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harrysfolklore · 4 days ago

Text

labyrinth - fc43

summary: as the only female driver on the grid, everything in yn's life was planned like a perfect qualifying lap. then franco colapinto had to show up. first, he was just that annoying new guy who took her best friend's seat. then he became the driver she absolutely couldn't stand (or at least that's what she kept telling herself) word count: over 13k + social media posts

folkie radio: GUYYYYSSS SHE'S HERE! i started writing this fic in september and it's finally her time to shine!! this is my first time writing driver!reader so please be gentle with me. also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! may all of your wishes come true

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,027,537 others

yourinstagram p6 in zandvoort ! happy to see max on the podium for his home race. see you soon monza 🇮🇹

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username1 LEGEND

username2 p6 with that tractor feels like a podium finish fr

username3 give your seat to danny already

oscarpiastri Well done stinks 👊

↳ logansargeant Don’t praise her, her ego gets inflated

↳ username2 BEST TRIO ON THE GRID

↳ yourinstagram you’re both so jealous of me

redbullracing Keep pushing ! 💙

↳ username1 FIX HER FUCKING CAR

username4 p6 in a redbull? just hand the seat to someone more deserving

francolapinto Amazing 🙌🙌

↳ username2 franco is such a fannn

danielricciardo Proud of you 👌👌

↳ username1 haters want to create this beef between yn and danny for the seat but him adores her

maxverstappen1 Look she’s a nice teammate

↳ yourinstagram you adore me 😤

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

A knot forms in your stomach as you read the messages. Something about the tone doesn't sit right with you. You quickly head towards Logan's motorhome, your mind racing and your axiety creeping in.

When you arrive, Oscar is already there, leaning against the wall with a concerned expression. Logan sits on the couch, his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Logan?" you ask softly, stepping into the room. "What's going on?"

He looks up at you, then at Oscar, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and resignation. "I… I'm not coming back for the next race," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. Deep down, a part of you had known this was coming. Rumors in the paddock spread faster than a Formula 1 car on a straight, and there had been whispers about Logan's seat for weeks. But you hadn't wanted to believe it. You'd pushed those thoughts aside, convinced that if you just ignored them, they wouldn't come true.

"What? What do you mean you're not coming back?"

Oscar pushes off the wall, his brow furrowed. "Mate, what happened?"

Logan takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Williams… they're replacing me. I'm out."

The room falls silent for a moment as the news sinks in. Then, all at once, you feel a surge of anger coursing through your veins.

"They can't do that!" you exclaim, your voice rising. "It's mid-season! You've been improving, you've been working so hard. How can they just… just throw you away like this?"

Logan shrugs, a bitter smile on his face. "Apparently, they can. And they have."

A wave of emotions come crashing to you. Anger at Williams for their decision, frustration at the ruthless nature of the sport, and an overwhelming sadness for Logan.

Oscar moves to sit beside Logan, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, mate. This is bullshit."

You start pacing the room, your anger building with each step. "Who are they replacing you with? Some pay driver? Some rookie who's never even touched an F1 car?"

"Franco Colapinto," Logan says quietly.

You stop in your tracks, whirling to face him. "Colapinto? The F2 kid? Are they out of their minds?"

Oscar tries to interject, his voice calm. "YN, maybe we should-"

But you're too fired up to listen. "No, Oscar! This is wrong. It's so wrong. Logan deserves better than this. He deserves a chance to prove himself. How is he supposed to do that if they don't even give him a full season?"

Logan looks up at you, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes. "I appreciate you having my back, stinks. But it's done. There's nothing we can do about it now."

You shake your head. "No, there has to be something. They can't just replace you with some F2 kid like that. They're out of their minds."

"YN," Oscar cuts in firmly. "I know you're angry. We all are. But right now, we need to be here for Logan. This isn't about us or what we think is fair. It's about supporting our friend."

As Oscar's words sink in, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. He's right, of course. This isn't about your anger or your sense of injustice. It's about Logan, your friend who's just had his dream ripped away from him.

