomes king there will be no end to his dissatisfaction. BOOM, there it is.

That is why Chapter 2 is so mind boggling.  Leona’s whole speech was about being king and second. But it’s clear now, it's not what he truly wants. I think Leona is afraid to admit what he really wants. Because that takes vulnerability and then comes the possibility of being rejected.

Jack also notes that, despite Leona getting “everything he wanted” he seems more grumpier and dissatisfied than usual.

“Leona is not your King, hes’ our Dorm Leader,” Jack growls. They fight and we get a nice callback to Lion King here. “Remember who you are.”

As Leona wakes up from his dreams he straight up says, yeah the scheme from Chapter 2 was…stupid. (Nice.)

Oh and we finally get some acknowledgement that Ruggie feels like Leona abandoned him in Chapter 2 which SHEEEEEEEESH. This is a deep cut for me, considering Ruggie’s real dad abandoned him. And it really confirms the fact he sees Leona as a father/big brother figure.

But, Leona doesn't, he sacrifices himself for Ruggie as the whole group tries to escape the crumbling dream. And while Ruggie cries out for Leona, Leona goes down smirking not knowing what will happen to him.

It’s time for him to face himself, his blot monster.

Blot!Leona wants them dead, all of them. Cheka, Falena, everyone. The real Leona finds it kind of pathetic. Because, in reality, I don't think Leona hates Cheka or Falena and he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Leona admits to his blot that yeah, no he can’t do the job. He can’t be king. And instead of it being a negative it’s more a relief? Maybe he is incompetent too. He is addressing himself and his previous grandiose illusions. He hasn’t done anything worthy of being king.

However, he will not give up. He’s finally living up to Savanaclaw’s motto of perseverance (which he sorta laughed off in Chapter 2?)

This next part is what struck me the most because. He just lays it out so simply, finally saying it out loud.

Self awareness!! Like he finally said it!! (And I felt very vindicated in this moment, NGL) 

What he desires most is the approval of others.

Ah, and Blot!Leona responds with the fact he can't earnestly try, it's too painful to think of failing. Props for Leona acknowledging his flaws! Just like with the other overblotters. But I'm especially floored here because of how PRIDEFUL he is all the time.

In order to have better relationships with people, he has to leave that whole “they all hated me” shit behind. Because in reality, there are people who care for him despite his flaws. There are those who look up to him and admire him, for him.

But, the idea of that I think is so…crazy to him that he tends to deny its very existence. Then when he is genuinely complimented on his leadership or whatever skills he brushes it off.

He calls himself disgusting which feels kinda sad but it’s proof he has moved on from his previous way of things. What did I say earlier? Leona is afraid of failure. 

Giving being a king a earnest optimistic go is too painful for him because ultimately he is afraid of failing. Like he was happier to play the role of tyrannical king than to bother to build relations with the citizens of his kingdom.

As his blot self withers away it’s almost…sad compared to the previous blot monster showdowns we’ve seen. It mentions something about “his friends” (A reference to Scar’s final words.) like he’s reaching out for Leona so it's not alone anymore. And Leona almost embraces his monster? It’s clear he feels pity for this thing…him. His pain, his depression, his loneliness. Maybe a step in the way of self-love? He acknowledges (almost as to soothe it) that it will always be with him, clawing from inside. Except now, he won’t give up.

He vows that he will get what he wants one day, for both of them. He’ll have his “own throne and pride” instead of wanting for someone else’s. He’ll find his place to belong through his own merit.

It reminds me of that expression “find your own tribe” which is an expression that those who are not close to heirt families understand all too well.  He wants to find satisfaction outside his desire to rule and maybe because we know he prefers NRC to home, this confirms his fondness for his dorm life. (Savanaclaw found a family dorm.)

When he returns to his original dream of being king Kifaji is there as they look on at Pride Rock. The fact that it is raining is telling that hope has returned. (Just like at the end of Lion King) and that by accepting that “being king” is not what he really wants now “all things are balanced again”.

They have a nice moment here. Leona acknowledging that he has been given the tools to do good things by Kifaji’s training is a big mature moment for him. (Especially how they acted toward one another in the Tamashina Mina event)  And Kifaji praising him, since this a dream, could be a testament to what he wishes would happen between them.

AKA Leona finally feels more, “at peace” with himself.

As Leona destroys this false kingdom with his sand he seems reserved, it’s almost bittersweet as it all settles over him, his new found aspirations, letting the old ones go. He's letting the past go. A big theme in Lion King. (I really feel the writers must be fans of the movies.) 

Kifaji says: “Go to the place you really belong.”

This line kinda got me. Because the implication is that Night Raven College and his dorm is where he really belongs. Leona is confirming that his experiences at NRC have shaped who he is SO MUCH. 

For years he accepted his life as it was, a cage, and now he is acknowledging that he has the power to break that cage and do whatever he wants. It’s a great callback to the advice he gave Jamil in Chapter 6.

This is quite refreshing as he mentioned before that it was too “late for him”. Now, he realizes it isn’t.

Back with the gang, Ruggie admits his fear that Leona will abandon him again. Leona denies it, and says somewhat casually that he is in fact a true friend of his. This feels like a clever inversion of the line that Scar says to the hyenas about being his “friends.” 

But, we know now that Leona does mean it now. And this shows Leona’s desire to finally stray from the “path”  of his Great Seven counterpart and actually like…have friends?

The reunion of the Savanaclaw trio is actually really sweet. For a dorm full of cocky jocks with strong personalities they seem to be so genuinely happy to be reunited.

Jack bursting out into tears and crying got me tearing up. Like Ruggie and Leona clearly are bit more reserved in their emotions but we see Savanaclaw really are close, despite their disagreements. They care for one another as a dysfunctional little family. 

As a dorm that doesn't get much mainstream attention compared to others it was so nice to have this little moment. It's hard to tell, but I’m 99% sure there was a group hug based on how the sprites moved and the sound effects. At least a nice back pat from Leona. (Thanks, dad.) 

All in all, I really...enjoyed his dream section. As someone who is pretty hyper-critical, for the most part, it satisfied most of the things I wanted to feel. I even got emotional at a few points! Yes, it would have been nicer to spend more time with “king” Leona and dive into it more. Or get more lore about his family. But, he admitted it FINALLY, everything I have clocked about him all those years ago. It’s very satisfying to see his growth in a tangible straightforward way, instead of just me reading between the lines.

I hope we will continue to see even more growth with his character (Like we did in the Halloween event)  and I’m excited to see the role he will play in the rest of Chapter 7, even if it’s just him being a cranky old man. (What do you expect he was raised by one?)

I'd like to end this with some positivity. As someone who deep dives into character stuff a lot I know it's really comforting to see part of yourself reflected back in your favorite characters.

To anyone reading who feels they have things in common with Leona or his despair, the truth is that you should keep going, even if it's just to spite the world itself.

Your vision and presence in this world are valid all on their own and that failing is not indicative of your value as a person. It never will be.

Keep fighting to find your place, your pack and never forget who you are.💚

--

Thanks for reading!! This one took quite a bit to edit and think through so if you like my Leona analyses, I’d appreciate a reblog or even just if you wanna share it with your friends! Shoutout to the youtuber ガスマスクゲーマー whose video I pulled these screenshots from. Thank you!

[polaroidpascal]

i saw frankie kissing santa claus || joel & frankie

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : joel x f!reader x frankie morales

summary : after everyone leaves your house for a holiday party, you find one straggler left behind -or- you catch frankie kissing santa claus joel

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, everyone in this fic is bi bc i am too and i said so, joel in a santa suit, reader and joel have a little (big) crush on frankie boy, handjob, blowjob(s), face sitting, multiple orgasms for reader, orgasm denial, lots and lots of leaking (from all of them. im sorry.), one in the mouth one down south, sizes mentioned, cum eating, creampie, aftercare bc its essential and they are softies!!!

WC : 6k

a/n : merry christmas to everyone who celebrates!! six months since ive written anything at all and now i'm back with a christmas special LMFAO 😭 honestly, life has been a hectic hell since i last posted and i'm really happy i was able to actually finish something i started to end out the year 🥹 i hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season, and i hope i won't be as much of a stranger as i have been lately!! hope you enjoy this!! <3

“Oh, come on, Joel! People are gonna love it!”

“I am not putting it on, end of discussion, “ he said. You huffed a sigh and plopped down on the couch, Santa hat and suit in hand draping over your legs. 

For as long as you had been seeing Joel, you’d begged and begged for him to let you plan one of his company holiday parties only for him to tell you that he’d rather just treat the guys to a night at a nice bar. He’d always let you come along, of course, feeding you whatever fruity little cocktails you asked for to pass the night along.

Last year was… something else. That summer, the company was absolutely swamped with projects, meaning Tommy and Joel had to hire some more help to keep up. One of the new hires, Francisco, “Frankie” for short, outshone all of his peers. He was effortlessly helpful in ways Tommy and Joel hadn’t even intended him to be. Just in the 6 months he had been with the company, he had already (rightfully) climbed a little higher up the ladder to help with the more important decisions rather than just being an extra set of hands on site.

Every now and then, Joel would tell you something else about Frankie that made your heart flutter with gratitude that the extra help was finally letting off some stress that he always seemed to carry. When August had rolled around, the Texas heat reached an all-time high. One particularly hot day, you suggested that Joel invite Frankie over to swim and barbecue so you could finally meet him.

He was a big man, just like Joel. Sturdy frame and tanned skin, and the sweetest manners a man could have, greeting you with a gentle handshake and a kindly playful, “It’s nice to meet you, Joel’s always talking about you.”

You spent the day in the sun and shade, sipping drinks and dipping into the cold water to stave off some of the brutal heat. The backyard filled with laughter all afternoon until the sun had finally set, the last hoorah of golden rays draining from the sky.

“So—“ Joel grunted, settling in bed with you as you curled into his side, “what’d you think of Frankie?”

“He’s great,” you hummed with a smile, settling into Joel’s post-shower warmth. “I can see why you like him so much, he seems exactly like how you always talked about him.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s somethin’. Ain’t like the other guys. Don’t have to tell him more ‘an once to do somethin’…”

You look up and see Joel staring into space, a glimmer of something else in his eye as he zones out.

A smirk slides into your cheek. “Mhm… kinda pretty too,” you tease.

“Huh?”

“He’s kinda… pretty. I don’t know.”

A ghost of a blush threatens to bloom across Joel’s chest as he shifts a bit underneath you. “Think he’s pretty, huh?”

“Well, yeah. Anyone with eyes can see that,” you giggle, propping up on one arm to fully face him. “Do you think he’s pretty?”

Joel stops, that once threatening blush beginning to spread a little more, a little darker. “Wh—?”

“Do you think Frankie is pretty?”

“Is this some sort of test or somethin’?”

“No, not a test. I just… you do realize you’ve been talking about him for months?”

“Well, he’s done real good for the company. Jus’ happy not to be so stressed all th’ time. You sure have been enjoying it.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Well, yes. But that’s not my point. Been talking about him for months and he had you laughing all afternoon today.”

“That ain’t fair, he had you laughing too. Matter of fact, them little shrieks could’a woke up a bear in hibernation,” he joked, poking at your ticklish spots and making you recreate those shrieks of giggles from earlier.

“Stop, stop! I get it!” you said between laughs. “Jesus…” You settled back into his arms pulling the covers over the two of you some more. “Doesn’t answer my question, though.” Joel hums and pulls you somehow closer and you get comfortable in his grip, feeling sleep start to claim your mind. “Do you?” you ask, voice dripping with fatigue.

“Do I what?”

“Think Frankie’s pretty?”

You feel him huff and shake his head, then you hear the smile in his voice, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

You fell asleep that night with a smile.

—

“Bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive,” you pouted under your breath, just above barely audible, just where he would have to ask you—

“What was that?”

“I said I bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive.”

“‘S that so? And what makes you think I’d wanna put it on just to impress him, hm?”

“N— nothing… Please, put on the suit, Joel?” you beg, donning your biggest puppy eyes you can manage. “The whole house is already decorated. Everyone’s gonna love it. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll show them what’s up. But I promise they’re gonna love it. Pleeeeease?”