The three of you have been racing together since you were kids, climbing through the ranks side by side. You've shared victories and defeats, laughter and tears. You've pushed each other to be better, to chase your dreams relentlessly. And now, one of you is being left behind.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I just… I can't believe this is happening."

Logan manages a small smile. "It's okay, stinks. I appreciate your passion. It's one of the things I've always admired about you."

"Remember when we were in karting, and YN nearly got into a fist fight with that kid who tried to push Logan off the track?" Oscar says with a small smile, trying to light up the mood.

"How could I forget?" +

Logan chuckles softly, "She was like a tiny ball of fury."

You feel a smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. "Hey, nobody messes with my boys and gets away with it."

"And nothing's changed," Oscar adds, giving you a fond look. "We've always had each other's backs, through everything. This is not the exception."

Without another word, the three of you come together in a tight group hug, a physical representation of the bond you've shared for so many years.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 2,017,697 others

yourinstagram logan, you’re more than just a friend — you’re family. we’ve raced together since we were kids, dreaming of f1. to see that dream cut short for you is heartbreaking

your talent, dedication and kindness have always shone through. you deserved better than this mid-season swap. this sport can be cruel, but this feels especially unfair and i’m angry that my friend’s journey has been interrupted

but i’m also incredibly proud of you, logan. you have handled this with grace and strength and this isn’t the end for you — it’s just a detour. love you, stinks 🥲

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username1 IM SOBBING

username2 i still can’t believe this

username3 well hold your tears because you’re next

pierregasly Chin up, mate @/logansargeant you’re a champ 👊

alex_albon You will always be family @/logansargeant, It’s so sad to see you go

username4 that was cute now hand your seat to daniel or yuki

username5 THE FIRST PIC 🥺🥺 IM NOT OKAY

username6 oh she’s PISSED

username7 this is so unfair for logan

username8 colapinto has an enemy on track already and it’s her 😭

username9 the best trio will be incomplete now i’m not okay

username10 YOU NEXT BYE BYE

logansargeant Thank you for everything, go make me proud 💙

↳ username1 IM SOBBING AGAIN

liked by francolapinto, landonorris and 410,764 others

williamsracing Franco Colapinto to race for the remainder of the 2024 season.

username1 VAMOOOS

username2 hello?? hes cute

username3 OKAY I SEE

username4 good thing for the team, sargeant was just not it

alex_albon Welcome to the fam @/francolapinto 👊

username5 KIIING

username6 an f1 kid who's not even top 5 right now in the championship? risky move

yourinstagram not even giving logan a proper goodbye? yall suck

THIS COMMENT HAS BEEN DETELED

username1 OMFG YN WE SAW THAT

username2 YN 😭😭

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Monza is always a race to look forward no matter what team you drive for, but today, your excitement is just not there.

The paddock feels different without Logan's presence, you have always raced alongside him, and not seeing his face during a race weekend feels wrong.

As you make your way through the bustling crowd, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness and anger. Inside the Red Bull hospitality area, you find Max already settled in, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you approach, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you holding up?" he asks, gesturing for you to take a seat next to him.

"As well as can be expected, I guess," you slump into the chair, running a hand through your hair. "It just feels wrong, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Max nods, his expression thoughtful, "How's Logan doing? Have you talked to him?"

The mention of Logan's name ignites that spark of anger inside you again. "He's… he's putting on a brave face, but I know he's hurting. This whole situation is such bullshit, Max. Williams made a huge mistake."

Max raises an eyebrow, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm exterior. "You want to talk about it?"

That's all the invitation you need. The words start pouring out of you, your voice rising with each sentence.

"It's just so unfair! Logan was improving every race. He was working his ass off, putting in the hours, doing everything the team asked of him. And for what? To be tossed aside mid-season for some rookie?"

Max tries to interject, "Well, Colapinto has been pretty impressive in F2-"

But you're on a roll now, barely registering his words. "Impressive in F2? So what? F1 is a whole different ball game. Logan was just starting to get comfortable, to really show what he could do. And now they've brought in this Colapinto kid who's never even driven an F1 car, who's probably a paid driver who's just going to waste everyone's times. What kind of message does that send?"

You stand up, pacing back and forth as you continue your rant. "Williams is making a huge mistake. They're throwing away all the work Logan put in, all the data they've gathered. For what? A gamble on some unproven talent? And don't even get me started on how they handled it. No warning, no real explanation. Just 'Thanks for your service, now get out.' It's disrespectful, it's short-sighted, and it's everything that's wrong with this sport sometimes."

Max watches you, a mix of concern and surprise on his face. He's never seen you this fired up before. "YN, I understand you're upset, but-"

"No, Max!" you interrupt him, "You don't understand because you'll never have the fear of having your seat taken from you out of nowhere. You're Max Verstappen. You're safe. But for the rest of us… we're always one bad weekend away from losing everything."

Max's brow furrows, clearly taken aback by your statement. "YN, that's not true. I worked hard to get where I am-"

"I know you did," you interrupt again, your voice softer now. "I'm not saying you didn't. But you have to admit, your position is different. You're a world champion. You're untouchable. But for drivers like Logan, like me… we're always looking over our shoulders, always wondering if this race will be our last."

Max is silent for a moment, processing your words. "I guess you're right, I've been in a secure position for so long, I forgot what it's like to worry about your seat." He pauses, then adds, "But you know, you're in a unique position too. You're the only woman driving a Formula 1 car. That's pretty special. You should feel-"

You cut him off, your frustration flaring up again. "Exactly! I'm the only woman here, Max. Do you have any idea how much more pressure that puts on me? Every move I make is scrutinized. Every-"

Before you can continue, you spot Franco Colapinto walking past the Red Bull area, chatting animatedly with his new race engineer. The sight of him in Williams colors sends another wave of resentment through you, and you turn away abruptly.

"I need some air," you mutter, storming out of the hospitality area, leaving a bewildered Max in your wake.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The sun beats down as you stand next to Oscar on the flatbed truck, waiting for the drivers' parade to begin. The usual buzz of excitement surrounding Monza feels muted to you, overshadowed still by Logan's absence and the presence of his replacement.

"Oi, what's with the long face?" Oscar nudges you playfully with his elbow. "You look like someone stole your last Tim Tam."

"Oh shut up, you dork," you can't help but crack a small smile, "As if I'd ever let anyone near my precious Tim Tams."

"Too right," Oscar grins. "But seriously, how are you holding up?"

You shrug, trying to keep your expression neutral for the cameras. "Oh, you know, just peachy. Nothing like a bit of midseason drama to spice things up, right?"

"Always the optimist, aren't you?" Oscar rolls his eyes, "Come on, I bet you twenty quid you can't name all the Italian F1 circuits without googling."

"You're on, Piastri," you say, grateful for the distraction. "Monza, Imola, Mugello…"

As you're racking your brain for more, you notice Franco Colapinto approaching. Your playful mood evaporates instantly.

Franco's eyes widen as he gets closer, clearly starstruck. "Uh, hi," he says nervously. "I'm Franco. I just wanted to introduce myself."

Oscar, ever the diplomat, smiles and extends his hand. "Hey mate, welcome to F1. I'm Oscar."

Franco shakes his hand before turning to you, his expression one of barely contained awe. "And you're YN. I… I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. You're such an inspiration. The way you've broken barriers in this sport, it's incredible. I've followed your career since your F3 days and-"

You cut him off, your voice cool. "Thanks. Welcome to the grid."

Franco's smile falters, but he presses on. "I just wanted to say how much I admire what you've accomplished. You've paved the way for so many young drivers, especially women in motorsport. It's an honor to be racing alongside you."

You nod stiffly. "Thanks," you repeat, your tone making it clear that you're not interested in continuing the conversation.

An awkward silence falls over the group. Oscar, sensing the tension, tries to smooth things over. "So, Franco, how are you finding the step up to F1 so far?"

As Franco turns to answer Oscar, you take the opportunity to step away, moving to the other side of the truck. You can feel Oscar's gaze following you, but you can't bring yourself to engage in small talk with Logan's replacement, no matter how well-intentioned he might be.