Joel stands, silent, crossing his arms and chewing his cheek, thinking.

A beat passes, then another beat, your relentless begging gaze boring holes into his heart.

He sighs. “Gimme the suit,” he says and extends a hand.

“Really? Really, Joel?”

“Gimme the suit ‘fore I change my mind,” he says, fighting the smile curing at the corners of his mouth.

—

You were right, the suit was a fucking hit.

Every one of Joel’s employees that walked in was enthusiastically shocked that the old man would get into the spirit, patting him on the back and hyping him up the whole night. Each reaction made you giggle as you greeted them all and showed them into the house.

Tommy was probably the most surprised of them all, giving his big brother so much shit about dressing up, but Joel just laughed it off and shoved his brother in the house.

Not long after Tommy arrived, the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it!” you told Joel and made your way to the door.

It was Frankie, dressed in his nicest sweater and least damaged pair of jeans, still wearing that baseball cap he was never seen without, holding a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around it. 

“Frankie!” you exclaimed, extending your arms for a hug.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrible.”

“It’s okay, Tommy just showed up and he doesn’t have an excuse at all.”

Frankie laughs and remembers the bottle in his hands. “Oh, this is for you and Joel.” He hands it over with a smile.

“Oh, Frankie… you didn’t have to get us anything!”

“Consider it my thanks for all the hospitality,” he says.

“Well, thank you for the wine. Come in!”

There’s no need for a tour with him, having already been to your house countless times before this. When he rounds the corner into the kitchen, he nearly trips over his own feet seeing Joel. 

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that,” you said, poorly hiding the giggle bubbling up in your throat.

“Hi, Frankie,” Joel says, shyly raising an arm to wave.

“Hey-y-y,” Frankie giggles, waving back with one arm and holding his stomach with the other, almost doubled over in laughter.

The party plays out better than you even thought it would, the warm, bass-y tones of laughter filling the space of your home as everyone mingles and eats and drinks. Minutes easily turn to hours effortlessly dragging the night along. The later it gets, the more people slowly filter out returning back to their homes. You walk Tommy out to his girlfriend, Maria’s car, whom you called about half an hour earlier when you overheard him tell someone one more wouldn’t hurt.

As you close the door and turn back to the house, surprisingly very neat for having just hosted a party of contractors, it’s… eerily quiet. You expected Joel to be just behind you waiting to come back inside so he could whisk you off to bed. But he was nowhere to be found. 

You creep back through the house, not seeing him anywhere. You round the corner to the living room and…

You thought everyone had left. But, you guess the last to arrive ended up being the last to leave as well.

You see Frankie and Joel sitting on the couch, Joel lounging as normal, still decked in his Santa gear, and Frankie sitting sideways facing him, one hand cupped on Joel’s jaw, kissing him so slow, so gently… so intoxicatingly beautiful.

You stay in the door frame for a minute watching the two make out on the couch, hearing the tiniest little grunts and groans from each of them. A fire ignites in your belly and quickly grows before you clear your throat to break the silence. 

Frankie leaps back, starting to fumble his words and blushing bright red almost immediately. You look at Joel who looks calm and collected as ever, if not just a little dazed and blissed from the kissing he was just doing. 

“I-I— um— we— I—“

“It’s okay, I’m not mad,” you say gently, convincingly as you can.

Frankie must have mastered the puppy eye look just as you had and was using them on you now. “Y-you’re… not?”

You chuckle. “No. Furthest from it, really.”

“Told you she’d be okay with it,” Joel pipes up, tugging him closer on the couch.

You inch closer into the room. “We, um… I think Joel and I have a… confession to make.” Frankie watches with big, curious eyes as you make your way to sit on Joel’s other side. “Joel… how can I put it… Joel has a little bit of a… crush on you, I’d say.”

“Now hang on one minute—“

“Thinks you’re an excellent worker, wouldn’t stop talking about you for months.”

“You’re the one that said to bring him over in the first place!” Joel argues. 

“That’s true. Just wanted to see the guy responsible for helping you out so much… Remember that first time you came over?”

Frankie nods, still watching as curious as ever. 

“Well… y’know what? You should tell him what you said, Joel.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know… about how you think he’s real pretty and all…”

You see Frankie shift a little out of the corner of your eye, barely causing a ripple in the couch attempting to hide the movement.

“If I remember correctly… you’re the one that said that first.”

Your cheeks grow a little hot at the admission. “But you agreed with me.”

“Well, ‘cause I do. Think he’s pretty.”

You finally glance back at Frankie whose blushing cheeks are bright red at this point. “All that to say… I think we both have a bit of a liking for you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he asks, completely unsure how he ended up here, but eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah. Is that… are you okay with that?”

“Shit... y-yeah— yes. Yes, I am,” he says, trying to keep a grasp on whatever composure he has left.

You smile back at him. “Good. Joel, you wanna show him to our room, then?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he says, taking Frankie’s hand and giving it a kiss before leading him down the hall.

The three of you glide down the hall, the tension pouring out of your pores and making the air hotter, thicker, as you cross the threshold of the bedroom.

Joel leads Frankie to the edge of the bed, letting him sit and leaning in to give him a sweet, deep kiss to his plush lips. They both groan into it, savoring the softness of the other’s skin.

“Mmm… you should try, baby. He’s a real good kisser,” Joel offers.

You sit right next to Frankie, cupping his cheek to turn his face to you and kiss him. 

Joel’s right, too. He is a good kisser. His velvet soft lips part when his tongue darts out to taste yours, a small whimper slipping from his throat as your mouths dance together, getting to know one another, melting into one. Frankie reaches up to grab your face, willing your mouth closer into him and your body follows, all but climbing into his lap to taste more, more, more as his hands trail up your body under your shirt and up to your chest—

The kiss is only broken when Frankie moans into your mouth, looking away from you with a hooded stare as he finishes yanking off your shirt. You follow his gaze to the floor just between his legs where Joel has sunk to the floor, palming Frankie over his jeans.

“Tha’s gotta be uncomfortable, hm?” he asks, giving his bulge another gentle squeeze. Frankie grunts and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing and the slow leak threatening to ruin his pants. “Keep kissing him, angel. Gonna take care’a this.”

Joel’s hand slides up Frankie’s torso, slowly coaxing him to lay flat on the bed. You chase him with your mouth listening to each tiny gasp that leaves his lips as Joel gets to work with his pants.

The clink of his belt… the hum of a zipper… the tiny shimmy of Frankie’s hips as Joel slides his boxer briefs down his legs, stopping mid-thigh and running his hands back up to his hips.

“Jesus christ…” you hear him whisper, admiring the almost fully hardened length of the man in front of him, the tip of his cock shining in the low light from the bedside lamps, a small damp patch just barely seeping through to the outside of his underwear.

Joel’s own cock jumps at the sight. If he wasn’t turned on already from Frankie’s perfect lips, he sure as hell was turned on now. He can hardly keep himself from touching, one hand wrapping around Frankie’s length in an instant.

Frankie’s hips buck up and he pulls away from your mouth again, a low moan bellowing from his chest.

“Yeah? Feels good?” Joel mocks from below, lazily stroking up and down, up and down, swirling his hand at the top making Frankie squirm underneath him. “Look here, angel, look how hard he is.”

You glance down and can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips watching Joel slowly jerk Frankie off, the bright red tip leaking down his own length and making everything slick. And the sounds…

But it’s when you see that Joel’s other hand has his own length grasped in his palm, rubbing over his pants, that you let out a borderline growl… something about watching him get off to this… this idea that you had and felt brave enough to open the door of discussion to… this idea that Joel seemed more than happy to indulge in…

It’s then you realize how damp you feel, the wetness that’s been slowly building and building without you even realizing leaking out to soak your panties. You try to discreetly rub your legs together, seeking some sort of friction, anything at all.

But Joel sees it. He always sees it.

“Feelin’ left out, baby? She wants some attention, huh?”

You look at him with pleading eyes, an unspoken yes, yes please…

“Say, Frankie… that pretty mouth of yours got any other talents?”

Frankie looks down his body where Joel sits, already looking so fucked out and gone. “H-huh?”

“Take his mouth, go ‘head.”

Your body is buzzing as you look back at Frankie, the flame of arousal burning bright in his pupils as he frantically nods, leaning back for you to move. You take off your pants and ruined panties and shift over him, straddling his broad frame and maneuvering your knees around his head.

You hover over his face, looking down for permission to lower, “Is— Are you okay wi—”

You’re cut off by Frankie’s hands on the apex of your thighs tugging you down to meet his lips, and it is fucking heaven. “Oh, fuck…”

His scruff scratches the most sensitive parts of you, giving you exactly the friction you needed as his tongue greedily laps up your arousal, drinking it up like he’s been lost in the desert and you’re his oasis. You rock against his lips taking more and more of everything he’s giving you, and he helps you, coaxing you back and forth as more slick leaks from your hole. “Yeah, like that…” you moan, one hand slipping under his cap and through his ruffled hair, neither of you caring when it falls off onto the bed.

“Keep doin’ that, boy,” you hear Joel rumble behind you, followed by a whine from below right against your clit, making you jolt at the sudden vibration.

You look back and see Joel easing down Frankie’s length, slipping inch by inch down his throat, bobbing up and down taking more and more with each bob until he’s taken it all to the hilt.

God, is it a sight. You’re already whimpering watching him take more and more, but when he’s bottomed out and looks up, eyes barely watering, and he gives you a wink, you can’t help the downright pornographic moan that escapes your lips.

You turn back and look down at Frankie, seeing tears just starting to well in his eyes when he opens them with the most desperate gaze you’ve ever seen. “Fuck, Frankie… so fucking pretty…” you moan out, throwing your head back as his tongue dips inside you and his nose nudges your clit perfectly.

“Fuck…” you hear Joel gasp. “Fuck, angel… turn around, please. Lemme see that pretty face while he eats you out.”

You oblige, gently prying Frankie’s hands off your hips and cautiously spinning around over him. He gives you no time to settle back down, pulling you back flush with his face and drowning himself in you once again.

It’s a miracle he isn’t suffocating, or at least he doesn’t care if he is. He eats, and eats, and eats, your juices dripping down his face and his neck making a mess of him below. He works your hole and your clit, drawing out cries from you until your thighs are shaking, barely holding yourself up.

“Fuck yeah, baby… ride his fuckin’ face like that,” Joel encourages, stroking Frankie in tandem with the rock of your hips. “Gonna fuckin’ cum on his face, baby? Bet tha’s what he wants. ‘S that what you want, boy? Want her drippin’ down your tongue?”

You barely hear it over your whines, but a muffled mmhm is all you need to chase your rapidly building high, the feral need taking over you as you ride his face. His scruff tickles your most sensitive spots and his warm, wet, determined tongue works overtime to send you over the edge, and it fucking works, your orgasm crashing through you as you brace yourself on his belly, riding it out as you spill more slick down his face and his mouth works you through every second.

He doesn’t let up, licking you through every wave until you have to use every ounce of strength to fight his grip holding you down. You flop on the bed to the side and see Frankie’s face absolutely drenched in you, his mustache and scruffy beard soaking wet and his cheeks red as roses.

Frankie’s eyes are closed, his chest heaving as Joel works him faster, harder, the squelching noise from the precum furiously leaking from the tip of his cock almost drowning out the whines leaving his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… ohhhhh, fuck— waitwaitwait—” he begs, pleads, with any ounce of strength he can still muster up.

Joel stops in an instant, “What’s wrong? You okay, Frankie? What happened?” he asks, concern drenching every word.

“It’s… fuck… nothin’s wrong… just…” he huffs, trying desperately to catch his breath. “Fuck, didn’t… wanna cum yet… shit…”

Worry leaves Joel’s features in an instant, swiftly replaced by contentment and ease that he’s alright. “Ohhh… was gettin’ t’be too much, huh?”

“Yeah…” he answers, breathlessly.

Joel rises on creaky knees to stand from where he knelt, reaching for Frankie’s hand to sit him up again. “You good to stand?” he asks, gently, voice nothing but bass.