As you're standing alone, Alex approaches, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Hey, mind if I join you?"

You shrug. "Free country, Albon. Or free truck, I guess."

Alex chuckles softly. "How are you doing? I know this can't be easy for you."

You sigh, your guard dropping slightly with Alex. "It's… complicated. I'm angry for Logan, but I know it's not Franco's fault. It's just…"

"It's the reality of the sport we're in," Alex finishes for you. "Trust me, I get it. Been there, done that, got the Red Bull rejection t-shirt."

Your stomach twists at the mention of that, suddenly remembering the endless conversations and warnings from your team. And how despite having a contract for next season, there's threats about your seat being take away after every race weekend. But you push the thought away.

"Always the comedian, aren't you?"

"Someone's got to keep the mood light around here," Alex grins. "But seriously, I know it's tough. Franco's a good kid, though. He's been working really hard, trying to learn as much as he can."

You nod, not quite ready to let go of your resentment but appreciating Alex's perspective. "How's he settling in?"

"As well as can be expected," Alex says. "He's got a lot to learn, but he's eager. It's a big step up from F2, but he's handling the pressure well so far."

You're about to respond when the parade starts moving. Alex gives you a supportive pat on the shoulder before moving back to his spot. As the truck rolls down the straight, the cheers of the Tifosi wash over you. You lift your hand to wave, a mix of emotions swirling inside you that go beyond just Logan's replacement.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,638,578 others

yourinstagram p8. it is what it is. ciao monza 👋

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username1 you will always be the moment

username2 FIX THE FUCKING CAR ALREADY

username3 ouu shes DONEEE

username4 most undeserved seat on the grid i swear

username5 anyway RICBULL IS COMING

francolapinto Such a pleasure to race alongside you!

↳ username1 franco respects and admires her so much i love it

↳ username2 im pretty sure yn hates him tho

username6 the constructors championship is gone thanks to her

logansargeant Chin up, love you 💙

↳ username2 i miss them so much

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 12,739 others

f1gossip YN arriving at Red Bull HQ in Milton Keynes

Tensions running high as rumors swirl about potential driver shake-ups. Sources say YN’s recent performance has bosses considering options

Is the Honey Badger eyeing a comeback or could young Liam Lawson be making the leap to F1? 🤔

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username1 bro...

username2 they better fix her car NOW

username3 RICBULL RICBULL

username4 honestly the best thing for the team would be her getting replaced

username5 YAAAS SHE'S OUT FINALLY

username6 oscar is the only 2023 rookie who actually puts in the work

username7 some people need to start putting some respect on yn's name bc yall keep forgetting she was third in the championship and got her first win during her ROOKIE SEASON and the reason she's struggling rn is bc redbull is not getting their shit together

↳ username1 right??? they're just saying shit

↳ username4 you said it yourself, she has a championship winning car and she's not delivering. she should be out

username8 YN GET BEHIND ME

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,638,538 others

yourinstagram great quali, we should have some fun tomorrow 😚

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username1 SLAYYY

username2 p4 after all the nonsense surrounding her seat? feels right

username3 THE QUEEN OF BAKU FOR REAL

lilyzneimer my favorite supergirl 💙

username4 she got lucky

username5 don't care, we still want danny or liam in that seat

username6 enjoy the race bc it might be your last

username7 watch her on that podium tomorrow

logansargeant Super proud always

↳ username2 LOGAN WE MISSS YOUUUU

francolapinto 🤩

liked by username1, logansargeant and 270,847 others

redbullracing Solid race and a bunch of points for the team 👊

Result 🏁PIA, LEC, YN P3, NOR, Max P5, ALO, ALB, COL, HAM, BEA

#F1 #RedBullRacing #AzerbaijanGP

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username1 SO DAMN TRUE

username2 yn back on the podium FINALLY

username3 yn saw the rumors about her seat and decided to shut them up

username4 SHES BEATING MAX FINALLY

username5 did they finally fix the car

username6 i don't want anyone commenting on her seat anymore

username7 i knew she got into that care absolutely PISSED

username8 QUEEN OF BAKU

liked by oscarpiastri, francolapinto and 1,764,933 others

yourinstagram was that entertaining? 😙 so happy to be on the podium for osco's second win, i love you so muuuch you diva

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username1 LEGEND

username2 she's so smug

username3 TELL THEM QUEEEN

landonorris The third pic is definitely your best @/oscarpiastri

↳ yourinstagram IKR

↳ username1 I LOVE THEM

logansargeant Congrats to both of you @/oscarpiastri @/yourinstagram I'm always proud of everything you achieve ❤️

↳ username2 logan should be there too i'm sad now

↳ oscarpiastri Love you mate

↳ yourinstagram this paddock will never be the same without you

maxvertsappen1 🙌🙌 So proud of you little sister

oscarpiastri Love you stinks

francolapinto Congrats! Always an honor to race alongside you

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The drivers' briefing has just concluded, and you find yourself lingering in the room, chatting with your friends.

"I swear, I almost peed my pants at that press conference!," Lando says, his eyes widening as he recalls, "When Max and YN just sat there in silence, staring down the journalists… I thought I was going to lose it!"

Pierre chuckles, giving you a knowing look. "I knew YN was the mastermind behind that. It has her written all over it."

"Well, someone had to make a point about these ridiculous penalties," you can't help but grin.

The group's laughter is interrupted as Franco approaches, a tentative smile on his face. "Hey guys, mind if I join?"

The others welcome him warmly, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach. You force a tight smile, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"Franco, mate!" George exclaims, patting him on the back. "That was some impressive driving in practice. You're settling in well."

Alex nods in agreement. "Yeah, you're really holding your own out there. Williams made a good choice."

You feel your jaw clench at Alex's words, but you remain silent, watching as Franco's face lights up with pride and gratitude.

"Thanks, guys," Franco says, his voice humble. "I still have a lot to learn, but I'm giving it my all."

"Well, it's paying off," Lando chimes in, "Points in just your second race? You're pushing that Williams harder than we've seen in a while."

As the conversation continues, with each driver offering praise and encouragement to Franco, you feel your frustration and anger building.

The memory of Logan's disappointment and unfairness of it all, mixed with the ever present threat of you seat having the same fate, bubbles up inside you until you can't contain it anymore.

"And what about Logan?" you snap, your voice cutting through the friendly chatter like a knife. The group falls silent, all eyes turning to you in surprise. Franco's smile fades, replaced by a look of discomfort and guilt.

"YN…" Oscar starts, his tone cautionary.

But you're too fired up to stop now. "No, seriously. Everyone's so quick to praise him, but what about Logan? He was improving every race, working his ass off, and for what? To be tossed aside mid-season?"

The atmosphere in the room becomes tense. George and Alex exchange uncomfortable glances, while Pierre shifts uneasily.

Franco, looking distressed, speaks up. "I never meant for Logan to lose his seat. I just took the opportunity when it was offered to me. Any driver would have done the same."

"Oh, so that makes it okay?" his words only fuel your anger. "You just 'took the opportunity'? Do you have any idea how hard Logan worked for that seat? How much he sacrificed?"

"YN, that's enough," Oscar says firmly, placing a hand on your arm.

But you shrug him off, your eyes blazing as you face Franco. "You waltz in here, taking a seat you didn't earn, and everyone's falling over themselves to congratulate you. It's not right. It's not fair."

The room falls into a shocked silence. Franco looks like he's been slapped, his earlier excitement completely deflated. The other drivers are staring at you with a mix of surprise and disapproval.

It's George who finally breaks the tension. "YN, I think we all understand you're upset about Logan. We all are. But this isn't Franco's fault. He's just trying to make the most of his chance, like any of us would."

You feel a flush of shame creeping up your neck, but your anger is still simmering. "You don't understand," you mutter, but the fight has gone out of your voice.

Franco, looking genuinely distressed, takes a step towards you. "I'm sorry about what happened to Logan. I really am. I have nothing but respect for him, and for you. I never wanted to cause any problems."