He helps Frankie up on wobbly legs and switches places with him, dragging him into his frame between his knees, reaching up to his face and kissing him, licking you off his lips. “Mmm… tastes good, don’t she?” he asks with a smirk before crashing back into Frankie’s mouth.

His hands leave Frankie’s face to tug down the costume pants, finally freeing his fully hardened cock, tugging on it a few times before reaching for Frankie’s hands and guiding them into his lap. Frankie’s hand wraps around Joel’s length, his grasp encompassing his whole girth, but just barely so. Joel helps his hand along, up and down, up and down, a steady rhythm to make his cock slippery in his grasp. 

Frankie’s hand feels perfect, but Joel is an impatient man. And when he wants something, he’s gonna get it.

“You wanna sit on Santa’s lap, Frankie?” he says with a downright diabolical smirk.

“Oh, fuck— yes, please. Can I?”

“‘Course you can,” Joel smiles, reaching for the hem of his pants again and tugging them all the way down as Frankie toes off his shoes and steps out of each pant leg. He pats his thigh right where it meets his torso, “C’mon, boy, right here.”

Joel scoots back on the bed to make room as Frankie kneels on the bed lining himself up with Joel’s length. Frankie spits on his hand generously, giving Joel a few more tugs before lining him up with his tight ring of muscle.

“Shit, boy… no stranger to this, huh?”

Frankie just blushes, slowly lowering down to Joel’s lap, moaning as his greedy hole takes inch after inch until he’s sitting flush with Joel’s pelvis. He rises and falls a few times before finding a slow, steady rhythm, throwing his head back and bouncing eagerly up and down.

You watch in awe as Frankie fucks himself on Joel’s cock, resting his arms on Joel’s broad shoulders just like you do, Joel’s hands sitting on Frankie’s hips just like they do on your own. You feel your core flutter at the sight, half unaware of the whiny whimper that falls from your lips and fully unaware of your hand traveling south to play with the slick still drenching your folds.

The noise makes Joel turn his head and he extends his hand to you dragging you closer to him. He grabs your cheek and kisses you, his tongue begging entry into your mouth as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie wills his eyes open, watching the two of you make out right in front of him. It makes his cock throb as he bounces harder, a little faster, and Joel can feel him getting impatient.He pulls away from your desperate mouth, holding Frankie’s hips still and met with a whining protest about it. 

“Calm down a sec, cowboy. Got an idea…” You both look to him with curious, fucked out eyes. “Gonna lay back an’ you’re gonna ride my face just like you did for him, ‘kay princess?”

You nod back firmly, making a move towards him—

“Ah, ah— eager girl. Wasn’t finished…” he turns and looks at Frankie. “You got a hard job, think you can handle it?”

Frankie nods just as firmly, desperate to hear his rules to follow. “U-uh huh, I can handle it. Please.”

“Gonna keep ridin’ this cock, got it? But… you don’t cum ‘til I say so. Not even when she does. Not ‘til I say.”

Frankie’s chest jumps as his breath hitches, a grunt of a moan stifled at the back of his throat. His eyes flutter as he nods, trying desperately to keep his hips stilled and finding it harder and harder.

“We all good?” 

“Yes— yeah, all good,” you and Frankie both enthusiastically agree, desperate for more.

Joel leans back, tugging your hand his way. As you go to straddle him, he stops you. “Face him, baby. He didn’t get to see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

Your eyes roll a bit as you lazily agree, spinning around to face Frankie. Sweat makes his forehead twinkle as he slowly rocks and bobs in Joel’s lap. You lower onto Joel’s face and immediately brace yourself on his belly, the feeling of his tongue more intense this time, still sensitive from before.

As hard as it is to keep his eyes open, Frankie can’t peel his gaze away from your face, contorted in pleasure as moans spill from your lips. “Oh, Joel… fuck, yes…”

Frankie can’t help but reach towards you, just wanting to touch you, feel your body… he cups your tits over your bra that you quickly undo and toss off the bed, desperate to feel his hands on your skin. “Go ahead, Frankie. Touch me, please,” you beg, holding his hands to your chest and squeezing them.

He mirrors you, kneading the flesh there and quickly throwing you back into the fire as Joel’s skillful tongue brings you closer and closer to the edge already. He never fails to unravel you in an instant, his tongue memorizing every inch of you right down to the softest spots that send you reeling in the blink of an eye.

It’s barely long at all before you feel the fire burning in your belly again, growing and growing as you desperately try to last just a little longer.

You distract yourself in Frankie, mesmerized by his face and his body that you wish you could see more of, hiding under his t-shirt that’s somehow still on.

“This—” you say, pawing at the hem of his shirt, “Off. Get this off—”

He doesn’t hesitate to help you peel his shirt off his sweaty body, throwing it haphazardly off the bed. His body is beautiful, the curves of his belly mirroring Joel’s so closely, and your hands are drawn to his skin like magnets, feeling every inch you can reach.

You don’t realize you’re lifting away from Joel’s face until he yanks you back down again, mercilessly lapping at your folds.

He pulls off again, just for a moment. “‘Member angel, he can’t come ‘til I say. Longer you’re ridin’ my face, longer he’s gotta wait.”

He’s back on your cunt in an instant, and your fluttering eyes barely catch the aroused and panicked expression on Frankie’s face. His cock makes a mess of Joel’s belly below, the leaking head spilling pearly white now as it gets harder and harder to stave off his orgasm. He languidly rocks back and forth trying desperately not to spill all over Joel’s gut before he’s allowed to.

Watching Frankie try so hard to keep his composure, teetering on the edge of collapse, turns you on more than you can even describe. Your hips move on their own at this point, or maybe it’s purely Joel rocking you in just the way he knows drives you crazy.

“Talk to ‘er,” he mumbles to Frankie from under your wet heat.

Your eyes blow wide, the growing fire turning to a blaze when Frankie opens his mouth.

“Fuck… g-gonna fucking cum for him too? Oh, shit… wanna… wanna see your face… when you—”

Frankie’s babbling is cut off by your moans as you cum for a second time tonight, thighs quivering and hips bucking on Joel’s face. He licks you through it, controlling the movement of your hips as you lose all control.

“Oh, my god… h-holy shit—” Frankie stops all movement, seconds away from making a mess of himself, Joel, and you sitting in front of him. His eyes bolt shut as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, shaking when Joel eases you off of his face. 

He sits up cupping Frankie’s face in his hands. “Got a little more fight in you?”

Frankie takes a deep breath. “Mhm… yeah, uh huh…”

Joel chuckles low, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Good. Hop off.”

Frankie’s eyes pop open, but he obliges, easing himself off of Joel’s length with a whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Go ‘head and climb up there,” Joel instructs gently as Frankie climbs onto the bed where you lay, still a puddle of overstimulated mess. Joel gently tugs at your ankles pulling you towards the end of the bed, leaning down to kiss you, soft and sweet. 

“Can you gimme one more, angel? Can you stay up for me?”

Your eyes try their best to focus on his face, a hazy blur clouding your vision just a bit as you hum and nod to him. “Uh huh… can stay up…”

“Attagirl… alright, hands and knees, baby.”

You do as you’re told, flipping over and around so your backside faces him at the end of the bed. He stands over your body, hands gliding over the globes of your ass, up your back, stroking every inch of bare skin spread in front of him. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous…” he mumbles, before laying a tap to your ass, causing you to jolt a little and whine at the contact. “Alright Frankie…” Frankie perks up, hanging onto Joel’s every word. “‘M gonna take this pretty hole back here… An’ you take that one up there. Sounds good?”

You clench around nothing. The idea of both of them filling you as much as you can take… Using you for their pleasure…

“Fuck… yeah, good, mhm…” Frankie babbles, shimmying himself to kneel in front of you.

You look up at him, down his body, to his ruddy cock, hard as diamond right in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight and you motion for him to come a little closer.

Joel grabs his length, lining the head up with your entrance. You stifle a whimper at just the contact of his fat tip pressing into your most sensitive spots. “Ready?” he asks. You both whimper a yes, ready.

They both enter you at the same time, sliding into you wet, wanting holes cautiously first, but easily. So, so easily. The three of you groan in pleasure, them from your warmth and you from the fullness.

Joel sets a pace, fucking in and out of your dripping cunt with ease, quite a feat for the sheer fucking size of him, but you’re so worked up that you practically suck him in and dont dare to let him go. Frankie doesn’t follow Joel’s face, testing the waters of your throat and what it can take.

“She can handle it, boy. If she can take all’a me, she can take all’a you too,” Joel says with a wink.

Neither one of them is small by any means, but Joel was right. He was a bit thicker than Frankie is, and it took a while for your mouth to get used to his size. And while Frankie wasn’t as thick, he might have been just a little longer. It was impossible to tell now, though, they both felt impossibly huge stuffed inside of you, each of them chasing their own highs.

Joel’s pace has already picked up, the warm walls of your pussy crying for him to keep going, don’t stop, right there… the grip on your hips unforgiving as he slams in and drags back out over and over and over…

Frankie keeps rocking into your mouth, a little faster now, and you taste the salty precum leaking onto your tongue and down your throat.

“So fuckin’ hot, angel… stuffed so fuckin’ full…”

“God, you feel good…” Frankie whispers down to you, and you wish you could see his face while you take him to the hilt. Instead, you pull away and spit directly onto the head of his cock before taking him back into your throat completely, using one hand to play with his balls. “Oh, fuck… oh, fuck…”

“Ah ah, boy— unh— not— not ‘til I say,” Joel reminds him.

Frankie takes a few deep breaths, holding your face so delicately, like it could break, trying to ground himself and fucking focus…

“One more, baby, one more right on this cock… an’ then you can too, boy…”

Joel fucks you harder, faster, bruising your cervix with every thrust, the ridges of his cock dragging along every nerve ending in your walls bringing you closer, and closer, and closer—

“Oh, fuck, Joel! Right there! Don’t fucking stop!”

He doesn’t. Not at all. He keeps the same relentless pace, hitting that soft spot deep inside you that he always finds without fail. You flutter around his length, clamping down on him as he reaches around your front to find your clit. He teases your little bundle of nerves, circle after circle after circle, hurdling you closer and closer to release.

“Fuck, tha’s right, baby. Tha’s fuckin’ right.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum, Joel,” Frankie cries, his hips bucking out of rhythm.

“Yeah? Gonna spill down her throat while she’s creamin’ my cock? Go ‘head, both of y’all, at the same time. C’mon—” he grunts, one strong thrust sending you reeling, spasming, damn near collapsing onto the bed as your third orgasm rips through you at an earth-shattering rate.

“Jesus fucking christ—” Frankie groans before his own thighs are trembling, his cock throbbing in your mouth as ropes of cum shoot down your throat, fucking himself in your mouth through his own high, the vibrations from your moans making his body shiver as you drain him empty.

Like dominos falling, Joel is next to go, painting your walls with his spend at the sight of you and Frankie falling apart right in front of him, throbbing in your overstimulated cunt as both ends suck each man dry.

The three of you are a pile of huffing, heaving messes, catching your breaths and dripping sweat onto your sheets. After a minute, Joel slowly slides out of you, his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and dripping onto the sheets. The rest of your body plops down onto the mattress when he lets you go.

Joel steps back and looks at the two of you, sprawled out on the bed in a completely fucked out daze, and chuckles.

“Guess that that was a good enough present for the two’a you, huh?”

You both give a tired, breathy giggle stretching and wiggling around the mattress. You crawl up towards Frankie laying on the pillows and curl into him, and he welcomes you like this is something you’ve always done, with ease, with comfort.

Joel walks into your bathroom and returns with a towel, cleaning you up before climbing next to you, now sandwiched between the two burly men, all three of you basking in post-coital bliss.

“That is… not how I thought the night would end,” Frankie says with a sigh and a chuckle.

You giggle back. “No? Not even a little?” you tease.

Frankie hums a laugh. “So, was this… is this something that you guys… talked about before?”

You turn a little and look at Joel who is just admiring the two of you. His eyebrows raise a bit, an exhale of a laugh leaving his lungs. “Hmm… I mean, It’s come up a few times.”

Frankie turns his head to look at Joel, silently asking for more.