His sincerity catches you off guard, and for a moment, you see not the driver who replaced your friend, but a young, talented kid trying to navigate a difficult situation. However, your anger and frustration gets the best of you.

"Whatever," you mumble, pushing past the group and out of the room, leaving a stunned silence as you disappear.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 709,639 others

francolapinto still buzzing from singapore 🇸🇬growing up watching Lewis battle in marina bay and now getting to race wheel to wheel with him... surreal doesn't even begin to cover it 🤯 and that fight with YN for position was proper racing - those last few laps were intense! thank you to the team for giving me a car that could fight at the front. vamos 💪

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username1 he’s an f1 driver now but he’ll always be a fanboy

lewishamilton Good racing kid, you've got a bright future ahead 👊🏾

williamsracing Our boy! 💙

username3 Did anyone else notice how aggressive YN was when overtaking Franco? Almost pushed him into the wall...

↳ username1 fr she looked like she wanted to crash him

↳ username4 they were racing for position, that's what racing drivers do 🙄

username5 the way he always mentions YN in his posts but she never acknowledges him 👀

username6 that move from YN was unnecessarily aggressive, could've ended badly

landonorris Great drive mate!

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 2,370,739 others

f1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced. Liam Lawson will race in place of Ricciardo for the remaining six races of the season for the team.

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username1 DANNY NOOOO

username2 this sucks man

danielricciardo Been a hell of a ride! Thank you RB family ❤️

maxverstappen1 Going to miss you mate!

username3 Wrong driver leaving... YN should be the one out

↳ username1 exactly! she's been underperforming all season

yourinstagram always grateful for everything you taught me DR. more than a driver - you've been a big brother, mentor, and friend since day one. going to miss our pre-race dance parties 🥺🤍

↳ username3 now give him your seat

↳ username1 it's no annoying to see that drivers like her have an undeserved contract extension and talented drivers get left out

↳ danielricciardo Love you kiddo! Make me proud

username5 Gutted to see Danny Ric go 💔

landonorris Won't be the same without you mate!

username7 @/yourinstagram Maybe focus more on racing than dancing 🙄

↳ username8 she's literally P5 in the championship, shut up

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

As you step off the plane in Florida, the warm air envelops you, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn weather you left behind in Europe. Your heart lightens as you spot Logan waiting for you, his familiar grin a welcome sight after weeks of tension and stress. You missed your best friend so much.

You rush towards him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. "I missed you so much," you say, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "That paddock sucks without you."

Logan chuckles, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. "I missed you too, stinks." He pulls back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now, let's grab a beer since you're out of race cars for a while."

You nod eagerly, letting him lead the way. He drives you to a nearby bar, one you've learned over the years of knowing him was the one he used to go to during his teenage years. The casual atmosphere is a refreshing change from the high-pressure environment of the paddock. As you settle into a booth with cold beers in hand, you feel some of the tension from the past few months start to melt away.

"So, how's life outside the F1 bubble?" you ask, taking a sip of beer.

Logan grins, leaning back in his seat. "It's… different. But not all bad. Actually, I've got some news." He pauses for dramatic effect. "I've been in talks with a few IndyCar teams."

Your eyes widen with excitement. "Logan, that's fantastic! Tell me everything!"

For the next hour, Logan animatedly describes his meetings with IndyCar team principals, the tracks he's excited to race on, and the new challenges he's looking forward to. You listen intently, genuinely happy for your friend's potential new chapter.

"It's not F1," Logan admits, "but it's a hell of a racing series. And who knows? Maybe it'll lead me back to F1 someday."

"I have no doubt," you assure him, raising your bottle in a toast. "To new beginnings!"

As the conversation flows, you find yourself relaxing more than you have in months. You chat about mutual friends, swap funny stories from your junior racing days, and discuss the latest paddock gossip.

Eventually, Logan's expression turns a bit more serious. "So, Oscar's been keeping me updated on what's been going on in F1. Sounds like things have been… tense with Franco."

You feel your mood shift at the mention of Franco's name. "Yeah, you could say that," you mutter, taking a long swig of your beer.

Logan leans forward, his voice gentle but firm. "YN, I know you're upset on my behalf, but you can't keep this grudge going forever. Franco's just a kid trying to make his way in the sport, like we all were not too long ago."

"I know, I know. It's just," you sigh heavily, "Every time I see him in the garage, in your overalls, talking to your engineers… it feels wrong, Logan. Like he's stolen something that belongs to you."

"But he didn't steal anything," Logan counters. "The team made a decision. It sucks for me, yeah, but that's not on Franco. He just took an opportunity that was offered to him. Can you honestly say you wouldn't have done the same in his position?"

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Logan has a point, and you know it.

"Look," Logan continues, "I've had some time to process all this, and I've come to terms with it. It's a cutthroat sport, YN. We all know that. Franco's not the villain here."

"But the way it happened," you protest, "mid-season, with no warning. It wasn't fair to you."

"Fair doesn't always come into it in F1. It just happens," Logan shrugs, "Besides," he adds with a hint of a smile, "I hear he's doing a decent job. The kid's got talent."

"He's alright," you grudgingly admit. "But he's not you."

Logan laughs. "No one's me, stinks. I'm one of a kind."

You can't help but crack a smile at that. "True enough."

"So," Logan says, his tone turning serious again, "can you promise me you'll try to ease up on Franco? Give him a fair shot? For me?"

You sigh deeply, considering his words. "I'll try," you finally concede. "But I'm not promising to be his best friend or anything."

"That's all I ask," Logan says, looking relieved. "Now, is this just about Franco replacing me, or is there something else going on? You seem… I don't know, more on edge than usual."

For a moment, you consider telling him about the talks with Red Bull, about the uncertainty surrounding your own seat. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but something holds you back. Maybe it's not wanting to burden Logan with your problems, or maybe it's not being ready to voice your fears out loud.

"No, nothing else," you lie, forcing a smile. "Just the usual F1 stress, you know how it is."

Logan nods, though he doesn't look entirely convinced. "Well, if there ever is anything, you know you can talk to me, right? Even if I'm not in the paddock anymore."

"I know," you say, feeling a pang of guilt. "Thanks, Logan. Really."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 1,289,673 others

yourinstagram florida !!! is one hell of a drug

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username1 AHHH she visited logan

logansargeant Next time we're doing the gator tour 🐊

↳ username2 i love them sm

oscarpiastri No invite for your favourite Aussie? Rude

↳ username2 we need the iconic trio together again

username3 they've been friends since forever, love how they support each other

username4 Logan and YN's friendship >>>>>

username5 Why is she on holiday when she should be working on her driving?

username6 the way logan always has her back 🥺

username7 surely there are better uses of time with 4 races left and her seat under threat?

francolapinto Amazing 🙌

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You arrive at the Red Bull hospitality area in Austin, the excitement of being back after the break palpable in the air. As you walk in, you spot Max lounging on one of the sofas, scrolling through his phone.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Max grins, looking up from his device. "Did you get lost in the Texas wilderness?"

You roll your eyes playfully, dropping your bag on a nearby chair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness. Did I keep you waiting? I was busy signing autographs for all my adoring fans. You know how it is… oh wait, you don't."

"Ouch, that hurt," Max clutches his chest in mock pain, "And here I was, about to show you something interesting, but now I'm not so sure you deserve it."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. The banter with Max always helps you relax before a race weekend, and you've missed this during the break. "Oh come on, spill it, Verstappen. You know you want to. Don't make me steal your phone."

Max chuckles and pats the seat next to him. "Alright, alright. Sit down before you hurt yourself trying to reach my phone."

As you sit down, he pulls up a video on his phone. "Check this out. It's an interview with your biggest fan."

It's an interview with Franco. Your initial instinct is to look away, a mix of guilt and stubbornness rising in your chest. But something in Max's expression makes you watch.

"Lewis Hamilton and YN are my biggest idols in F1," Franco is saying, his face earnest. "The way YN races, her dedication and skill, it's truly inspiring. She's broken so many barriers and shown that talent knows no gender. I feel honored just to be on the same grid as her."