“Started that first time you came over an’ it just… I don’t know, it would come up from time to time. Was never opposed to the idea and… Tonight was the night the pieces fell just right, I s’pose,” he explains, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You can see it haunting Frankie’s lips too, threatening to show just how much he enjoyed this too.

“Think it’s safe to say we all enjoyed it, huh?” you tease again, nudging Frankie and throwing Joel a knowing glance. Frankie turns away, blushing.

The three of you cuddle a little closer, savoring each other’s company, glowing with pleasure as you lay there, falling asleep knowing things might have changed, but for the absolute better.

[sailorrhansol]

i'm a ho ho ho..... cheol/chan/reader.... bonus if chan is in a "learning" role and cheol is in charge of the whole thing :) :) :) my brain is a basic bitch i can't do anything with her

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

Word Count: 5,632

Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

Type:  Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. Nickname use: baby for reader, Channie for Chan and one (1) Cheolie for Seungcheol

A/N: Mojo Jojo Siwa I love you so much. Happy belated birthday but also happy it-took-me-three-weeks-to-fill-your-request. I BELIEVE IN BOYS KISSING BOYS DURING THREESOMES SO IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT SHIT GO AWAY. ALL SIDES OF THE TRIANGLE TOUCH IN MY WORLD BECAUSE BISEXUAL SUPREMACY. Anyway - here is this absolute filth and dream that Jo convinced me to write - I cannot be held accountable for how many times hands and mouth and spit are mentioned thank you 🫡

A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliday’s Request Event

Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

-

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[julietsf1]

Holly Jolly Faking - Franco Colapinto x St.Mleux!Reader

summary: Two people who can’t stand each other agree to fake a relationship to avoid meddling friends and unwanted matchmaking during their Christmas weekend away. What could possibly go wrong? (8k words)

content: fake dating! reader is Alexandra's sister; Franco is COMMITTED;

AN: who doesn't love a good fake dating scenario? happy holidays sweeties!

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

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the icy path leading to the chalet, Alexandra practically bouncing beside you. She clutched your arm, grinning as if dragging you along to a winter wonderland wasn’t her latest attempt at orchestrating your personal life.

“You’re going to love this,” she insisted, her voice carrying above the stillness of the snowy evening. “I don’t think you’ve ever been to a Friendmas like this one.”

You shot her a look. “Alex, you’ve been talking about this weekend non-stop. I know exactly what to expect.”

She huffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “Yes, but actually being here? It’s magic. Charles did such an amazing job with the tree. You have to see it!”

“Is that before or after you shove me into George’s arms?”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether from the cold or guilt, you couldn’t tell. “Oh, stop it. George is lovely. You could at least give him a chance.”

“Alex,” you said pointedly, pausing to adjust your scarf, “I’m here for you, Charles, and the snow. Not a setup.”

“Fine, fine.” She waved you off, though her mischievous grin lingered as she dragged you forward.

The chalet came into view, its A-frame design illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped over its sloped roof. Smoke curled from the chimney, and warm golden light spilled from the windows, giving it a postcard-perfect charm. It was gorgeous. You hated that Alexandra had been right about it being magical.

The door flew open before you even reached the steps, Charles Leclerc standing there with his signature grin. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he wore a red sweater that made him look annoyingly festive.

“Finally!” he called out, spreading his arms as if to gather you both into a hug. “We thought you’d gotten lost in the snow.”

“Blame Y/N,” Alexandra said, releasing your arm to greet him. “She moves like a glacier.”

“Only because you packed half your wardrobe in the car,” you shot back, but Charles laughed, pulling you into a brief, warm hug.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. Welcome to Friendmas!”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing past him into the chalet. Laughter and voices carried from inside, blending with the crackle of a fireplace.

“Come in, come in,” Charles urged, stepping aside. “Everyone’s excited to see you—Lando is even more energetic than usual.”

“Lovely,” you muttered as Alexandra pushed you through the door.

The interior was just as cozy and picturesque as the exterior promised. Pine garlands hung from the rafters, and a massive Christmas tree stood in one corner, decked out with ornaments and twinkling lights. The scent of fresh pine mingled with hints of cinnamon and something buttery, probably cookies.

A chorus of voices greeted you from the living room. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri were sprawled across the couches, mid-conversation, while Carlos Sainz lounged nearby, sipping from a mug. Max Verstappen, wearing his signature Red Bull polo, leaned against the back of an armchair, holding what I can only suspect is a glühwein in his hands.

“Y/N!” Lando called out, bounding up from the couch like an overexcited puppy. “Finally! We need reinforcements.”

“For what?” you asked, setting your bag down near the stairs.

“To take down Max and Carlos,” Oscar explained, deadpan. “They’ve been dominating every game we’ve played since we got here.”

“It’s not domination,” Carlos corrected, grinning. “It’s skill.”

Max gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement.

“You mean cheating,” Lando muttered, earning a laugh from Oscar.

“Welcome to the madness,” Alexandra said, nudging you forward. “Get comfortable. There’s a lot, but it’s fun.”

“And I’m sure George will be thrilled to see you,” Charles added, his teasing tone making you bristle.

“Where is he?” Alexandra asked, glancing around.

“In the kitchen,” Carlos said. “Probably perfecting the whipped cream on his cocoa or something.”

“I heard that,” George Russell called out, appearing from the kitchen doorway. He carried two steaming mugs, his sweater perfectly fitted and his hair neatly combed, as always.

“Y/N, how wonderful to see you,” George said warmly, handing one mug to Alexandra.

“You too,” you replied, noting the subtle look Alexandra threw you. You shot her a glare in return.

And then, of course, Franco made his entrance.

He leaned against the fireplace, his green eyes glinting with amusement as he surveyed the scene. His tousled hair and casual stance gave him an air of effortless confidence, which only annoyed you further.

“Y/N,” Franco’s voice broke through the chatter, his tone slow and laced with mockery. “What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d make it. Busy schedule of glaring at people, I’m sure.”

“Franco,” you replied, deadpan, without so much as a glance in his direction.

The others continued their conversations, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, but Franco stepped closer, his smirk growing like he could sense your irritation.

“Still radiating warmth and goodwill, I see,” he quipped, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Still trying way too hard to be funny,” you shot back, finally turning to face him.

His grin widened. “Oh, come on. I’m hilarious, and you know it. People have been laughing all evening.”

“At you, maybe,” you replied smoothly.

The retort earned the faintest snicker from Lando in the background, but Franco remained unfazed. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if to keep the exchange just between you. “I’ve missed this, you know. You keeping me in check. Someone has to, I suppose.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, your tone cutting. “Keeping you in check would imply you’re worth the effort.”

His smirk grew as he straightened, undeterred. “You’re quick today. Must be all that Christmas cheer getting to you.”

“Must be,” you deadpanned, narrowing your eyes.

For a moment, you stared each other down, his grin still annoyingly present as your pulse quickened in frustration. The way he looked at you, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons, made your skin prickle.

“Anything else, Franco?” you asked, your tone clipped.

“Not yet,” he replied smoothly. “But don’t go too far. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

With a final smirk, he leaned back against the counter, casually reaching for a glass like the conversation hadn’t just left you fuming. You turned back to the others, but the weight of his gaze lingered, prickling at the edge of your awareness.

…

The dining room buzzed with warmth and chatter, the glow of candles reflecting off plates piled high with roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. Alexandra had gone all out, decorating the table with garlands of pine and gold-rimmed glasses, while Charles played the perfect host, ensuring everyone’s wine was topped off.

You were trying your best to enjoy the evening, but sitting between George and Franco wasn’t making that easy.

George, ever the gentleman, was pleasant enough, keeping the conversation light. He asked about your travels and your work, always attentive and polite, and while you appreciated his effort, the attention made you squirm. Alexandra, of course, wasn’t helping.

“So, Y/N,” Alexandra began, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Isn’t it nice to have someone else here who knows Monaco as well as you do?”

You resisted the urge to sigh. “Sure, Alex. It’s always nice.”

George, ever gracious, smiled at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent a proper holiday there. There’s something special about it in the winter, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, forcing a polite smile of your own. “The harbor looks magical with all the lights.”

Alexandra pounced on your response like a cat with a mouse. “Exactly! George, doesn’t that sound like the perfect setting for a romantic evening?”

“Alex,” you warned, your voice laced with both amusement and irritation.

“What?” she asked innocently, though the twinkle in her eye gave her away. “I’m just saying. You two have so much in common. You could plan a trip back together!”

Your face burned, and you quickly took a sip of your wine to hide your discomfort. “I think George has plenty of plans that don’t involve me tagging along,” you said lightly.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind,” George said, his smile kind. “I reckon it would be nice to have someone to share the nostalgia with.”

Your smile wavered as you searched for a way to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Alexandra was relentless.

“See? It’s perfect!” she declared. “I mean, what are the chances? It’s practically fate.”

Your grip on your fork tightened. “I think that’s a bit of a stretch, Alex.”

Charles, ever the romantic, sighed wistfully. “Love often comes when you least expect it. Imagine walking along the harbor together, the lights reflecting on the water…”

You groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are we discussing this at the dinner table, guys?”

“Because it’s fun,” Lando chimed in, grinning. “So tell me, do you like horses? I know George adores posh shit like Polo.”

Your laughter faltered, your cheeks flushing as all eyes turned to you. The attention felt suffocating, and you fumbled for a response.

“Lando, that’s enough,” you said, your tone more strained than you intended.

“Oh, come on,” Alexandra added, her smile too wide. “You and George would make such a good match. It’s about time you found someone who—”

Franco coughed loudly, the deliberate sound slicing through the chatter. Everyone turned to him, their laughter and conversation abruptly halting. He leaned back in his chair, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he set his wineglass down with theatrical precision.

“She’s with me, actually,” Franco said casually, his voice ringing with the kind of confidence that demanded attention.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You froze, your fork clattering against your plate as your brain scrambled to make sense of what he’d just said. The warmth of the room seemed to vanish, replaced by a prickling heat crawling up your neck.

“What?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible.

Franco didn’t so much as flinch. He shifted slightly in his chair, and before you could react, he reached over, sliding his hand over yours where it rested on the table. His touch was warm, his grip firm but not forceful. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as his smirk widened.

“You heard me,” he said, his tone maddeningly smooth. “I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.”

Alexandra’s jaw dropped, her wide-eyed gaze darting between the two of you. “You’re joking,” she said flatly.

“Not at all,” Franco replied, looking entirely unbothered. His fingers drummed lightly against the back of your hand, a silent challenge. “Isn’t that right, sugarplum?”

The word hung in the air like a ticking bomb. Your pulse thundered in your ears as every pair of eyes at the table turned to you.

Your throat felt dry, and your voice cracked when you finally managed to speak. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Oscar was the first to break. His laughter erupted like a tidal wave, loud and uncontrollable, as he nearly fell back in his chair. He clutched his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. “This… is… the best thing… I’ve ever heard!” he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.

Lando wasn’t far behind, his wide grin splitting into a delighted laugh. “No way. You two?!”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” George said, his tone laced with disbelief.

Charles, however, looked positively enchanted. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together like a starstruck poet. “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin,” he declared, his eyes practically sparkling.

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this is a twist.”

Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a skeptical look. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Alexandra, however, wasn’t so easily convinced. She narrowed her eyes at you, her brows knitting together in confusion. “But… when? How? You’ve barely even mentioned Franco to me.”

“It has been a whirlwind,” Franco interjected smoothly, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Right, my little lovebug?”

You glared at him, your jaw clenched as you fought the urge to strangle him on the spot. “Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Fascinating,” Alexandra said, still clearly unconvinced.

“Tell us everything!” Lando demanded, leaning forward like a gossip-hungry child. “When did this start? Was it one of those dramatic, enemies-to-lovers things? Did you secretly kiss during a race weekend?”

“Lando,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.

He leaned back, unbothered, and waved you off. “Fine, fine. Keep your secrets.”

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N,” George said, his expression hovering somewhere between confusion and polite disappointment.

“Trust me, George,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

The teasing and laughter continued, the group trading increasingly wild theories about your so-called relationship. Meanwhile, Franco seemed to bask in the chaos he’d created, his smirk never wavering as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Under the table, his knee brushed yours, and you shot him a death glare. “What the hell are you doing?” you hissed under your breath.

“Saving you,” he replied quietly, his tone annoyingly casual.

“By making my life worse?”

He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Oh, come on. You’d rather sit through more matchmaking from Alexandra?”

You couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t make you any less furious.

As the group began to move on, shifting the conversation back to other topics, you slumped slightly in your chair, exhausted from the ordeal.

This was going to be a very, very long weekend.

…

The morning sun streamed into the chalet’s large windows, gilding the room in gold. You stirred your coffee slowly, staring out at the snow-covered peaks in the distance. Peace and quiet were rare in a house full of such chaotic personalities, but you’d stolen this moment for yourself.

Or so you thought.

“Morning, sugarplum.”

The sound of Franco’s voice made you visibly tense. You didn’t need to look to know he was leaning against the doorframe, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’re really committed to that name, aren’t you?” you asked flatly, turning just enough to shoot him a withering look.

“Would you prefer ‘honeybun’?” he replied smoothly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Or maybe ‘snugglebear’? I’m flexible.”

“How about you don’t call me anything?”

“Not very girlfriend-like of you, sweetheart,” he teased, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning casually against the counter. “People might start to doubt us.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “If anyone doubts us, it’s because you’re about as subtle as a flashing neon sign.”

Franco grinned. “What can I say? I’m commited.”

Before you could retort, Lando appeared, sliding into the kitchen with his usual chaotic energy. “What’s this?” he asked, his grin widening as his eyes flicked between you and Franco. “Secret lovebird meeting?”

“We’re not—” you began, but Franco cut you off, slinging an arm around your shoulders with infuriating ease.

“Just waking up my muffin,” he said smoothly.

“Muffin?” Lando repeated, his eyebrows shooting up.

“She’s sweet like one,” Franco explained, giving you a squeeze that you immediately wriggled out of.

Lando barked out a laugh, grabbing an apple from the counter. “You two are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he left the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Franco with a scowl. “What the hell have you gotten me into.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking. “Although I am loving seeing you worked up like this.”

You crossed your arms tightly, your glare unwavering. “You could’ve warned me before throwing me into this mess.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his voice maddeningly light. “You’re quick on your feet; I figured you’d keep up.”

Your frustration bubbled over, and you took a step closer, pointing at him. “This is not fun, Franco. This is me playing along so you don’t make it worse.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking again. “You’ll get used to it. And honestly? You’re kind of good at it.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Stop calling me that! This isn’t a game.”

His grin only widened, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze as he said, “It’s not a game, but it is very entertaining. Trust me, you’ll survive.”

Your jaw tightened, and you turned away, trying to steady yourself. “If you call me ‘cupcake’ one more time, I swear—”

“Duly noted,” he interrupted, his voice filled with amusement.

You huffed, grabbing the spoon and stirring your coffee again, trying to focus on anything but the smug grin you could still feel behind you.

...

Later that afternoon, you found yourself elbow-deep in a bowl of icing, surrounded by flour-dusted countertops and trays of freshly baked cookies. The group had decided on a cookie-decorating contest, and Alexandra had enlisted everyone with the enthusiasm of a drill sergeant.

“You’re going down,” Lando declared, grabbing a piping bag.

“Not likely,” Max replied, his expression as stoic as ever, though his hands worked with surprising precision.

You were concentrating on spreading icing over a snowman-shaped cookie when Franco appeared at your side.

“Need help, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

“No,” you replied sharply, but he was already grabbing a piping bag and leaning into your space.

“You missed a spot,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned even closer.

Before you could react, he dipped a finger into a bowl of icing and held it up to your mouth.

“Say ahh,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Franco,” you hissed, your cheeks burning as the others turned to watch.

“Come on, sugarplum,” he said. “You’ve got to taste test your work.”

Gritting your teeth, you opened your mouth just enough to swipe the icing off his finger with a quick flick of your tongue. The room erupted into a mix of laughter and groans.

“That’s disgusting,” Lando said, though he was clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Get a room,” Max muttered, though his lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

You glared at Franco, but his smirk only grew. Grabbing the nearest piping bag, you squeezed a glob of icing onto your fingers and smeared it across his cheek.

“There,” you said sweetly. “You missed a spot.”

The table roared with laughter, and Franco’s grin never faltered as he wiped the icing off with a napkin. “You’re feisty today, snugglebear.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, though there was a faint twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

Alexandra, who was trying to keep the peace, clapped her hands together. “No arguing please. This is supposed to be festive!”

“Don’t worry,” Franco said, his voice smooth as ever. “We’re perfectly fine. Right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, instead turning your attention back to your cookies.

“Don’t be shy, sugarplum,” Franco added, leaning closer. “Tell them how much you love me.”

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

“Love you too, honeybear.”

…

By the time the chaos of the afternoon subsided, you were desperate for solitude. The chalet’s constant buzz of laughter and chatter had become too much, so you slipped away, finding refuge in the small, cozy study near the back of the house.

The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. You curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a cup of hot chocolate warming your hands as you tried to collect your thoughts.

The peace didn’t last long.

The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Found you, sugarplum,” Franco’s infuriatingly smug voice broke the silence.

You groaned, not turning around. “Go away, Franco.”

“And miss this little brooding session? Not a chance,” he said, closing the door behind him.

You heard his footsteps cross the room, and within moments, he was perched on the armrest of your chair, his presence looming far too close for comfort.

“What do you want?” you snapped, finally looking up at him.

“To check on my darling girlfriend,” he replied smoothly, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “You seemed a little… tense earlier.”

“I wonder why,” you said dryly, taking a sip of your cocoa.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, feigning thoughtfulness. “Is it because your sister is practically shoving you at George every five seconds? Good thing I swooped in to save you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You didn’t save me. You made it worse.”

“Worse?” he repeated, mock-offended. “I saved you from months of awkward George politeness and Alexandra’s relentless matchmaking. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you repeated, incredulous. “For turning my life into a circus?”

Franco smirked, leaning closer. “You’ve got to admit, it’s entertaining.”

You glared at him. “For who? You?”

“For everyone,” he said, laughing softly. “But mostly me.”

Your grip tightened on your mug, your patience hanging by a thread. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, grinning. “Your knight in shining armor.”

You snorted. “More like the villain in a rom-com.”

“Rom-com?” he mused. “I like that. Does that make you the quirky lead who doesn’t realize she’s in love with me until the final act?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with the faintest twitch.

“No, you don’t,” he said lightly, leaning back as if he had all the time in the world.

The fire popped loudly, filling the silence that followed. For a brief moment, his teasing smirk softened, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable.

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Why are you really here, Franco?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, but a subtle hint of sincerity was now present in his voice. “Just checking in. Making sure my favorite sugarplum isn’t plotting my demise.”

“I’m always plotting your demise,” you said flatly.

“Good to know,” he said, standing but lingering by your side. For once, his smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “But seriously… take it easy, okay?” He paused, his voice dropping slightly. “I’ll make sure tomorrow isn’t so bad.”

He was halfway to the door when it swung open again, revealing Lando, grinning like he’d just stumbled upon a jackpot.

“What’s this? Private lovebird time?” he asked, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

“Oh, absolutely,” Franco said, his grin widening. “She couldn’t keep away.”

You groaned, setting your cocoa down. “Lando, please.”

He ignored you, leaning casually against the doorframe. “So, Franco, what’s tomorrow’s nickname? Angelcake? Lovebug?”

“Love nugget,” Franco replied instantly, his smirk smug as ever.

Lando cackled, nearly doubling over. “Love nugget! Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan. “You’re all insufferable.”

“No, no,” Franco corrected, his grin widening. “I’m the insufferable one. They’re just my audience.”

“Exactly,” Lando chimed in, still laughing. “We’re just here for the show.”

Franco clapped him on the shoulder as he left the room. “Come on. Let’s leave my little honey bunny to her brooding.”

You threw a pillow at them as they walked out, but your aim was off, and their laughter echoed down the hall.

…

The living room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth as snow fell softly outside. Lando stood at the center of the room, waving a bowl filled with folded slips of paper.

“All right, people!” he declared, his grin as wide as ever. “Time for charades! Teams have been pre-assigned by yours truly, so no arguing.”

“Lando, what did you do?” Carlos asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Created the perfect teams, duh,” Lando replied smugly. “Here we go. Team one: Alex and Charles. Team two: George and Oscar. Team three: Max and Carlos. And finally… Franco and Y/N!”

You groaned audibly, shooting Lando a glare. “Seriously?”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

Franco leaned closer, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Look at that, sugarplum. Fate wants us to win.”

“How wonderful,” you muttered under your breath.

“Okay, everyone knows the rules,” Lando continued, ignoring the tension between you and Franco. “No talking, sound effects are allowed, but only one person on the team acts at a time. And remember, you’ve got thirty seconds per round. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, settling into their seats as Lando pulled the first slip from the bowl.

The first few rounds were as chaotic as expected. Alex’s exaggerated gestures left Charles laughing too hard to guess, and George and Oscar worked surprisingly well together, securing a few easy points. Max and Carlos turned every clue into a competitive showdown, each accusing the other of overcomplicating things.

By the time it was your team’s turn, the energy in the room was electric, and the scoreboard showed a tight race between George and Oscar’s team and Max and Carlos’s.

“Franco, you’re up!” Lando announced, handing him a slip of paper.

Franco unfolded it, his smirk growing as he read the word. Without a word, he turned to you and held out his hand.

“Come here,” he said simply.

You narrowed your eyes, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he replied, his tone smooth as ever.

Reluctantly, you stepped forward, and he wasted no time pulling you into the center of the room.

“Franco, what are you doing?” you hissed, but he ignored you.

The room fell silent as everyone watched him intently. Without warning, he placed one hand firmly on your back and clasped your other hand in his.

“Wait—”

Before you could protest, he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in, his movements fluid and precise.

“Is this—”

“Shh,” he whispered.

Your heart stumbled in your chest as he led you through an impromptu tango, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle, his hand steady on your back as his green eyes locked with yours.

The room erupted in cheers and laughter, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, loud and insistent in your ears.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in for a final dip.

“Guess the word, sugarplum,” Franco whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Your brain refused to cooperate. You opened your mouth, but no words came out as your heart pounded in your chest as you stared up at him, completely flustered..

“Uh…”

“Time’s up!” Lando shouted, his laughter ringing above the chaos. “The word was ‘tango!’”

“Oh, come on,” Franco groaned, straightening up and releasing you. “She had one job.”

“I—” You struggled to form a coherent sentence, still reeling from the unexpected intensity of the moment.

“She was too flustered,” Oscar said with a grin. “Can’t blame her for that.”

“You call that acting out?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow. “That was more like showing off.”

“Showing off or not,” Charles interjected, his eyes alight with romantic fervor, “it was beautiful. Truly.”

Carlos clapped Franco on the back. “Points for commitment.”

Lando was practically in tears, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Please, we should do Friendmas more often! You guys are killing me.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at Franco. “Was that really necessary?”

“I wasn’t trying to win,” Franco said casually, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Just wanted to make it memorable.”

The laughter and teasing in the living room still rang in your ears as you slipped away into the quiet of the kitchen. The glow of the firelight from the other room faded behind you, replaced by the soft hum of the under-cabinet lights. Snow fell steadily outside the large window, each flake illuminated by the warm outdoor lanterns.

Leaning against the counter, you cradled a glass of water in your hands. The coolness seeped through your fingers, grounding you, though it did little to steady the erratic beat of your heart. The tango performance replayed in your mind—Franco’s confident hold, the sharp dip, and the way his gaze lingered on yours a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you turn, startled. George stood in the doorway, his posture upright, his expression thoughtful but tinged with hesitation.

“George,” you said, offering a small smile. “Everything all right?”

He stepped inside, his shoes tapping softly against the polished wood floor. “I was about to ask you the same. You seemed, well, rather unsettled during charades. I wanted to make sure you’re… alright.”

You laughed softly, trying to deflect. “Just overwhelmed, I guess. All the attention gets a bit much sometimes.”

George raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. He moved a little closer, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers with an air of casual elegance. “May I speak frankly?”

“Of course,” you replied, though a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, his words carefully measured. “Are you and Franco actually serious?”

The question hit harder than you expected.

George continued, his voice soft but deliberate. “It’s just… unexpected. I didn’t think he was, er, your sort of man. But if he makes you happy, that’s what matters. I merely—” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “I’d hate to think you’re settling for anything less than what you deserve.”

Your throat tightened. The sincerity in his tone was disarming, and the lie you’d been weaving all weekend felt heavier than ever.

“I—” You faltered, words failing you.

The door swung open, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Franco stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. His gaze flicked between you and George, his green eyes sharp but unreadable. His usual smirk was tempered, his expression calm but watchful.

“Hi there,” Franco said, his voice light but laced with a quiet edge. “Am I interrupting something?”

George turned slightly, his shoulders still relaxed but his tone more clipped. “Not at all. Y/N and I were just having a chat.”

Franco’s eyes lingered on you, and without a word, he stepped closer, his hand sliding to rest gently on your waist. The touch was subtle but deliberate, his fingers warm against the fabric of your sweater.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Franco said, his smirk returning faintly. “But don’t keep her too long. I might start missing her.”

George’s brow twitched, his eyes flicking briefly to Franco’s hand before returning to yours. “Right,” he said after a moment, his voice still measured. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He hesitated, his gaze softening as it lingered on you. “Do let me know if you need anything, Y/N.”

“Thank you, George,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He nodded once before stepping out, the door closing softly behind him.

The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the distance. Franco didn’t move, his hand still resting firmly on your waist.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice quieter than you expected.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His lips twitched, a faint smirk threatening to appear, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you replied, though the slight shake in your voice betrayed you.

He tilted his head, his gaze fixed on yours. “Because you disappeared pretty quickly after the game.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued before you could.

“I came to check on you,” he said, his tone casual but deliberate. “Can’t say I’m surprised though that George went to find you first.”

Your brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Franco shifted slightly, his thumb brushing subtly against your waist in a way that sent an unexpected jolt through you. “He clearly wanted to test the water,” he said, his voice low, almost conversational. “Cornering you in here like that. Asking questions he knows might throw you off.”

“Sure, sweet George had sneaky intentions,” you said, though a soft laugh escaped you.

“For sure,” Franco insisted, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features. “He’s too polite to make it obvious, but trust me, he knows what he’s doing.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Franco replied, the smirk returning. His thumb moved again, a slow, absent stroke against your side as he spoke. “He’s clever enough to know when to push without it looking like he’s pushing.”

“And you think that’s what he was doing?”

“Even is he wasn't,” Franco said, meeting your gaze squarely. For a moment, his usual bravado was replaced by something more sincere, more grounded. “I just wanted to make sure he knows you’re mine.”

Your breath caught, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

He must have noticed the way your expression shifted because he chuckled softly, his smirk softening. “You know, for now. Until this whole thing is over and you can go back to being everyone’s favorite single lady.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was pounding. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Very noble,” he said, his tone teasing again. “It’s hard work being such a convincing fake boyfriend.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” he repeated, his smirk deepening. “Or exactly what you need?”

The moment stretched, his hand still resting on your waist, his touch grounding and unnervingly warm. For a split second, it felt like the world outside the kitchen had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet space.

“You know,” you said quietly, barely meeting his gaze, “Alexandra’s matchmaking ideas don’t exactly… line up with what I want. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Franco’s brow lifted slightly, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Good to know.”

He cleared his throat, stepping back just enough to give you some space but not enough to completely break the connection. “Come on, sugarplum. We should get back before Lando starts a search party.”

“Right,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He gestured for you to lead the way, his hand lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle before he finally let it fall.

As you stepped back into the chaos of the living room, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The smirk was back, his confident demeanor firmly in place, but something about the way he’d spoken lingered in your mind.

…

The lake glistened under the pale winter sun, the ice reflecting the snowy peaks surrounding it. The group was a riot of scarves, gloves, and thick jackets, their breath visible in the crisp, cold air.

“Right, bets are open!” Lando declared, pulling his gloves tighter. “Charles versus Carlos: who’s wiping out first?”

“Carlos,” Max said flatly, tightening his own skates.

“I’m offended,” Carlos shot back, puffing his chest dramatically.

“I’ll take that action,” Oscar quipped, producing a crumpled bill from his pocket.

Meanwhile, Franco stood next to you, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets as he watched the scene unfold with a grin. “Think you’ll make it through without falling, pudding pie?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Think you can go a full hour without making a comment like that?”

“Nope,” he replied, his grin widening.

Charles and Carlos were already on the ice, their playful bickering carrying across the frozen expanse as they started an impromptu race. Charles was fast but clumsy, slipping every few strides, while Carlos cackled loudly, skating circles around him.

Lando and Max, true to form, took their positions at the sidelines to heckle and place more bets.

You laced your skates carefully, trying to ignore the fact that Franco’s gaze was on you the entire time.

“Ready?” he asked as you stood, wobbling slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, though the smirk playing at the corners of his lips said otherwise.

The ice stretched out before you, gleaming under the pale winter sun like a vast, treacherous mirror. Each step felt like a gamble, your skates threatening to slip out from under you at any moment. Franco skated backward effortlessly in front of you, his movements smooth and confident, as if he’d been born to glide.

“You look like a baby deer,” he teased, his green eyes alight with amusement.

You shot him a glare, your arms flailing slightly as you tried to regain your balance. “Thanks for the support.”

“Relax,” he said, skating closer. His hands reached out instinctively, steadying you with a touch that was firmer than necessary but far from unwelcome. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, though you made no move to pull your hand away as he laced his fingers with yours.

He smirked, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a way that sent a small jolt of warmth through you. “Sure you don’t.”

Behind you, Lando’s voice rang out, cutting through the stillness of the lake.

“Max is going down! I can feel it!”

Max, ever unbothered, glided past with surprising ease. “You’re the one who’s going down, Lando,” he retorted without looking back.

Franco chuckled softly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the chaos around you before returning to your face. “You’re lucky I’m not like them.”

“What, loud and extremely present?” you quipped, your lips twitching in the beginnings of a smile.

“Exactly,” he replied, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the way your shoulders relaxed slightly under his steadying touch.

Taking a deep breath, you let go of his hand, feeling a surge of confidence as you took a tentative step on your own.

The sudden scrape of blades against ice drew your attention to George as he skated up beside you, his posture impossibly straight, his movements smooth and deliberate.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his tone warm and polite, as always.

You glanced at him, your heart sinking slightly at the hopeful look in his blue eyes. His hand hovered just in front of yours, an offer you knew he thought you might take.

“That’s sweet of you, George,” you said gently, forcing a small smile. “But I think Franco’s got it.”

His hand lowered slightly, and his expression shifted, though he recovered quickly.

Before the silence could stretch too far, you turned back to Franco, raising your free hand toward him. “Hold my hand again?”

Franco raised a brow, clearly surprised by the request, but he didn’t hesitate. His hand slid easily into yours, his grip firm and steady as he pulled you closer. “Anything for you, sugarplum.”

The words, playful as they were, carried a softness that hadn’t been there before, and for a moment, you forgot about the chill in the air.

George hesitated briefly, his gaze flicking between you and Franco, before nodding once. “All right then,” he said, his tone polite but slightly clipped. “I’ll let you two be.”

He skated ahead with a precision that seemed a little too deliberate, his back straight and his strides measured.

Franco watched him go, his lips twitching in the beginnings of a smirk. “Smooth,” he murmured, turning his attention back to you.

“Don’t start,” you said quickly, though the warmth of his hand made it impossible to sound annoyed.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “You could’ve let him help, you know.”

“I didn’t want his help,” you replied, your gaze fixed on the ice in front of you.

“No?” Franco’s smirk deepened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again in a motion so casual it felt intentional. “Guess I’m doing something right then.”

You didn’t respond, though your cheeks burned under his gaze. Instead, you focused on moving forward, your steps growing more confident with his hand in yours.

Around you, the chaos of the group continued unabated—Carlos yelling at Charles for cutting him off during their makeshift race, Lando shrieking as Max lunged at him with outstretched arms, and Oscar laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

But for a brief moment, it all faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your blades against the ice and the warmth of Franco’s hand in yours.

…

The chalet buzzed with noise and laughter as we stumbled back inside from the frozen lake. The warmth from the roaring fire hit me like a wave, thawing my frozen fingers and toes. Everyone was shedding layers—scarves, coats, gloves—creating a chaotic pile near the doorway.

“I had him!” Charles was practically shouting, his voice thick with indignation as he gestured wildly at Carlos. “He tripped me on purpose!”

Carlos, leaning casually against the back of a chair, raised a brow and smirked. “I didn’t trip you, mate. You tripped yourself.”

“Oh, sure,” Charles shot back, throwing his gloves down dramatically. “You just happened to be in my way.”

“Can someone trip him again? I need a replay,” Lando quipped, flopping onto the armrest of the couch with all the grace of a cat falling off a ledge.

“You’re all terrible,” Charles muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

“You know what’s really terrible?” Max cut in, pointing a finger at Lando. “Lando’s skating. I’ve seen toddlers with more grace.”

“Excuse me!” Lando sat up, mock-offended. “Who got you to fall, hmm? Oh, right—it was me. Call it strategy.”

“It was chaos,” Oscar said, sipping his tea as he perched on the edge of the couch. “Pure chaos.”

“Chaos,” Alexandra chimed in, walking past me as she unwound her scarf, “is you all trying to one-up each other like you’re in some kind of Winter Olympics tryout.”

“Alexandra, be honest,” Carlos said, leaning toward her. “Who was better—me or Charles?”

She pretended to consider it for a moment before shrugging. “Neither. You were both disasters in your own way.”

I snorted, pulling off my gloves and tucking them into my coat pocket. “She’s not wrong.”

Max turned his gaze to me, smirking. “Speaking of disasters, I saw you almost fall twice.”

“Almost being the key word,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You only survived because of him,” Max said, jerking his chin toward Franco, who was currently leaning against the fireplace like he had all the time in the world.

“Is that true?” Alexandra asked, her eyes flicking between Franco and me.

“Absolutely,” Franco said, his grin lazy as he met my gaze. “Graceful as ever, aren’t you, sugarplum?”

The group burst into laughter, and I felt my cheeks heat. I rolled my eyes, grabbing the hem of my sweater and pretending to brush off invisible dust. “I’m going to make hot chocolate. At least that won’t involve falling on my face.”

The kitchen was warm and quiet, a perfect escape from the chaos of the living room. I stirred the bubbling cocoa on the stove, letting the rhythmic motion calm me as the faint hum of voices filtered through the walls.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Franco stepping inside. His hair was still tousled from the cold, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something softer.

“Couldn’t resist joining me, huh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, someone had to check on the quality control of this hot chocolate,” he quipped, leaning casually against the counter.

I snorted, turning back to the pot. “As if you’re qualified to judge.”

He grinned, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. “Bold words for someone who didn’t even add marshmallows.”

“They’re coming,” I shot back.

“Sure they are,” he said, his voice teasing but light.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I focused on the cocoa, feeling his eyes on me. When I glanced at him again, he was fidgeting slightly, his hands shifting in his pockets.

“What’s up?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

He hesitated before pulling a small, slightly crumpled package from his pocket. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice quieter now.

That caught me off guard. “You? Giving me something?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a small package wrapped in slightly crumpled paper. He set it on the counter between us, his movements slower than usual.

“You’re serious?” I asked, eyeing the little package, still in shock.

“It’s nothing big,” he said grinning shyly. “I just… wanted to give you this before the whole Secret Santa circus starts later.”

I stared at the package, my curiosity piqued. “You’re not my Secret Santa.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p” as he placed the package on the counter between us. “I’m just really bad at following the rules.”

I looked at the package, then back at him. “Is this going to explode?”

“No, it’s not going to explode,” he said, his grin softening into something almost sheepish. “Just open it.”

I stared at the package for a moment before taking it, the weight of his gaze making my chest tighten. Carefully, I peeled back the wrapping, revealing a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny heart-shaped charm.

I turned it over, my breath catching when I saw the engraving on the back: Sugarplum.

“Franco…” I trailed off, brushing my thumb over the charm.

“It’s just a silly thing, got it in town this morning,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “For when this weekend’s over and you’ll start missing my nicknames. Or, you know, to apologize for dragging you into this whole fake-dating mess in the first place.”

“I don’t mind as much as I thought I would,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at me, his green eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. “Still. I thought it might be nice to have… a funny memory. Or whatever.”

I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, the charm resting lightly against my skin. It fit perfectly, as though it had always belonged there.

The bracelet’s charm glinted softly in the light as it settled against my wrist, the chain fitting perfectly. I turned it over once more, running my thumb across the tiny engraving.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, glancing up at him.

Franco shrugged, leaning back slightly against the counter. “I know. But… I wanted to. It felt right.”

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Right?”

“Okay, maybe ‘right’ is overselling it,” he admitted, his grin faint and a little sheepish. “But I figured, if we’re doing this whole fake-dating thing, we might as well have something to laugh about later. You know, when we’re telling everyone how much we hated it.”

His words were light, but something about the way he said them made my chest tighten. “I don’t really hate it,” I said quietly.

He blinked, his grin faltering. “No?”

I shook my head, the bracelet shifting slightly as I let my arms fall to my sides. “It’s been… weird. Definitely not what I expected, but not all bad.”

“Not all bad,” he repeated, his tone teasing but softer.

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “I guess I’ve gotten… used to you.”

He tilted his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Used to me? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” I said, fighting back a smile.

“Noted,” he said, his lips curving into something closer to his usual smirk. “I’ll put it right up there with, ‘Franco, you’re annoying, but tolerable.’”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice dropping slightly, “it hasn’t been all bad for me either. I mean, you’ve got your moments.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Moments?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin softening. “Like when you aren’t rolling your eyes at me or threatening to throw something. Those are nice.”

I rolled my eyes instinctively, but the warmth in his gaze made my stomach flip. “Oh shut up,” I muttered, though there was no real heat in my voice.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us shifted, growing heavier, and I felt the distance between us shrink even though neither of us moved.

“You’re going to keep calling me Sugarplum, aren’t you?” I asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, his grin returning. “You’re stuck with it now.”

The room felt smaller suddenly, the warmth from the stove and the weight of his gaze wrapping around me like a blanket. My heart pounded as the silence stretched, the unspoken words hanging between us growing louder with every passing second.

“Franco,” I began, not even sure what I was going to say.

His eyes searched mine, his lips parting slightly, as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him.

The movement startled him at first—his breath hitched, his hands hovering awkwardly—but then he responded, his touch finding my waist as he pulled me closer. His lips were warm and soft, hesitant at first, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to kiss me back.

When my hand slid up to the back of his neck, threading through his hair, the kiss deepened. His grip on my waist tightened, his other hand brushing lightly against my arm before settling on my lower back. The air between us seemed to crackle, the faint scent of cocoa mingling with the heat of his touch.

He kissed me like he was trying to memorize it, his lips moving slowly but deliberately, as though he didn’t want to rush.

When I finally pulled back, my forehead barely brushed against his, our breaths mingling in the warm air of the kitchen. My cheeks burned, and my pulse hammered in my ears, but I couldn’t bring myself to step away just yet.

Franco’s green eyes searched mine, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, softer. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come right away.

“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he finally murmured, his voice low and uncertain.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” I asked, my tone light despite the way my chest tightened.

“Good,” he said without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Really good.”

His hands were still resting lightly on my waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of my sweater. The warmth of his touch was bringing my head back to earth, making the moment feel more real than anything that had come before it.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but before I knew it, I was leaning back in, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more deliberate, the kind of kiss that felt like an unspoken promise. His hand slid up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

The sound of the door creaking open made us jump apart, and I turned sharply to see Lando standing frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

For a moment, none of us spoke. Then, Lando blinked, his gaze darting between us as his brain seemed to catch up with what he’d just walked in on.

“Oh my god,” he blurted out, his voice a mix of shock and triumph. “You’re actually for real..”

“Lando—” Franco started, his voice low and exasperated.

“No, no, wait. This is—wow. I mean, Oscar’s gonna lose his mind. And ten euros.” Lando grinned, his excitement building.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Lando, can you please just—”

“Leave you to it?” he interrupted, smirking as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Sure, I can do that.” 

The sound of his retreating footsteps was immediately followed by his voice erupting from the living room. “OSCAR! MAX! THEY’RE ACTUALLY TOGETHER! PAY UP!”

Franco let out a long sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. 

I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, the charm catching the light. The warmth spreading through me was impossible to ignore, a quiet certainty settling in my chest.

“Still worth it?” I asked, my tone teasing but soft.

His eyes flicked to the bracelet and then back to me, and the smile that followed was warmer, more genuine.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Definitely.”

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : Oki, quick reminder! This is all fiction!! nothing in this ever happened in real life, so don’t hate on the people referenced please!

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 17 | Next >

landonorris

liked by ln4, mclaren, f1, and others

landonorris And thats how you do it 😏. Pole for tomorrow’s race baby!

mclaren back at it again!! thats our driver 💪

ln4 How many poles was this again? 🤔

user1 Ok sir cook!

user2 Get em Lan! close the gap from Max

user3 Yes! this year’s battle is so tight 😮‍💨

user4 I’m so glad Lando is Mclaren’s no. 1 driver

user5 yeah for now

user4 @user5 what do you mean, for now??

user5 Give oscar time, you’ll see

user4 Piastri is literally in P17 while Lando got pole 🤡

user5 you didnt watch the practice sessions did you 🤡

user3 Get the p1 tomorrow Lando!

user4 Y/N fumbled letting Lando go for Oscar…. couldnt be me 🤢

user5 why would you even drag Y/N here? let’s not forget who cheated on who

user6 McLaren worked extra hard to cover that issue…. and we should not make it any easier. Cheaters remain cheating

user4 yeah yeah whatever! Lando stays on top

user6 That smirk was not necessary sir… you literally got the fastest car??

user7 and his teammate got what place in the fastest car? right 17

user8 Lando’s got that team favoritism buff tho

user7 what favoristism?

user6 @/user7 are you blind or stupid? its pretty obvious that Mclaren favors Lando over Oscar

user9 Don’t listen to the haters Lando!!

user10 Ngl I like Lando over Oscar anyday. McLaren should just fire the Australian like they did with Danny ric. Bro is not going anywhere in this team.

Notification: My Osc🧡 replied to your message*

*Incoming call from Manager Kim

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

-Hi, Kim. What’s up?-

-Y/N, your new ep has still charting at number 1 an opportunity opened up and it is HUGE!-

-Like how huge are we talking Kim?-

-HUGE huge, Y/N!!-

-Really? whats the gig and when is it? -

- I need you to fly out here to the states like right now!-

-Woah what? I can’t right now Kim. Oscar crashed and I need to be with him in the race. Everything is in chaos here and I — can’t it just be over the phone? -

- What? are you being serious right now? Y/N this is your career. Are you really choosing a boy over it?! Y/N listen to me. This opportunity comes by once in a life time, don’t waste it -

- Kim… can’t you reschedule the meeting? or something? please? -

- No, Y/N. They want to personally meet you here by tomorrow evening. I swear this is your Lando situation all over again! -

- Excuse me?? what does that even mean? -

- Y/N , you’re reliving your relationship with Lando through Oscar! -

-That’s not fucking true Kim!-

-Really, Y/N?? You’re even starting to give up opportunities for Oscar!! Does that ring any bells for you?? huh?? Remember you gave up that collab with Justin Bieber because your shit of an Ex was insecure and jealous?!! How is this not the same?? You’re doing all of this for what? so that your new boy toy can cheat on you?? Your being delusional again, Y/N. Get it together -

-KIM! You’re being out of line! You have no right to dictate what happens in my personal life. This is my decision to make not yours, and I’ll stand by what ever consequence i’ll face for it-

- Yeah, you’re not the one cleaning shit up, if you aren’t here by tomorrow. I swear Y/N… I’m done with you and your team.-

*beep* *beep* *beep*

-Oscar’s POV-

Notification : Mark sent a message*

Notification: Logan has sent a message to Timtams and Ranch*

Calling: My Dearest 🤍

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring*

*The number you are calling cannot be reached, please try again later*

Calling: My Dearest 🤍

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring*

*The number you are calling cannot be reached, please try again later*

Calling: My Dearest🤍

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring*

*The number you are calling cannot be reached, please try again later*

Calling : My Dearest🤍

*Ring*

-Hello?-

-You had me worried there, dear. Are you busy?-

-Oh, uhm no. No I guess-

-Are you ok, Baby? Is everything alright?-

-Yeah, No. Im ok, just some things to think about for work-

-Ok… if you say so. I’m heading back to our room okay?-

-Yeah. see you later. Bye Osc-

-Thank you for being here and supporting me in everything Y/N… I know it’s not easy for you. I love you-

-I… I love you too Oscar-

f1news

liked by user 1 and user2

f1news after yesterday’s chaotic qualifying. The teams and the grid are only starting to heat up, with McLaren starting the fire. Oscar joining papaya isn’t as heaven sent as everyone thought.

While inside drama is brewing inside McLaren, are other drivers starting to pick sides? Yes they are! While some are neutral, it is obvious who are leaning towards supporting Oscar. The drivers had taken to instagram stories to show just on whose part of the McLaren garage they support.

user1 Chaotic is a way to put it. It was an absolute shitshow.

user2 I guess Mclaren couldn’t handle 2 talented drives at the same time. It’s actually so saddening, especially for Oscar. His team always puts Lando first at EVERYTHING.

user3 I find it hilarious how most of the grid are either on Oscar’s side or just doesn’t care.

user4 Only Carlos is actively still supporting Lando

user5 The dude has beef with Piastri, even before in Osc’s rookie year

user6 Carlos is very protective of Lando I guess

user7 Protective of Lando?? Dude the man is a grown adult! Carlos has beef with Oscar for a whole different thing I’m sure

user8 Everyone let us thank McLaren for the drama in and off track! you’ve made our lives more fun

user9 Ikr? might be torture for the people involved but its so entertaining for us. Lmao sorry Oscar.

user10 Max switching sides from Lando to Oscar is so freaking funny. Max is full out ignoring Lando

user11 Oh what i would give to know the tea behind that

user12 you know what would be iconic? Oscar throws another party

user13 Throw a party and invite all Mclaren then dip before it would even start

user14 ngl that screams Oscar fr

user15 I can’t wait for the race later! it would be carnage on track!!

user16 I’m watching Oscar for sure. Boy looks absolute mad during the qualifying.

skysports live

*paddock , track side*

-Oscar, just do your job and please keep your mouth shut. You’re under probation and comments against the team won’t make it any better-

-Yeah, yeah… why not fire me while you’re at it-

-Hi, Peter! I’ll take it from here… Well hello to you Oscar. How’s it at the back of the grid?-

-Great to see you too Lando. Yeah, it’s alright. It keeps me humble, not that you would know what that means-

-Oh, You’ll be more humble when I win today-

-Sure… not till you bottle turn 1 and lose the lead. Y’know like you always do-

-Lando, Oscar! What are you two doing back here? Oh yes, Oscar is in P17… can’t believe they’re considering you and not me. Tsk waste of a seat-

- Haha funny. Carlos, mate what are you even talking about?-

-That Red Bull seat shouldn’t be offered to you. Ferrari’s 2nd option shouldn’t be you!-

-What Carlos is saying is that you shouldn’t be offered seats or be driving at all, Mate. Honestly your better off back at Alpine. Good fucking riddance for us-

-Yeah, oh please fire me! and I’m not the one being replaced by Hamilton next year.

-Hijo de puta! You have the nerve?! -

-Whoa. Ok let’s all calm down. Oscar come with me-

-Oi! Charles were not done here. Oi!-

-Mate, what the hell??-

-Charles?? where are we going-

-Just keep walking. You cant stay out of trouble can you?-

-They came at me! I was seriously about to go my car. I swear, your teammate hates me. I didn’t do even anything to him-

-He’s loosing his seat, of course he’s pissed-

-Why at me?? Aren’t he supposed to be mad at you or even Lewis?-

-Ok, fine… you didn’t hear this from me. But Lewis’ contract isnt final with Ferrari and you are the next driver option-

-WHAT-

-So RedBull and Ferrari wants you… and Carlos wasnt even in the choices. So yes he’s livid and no he doesn’t like you-

-Oh…-

-Yeah, Oh. So get your act right and drive your ass off today. And maybe I or Max might have a new teammate next year-

*End of Oscar’s POV

Y/N.

liked by y/b/f , alexandrasaintmleux, markwebber, and others

Y/N. Here with you, no matter the goal. Always

tagged @oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri No matter the destination. Always

liked by author

mclaren Drop by the garage @y/n. we miss you!

redbullracing she’s with us today 😏

scuderiaferrari We have next dibs! 🤪

user1 why is redbull and ferrari in y/n’s comments??

user1 get married already!

user2 Y/N and Oscar support each other so much 🥺

user3 Wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them would elope or already be married.

user4 Oscar needs all the support right now.

user3 yeah thats sweet and all. But when are we getting the album tho??

user4 let Y/N have fun and take her time.

user5 I’m expecting a breakup and a love album at this point from you ms @y/n.

user6 Mom… Y/N and Oscar are being mysterious again. I’m scared

user7 I’m scared too 🥹

user8 like what goal are they talking about??? gettingg married?? starting a family?? change in careers??

user9 I need answers 🙂‍↕️

Notification: You missed a call from Manager Kim*

Notification: Manager Kim sent you a voice message*

-I see, you’ve made your choice. Don’t regret it. I’m done working with you-

Would you like to call Manager Kim back?

Yes or No

No

*RedBull Racing Motorhome: Lobby

-Hey, Y/N. You ready to go to Max’s garage? -

-Hi, Kel and hello P! yeah lets go-

-You ok, Y/N? is everything alright?-

-Hmm? yeah, yup. I’m ok. Just a lil weird not being in Oscar’s garage. Let’s go to the track! -

-Okay~ If you say so. P, can you hold auntie Y/N’s hand for me please? Mommy has alot to carry -

-Thanks, P! and thank you Kel-

-Yeah, I’m not stupid Y/N. Something is up I know it. But I won’t push you… i’m here if you need me, yeah?-

-Thanks Kel… -

F1

Liked by user1, user2, and user3

F1 And we have our podium drivers!! What a race indeed. 🏆

tagged @maxverstappen1, @charles_leclerc, and @oscarpiastri

user1 HOW IS OSCAR HERE??? P2? WHAT A DRIVE!!

user2 Man drove like a beast! His driving today was insane 🔥

user3 Oscar took yesterday’s qualifying personally 💀

user2 Lando being pole to p6 is just 🤡

user3 and his teammate started at P17 … is P2

user4 I can’t defend the man anymore

user5 Max and Charles really gave Lando a hard time during the first few laps huh

user6 Lando was so agitated in the team radio 😮‍💨

user7 I dont if i want to laugh or cry at Lando’s luck

user8 Charles defending P2 from Oscar was amazing driving, but Oscar was on smth else today!!

user9 Lando bottled the start. Gasp! … anyways.

user10 why aren’t we surprised 💀

user11 Isn’t anyone gonna comment about McLaren ordering Oscar to stand down?? Hello??? what was that?

user12 Not them ordering Oscar not to overtake Lando 🤢

user13 I’m so happy Oscar ignored team orders!

user14 Oscar deserves that driver of the day for sure!! Masterclass driving. He is a future WDC, i’m betting my house!!

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[wernher-von-brawny]

First, yeah, the DNC have spent the last few decades chasing after people who will never like them, while taking for granted or outright abandoning the folks who need them.

It’s hard to argue against the perception that the Democrats exist to prevent progressive energy from disrupting business as usual.

So I get your rage, my comrade, but I think you’re missing the point of what the dude in the quote was saying.

He’s saying he trusted that Trump was speaking his mind, and that Harris seemed to be reading from a script.

He didn’t say that he thought Trump was speaking 'The Truth', or that he agreed with his policies, but that he believed that Trump’s words and ideas were his, and not those of a committee of marketing creeps.

I think what’s most instructive about that article is another quote: “Democrats, another said, are 'not a friend of the working class anymore.'”

I have to agree with that.

Biden walked a picket line, but it turns out he’s not gonna follow through fully on student loan forgiveness.

Pelosi got her congressional chorus to cosplay and take the knee for George Floyd, but what meaningful police reform have they championed since that photo op?

Obama was elected on 'Hope and Change', and then put Geitner and Summers in charge of fixing a problem that they themselves created during the Clinton admin, and their solution was to bail out their friends and let the defrauded masses fall into bankruptcy and foreclosure.

Yeah, “Thanks, Obama” was a racist ( -ish ) dog whistle, but it lingered a bit because it kinda had a point.

And do I even need to detail how the DNC fucked us out of President Bernie Sanders — TWICE!?

So of course a candidate who speaks nothing but DNC talking points is gonna trigger folks 'stranger danger'.

I spent most of my life as a knee-jerk, 'don’t think just vote' Chicago Democrat, until I finally saw that the DNC didn’t actually mean what it said, or follow up on promises made to the 99%.

And if a former party loyalist like me can come to this conclusion, then there are probably a lot of other folks who’ve noticed it as well.

So many of us have lost faith in politics to solve our problems, and a lot of folks — at least enough to sway this last election — have decided that throwing a wrench in the works is the only way they can express any influence over this broken system.

Trump is that monkey wrench. When he promises to smash the system, people believe him. Conservatives believe him. Liberals believe him. Progressives believe him. The rich believe him. The poor believe him.

And Glob help us, in The Year of Our Lord ( Mammon ) 2024, that passes for integrity.

It reminds me of the sound bite that old Slick Willy Clinton his-self gave the media when he threw Al Gore under the bus during the 2000 election ( something he also kinda did to Harris in Detroit this time around; Clinton really doesn’t like V.P.s, does he? ): “People will choose a strong leader who is wrong over a weak leader who is right.”

Harris didn’t convince the dude in the quote that she was speaking with the courage of her “joyful warrior” convictions, and I think that’s a fair point. I don’t think she was either.

I felt she came off very Vice-Presidential, very safe and corporate and triangulating. And in this time of spiraling crises, her safe and corporate and triangulating approach didn’t inspire the nation as much as Trump’s bold, disruptive, batshit-crazy promise to tear down the pig system.

I see the appeal: “You and I are fucked no matter what, but maybe Trump can take down some of piggies at the top.” I don’t believe this strategy will work out in our favor, but I grok spite.

Shit, man, “…from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee” may as well have been Trump’s campaign slogan.

Anyways, I’m well past my 500 allotted words here, so I’ll wrap this up by saying that if the Democrat wing of the neoliberal party wants to win elections post-Trump, they need to sell authenticity as well as Clinton or Obama — or Trump — did.

Personally, I think Pete Buttigieg has that vibe, but we shall see.

“An Arizona man, citing the time Harris said, “you better thank a union member,” during a speech in Detroit, said “that was very disingenuous to me because I didn’t see an honest person that could be president.” “It seemed like a lot of what she came out and said wasn’t really off-the-cuff, wasn’t coming from her,” said another man who voted for Biden in 2020 and Trump in 2024. “Seemed like every interview, every time she came out and talked about something, it was planned out and never her thoughts, didn’t seem genuine to her thoughts, whereas, Trump, even though you never really knew what he was going to say, when he was going to say it, it was always him and genuine to what he thought, so that’s what swayed me.””

—

New research shows the massive hole Dems are in

I mean … I don’t know how anyone worth electing is going to reach someone like this guy who basically says he’d rather vote for someone who rambles incoherently, with a clear track record of violence and corruption, because he didn’t like the way the scary Black lady talked.

Why is this guy even in this article? This guy is a lost cause. This guy is not the Democrats’ fault. This guy is a stupid fucking idiot who shouldn’t be allowed to be alone in any room with a sharp object.

And this is the guy the Democrats are going to throw the trans community under the bus for, the guy who says he didn’t like how prepared and articulate Kamala Harris was when she expressed her positions, when what we all know is that he didn’t like that she was a Black woman.

THAT is the real disgrace and failure of the party: chasing this guy at the expense of ten people who want to vote for them, because they listen to dipshit consultants who have lost all but two consequential elections for the last twenty years.

[star2fishmeg]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ

Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | (comfort angst, fluff) | all it took was a terrible headache for y/n to break and really tell Luke what was wrong, and he provides the best remedy Authors Note | please accept this blurb based on a dream caused by a criminal headache I had while I get through celly blurbs and my inbox🥺

The headache that’d haunted her all day only pounded worse, pain relief only doing so much to ease the aching. Luke felt useless, there was only so much he could do and taking the pain away was not one of them. All he could do was gently caress her thigh hooked over his legs and hold her to his chest, arm wound around her waist and providing a kiss on her forehead every now and then. 

Her fingers traced feathery patterns over his skin, changing between his chest and following the ridges of his abs down to his v-line, feeling the heat that radiated off his body and embracing hers. They lay in silence, listening to breathing fall into sync and the video quietly playing from Luke’s phone and her brain worked overtime, the cogs turning and falling into the deepest pits of the human conscience, comments she’d read and heard emerging from her memory. The gossip pages, the media, other girlfriends and wives and maybe they were right. Maybe she wasn’t right for him; not mature enough, not established enough, not flexible enough and not pretty enough. 

Wetness seeped onto his bare skin, and he closed his phone, placing it onto the sheets before cupping her cheek, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, head just hurts.” She slid her hand over his stomach, cuddling into him but his fingers took her jaw, tilting her head up to face him. Worry spread across his face, eyes widening softly, eyebrows pulling together slightly.

“Y/n…” he said concerned, “talk to me, what’s it you always tell me? We’re a team?”

She paused and sighed, “Jus’...sometimes the people are right, I don’t deserve you. You’re this big-time, hotshot hockey player and I have nothing to my name, jus’ some chick.”

His grip around her tightened and he let her face go, slowly pulling her on top of his body completely, with consideration to the pounding in her head. Luke never liked the media and knew it came with his career, but when it impacted the people, he loved the most, then he had a personal problem with it. His jaw tensed when more tears spilt onto his chest silently.

“Oh, angel,” Luke’s hand settled on the back of her head tenderly, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face while his arm secured around her middle, “who said that? You know that’s not true-” “-but it just is, Lu. Not a thriving model, not a career woman, just y/n who still relies on her parents half the time. Getting a part-time job has been tragic and while you’re working your ass off out there, I’m just sitting around.” She sobbed, Luke’s stomach twisting and he kissed her head. 

He’d never been confident in sharing how he felt, never being able to find the right words but with so much adrenaline and heartache running through his system, they seemed to fall off his tongue with a rawness to them. 

“But you’re not just ‘some chick’. That’s why I love you. You’re y/n. You’re a student who’s graduating soon, in a field she enjoys and you’re literally only twenty. Just because you aren’t living a life someone else is, doesn’t make you any less of a person. I don’t care that you’re not a public figure or whatever. Actually, I like that you aren’t and wish we went to college together because that would’ve been cool, so many parties to make out at. My point is that you bring normality, and I don’t care if you have a job or not, I’m always gonna support you in everything because I love you.” 

Y/n’s lip quivered, heart swelling as the sweet confession soaked into her ears. Typical Luke, even when he didn’t realise it, he always knew what to say. She pushed herself up onto her forearms, palms flat on his chest and his hands followed the curve of her spine up to her shoulder blades and down to her ass, soothingly with a small, comforting smile. 

He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe one of her eyes before she melted into his palm, “Thank you, I love you so much.”

She leant in, pressing a long and slow kiss to his lips, moaning when he groped her ass and giggling. He didn’t mind taking that extra breath if it meant he could listen to her giggle and light up again. Luke slid his hand to the back of her neck, goosebumps running along her skin, and he pulled her into another adoring kiss. A kiss worth a thousand more words, with warmth, a deep kiss with his mouth opening to invite her tongue to meet his and lick into her mouth. She was just y/n and Luke wouldn’t have had it any other way.