As the interview continues, Franco heaps more praise on you, his admiration clear in every word. You feel a twinge of guilt, remembering how cold you've been towards him. The genuine respect in his voice makes you uncomfortable, forcing you to confront your own prejudices.

"Her overtake on Leclerc in Interlagos last year? That was pure brilliance," Franco continues. "I've watched that move countless times, trying to learn from it. YN's not just a great driver, she's changing the face of the sport. I hope one day I can race wheel-to-wheel with her and show her the respect she deserves on track."

Max turns off the video and looks at you expectantly. "I think you owe someone an apology," he says, his tone gentle but firm.

You nod slowly, the realization sinking in. A wave of shame washes over you as you remember your cold behavior towards Franco. "I think I do," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes. What matters is how we fix them. Franco's a good kid, and he really looks up to you. Maybe it's time to give him a chance?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "I actually talked to Logan last week," you confess, watching Max's eyebrows rise in surprise. "He's doing well, actually - focusing on IndyCar now. But we talked a lot about… everything."

"Yeah?" Max shifts in his seat, clearly intrigued. It's not often you open up about these things.

"He basically told me I needed to stop fighting battles that weren't mine to fight. Said he appreciates me having his back, but Franco isn't the enemy here. He's just chasing his dream, like we all did. Logan said he remembers how it felt, getting his first chance - we all do."

Max nods thoughtfully. "Logan's right, you know. We've all been there at some point - getting an opportunity because someone else lost theirs. It's just how F1 works sometimes."

"I know," you admit, standing up. "And I've been unfair to Franco. He's actually doing a really good job with Williams, fighting in the midfield with a car that's not the easiest to drive. And here I am, making him feel unwelcome when I should be supporting talent. Some role model I am, right?"

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks, though his smile suggests he already knows.

You spot Franco heading towards the Williams hospitality area. "I'm going to make it right."

Walking over to Williams, you feel your heart pounding a little faster with each step. You find Franco sitting at one of the tables, going through data on his laptop with his race engineer.

"Franco?" you call out. "Could I steal you for a moment?"

He looks up, surprise evident on his face. "YN? Hi… yeah, of course." He glances at his engineer, who nods and excuses himself.

"Mind if I sit?" you ask, gesturing to the empty chair. When he nods, you take a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. A proper one."

Franco starts to shake his head, but you hold up a hand. "Please, let me finish. I've been unfair to you, and it wasn't right. I let my loyalty to Logan blind me to the fact that you're just a talented driver making the most of your opportunity. I've been cold, sometimes even hostile, and you didn't deserve any of that."

"I… thank you," Franco says quietly. "That means a lot. I want you to know, I reached out to Logan when-"

"I know," you interrupt gently. "He told me. That's partly why I'm here. You showed real class doing that, Franco. And you're doing a great job with the car. That P8 in Baku? That was proper racing."

A genuine smile breaks across his face. "Coming from you, that really means a lot. You know, I've watched your races since I was in F3. The way you fought through all the doubters, proved everyone wrong… you're really an inspiration."

You feel your throat tighten unexpectedly. "I had no idea."

"That's why your opinion means so much," Franco admits, fiddling with his water bottle. "When you seemed disappointed in me being here… it hurt, you know?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, meaning it more than ever. "How about we start fresh? Maybe you can talk me through that overtake in Baku - I noticed you used a similar line to what I did in Interlagos last year."

Franco's eyes light up. "You caught that? I actually studied your move while preparing for the race! The way you positioned the car on entry…"

You spend the next twenty minutes discussing racing lines and overtaking techniques, the earlier tension completely dissolved. Franco's enthusiasm is infectious, reminding you of your own early days in F1.

When you finally walk back to Max, you feel lighter than you have in months. He greets you with a knowing smile. "Feel better?"

"Much better," you admit. "Sometimes you need a kick in the right direction So thank you, I needed that wake-up call."

"Anytime," he smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders, "Can't have my teammate being the paddock villain, can I? That's my job."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,667,459 others

yourinstagram rookies keeping us on our toes 😤 good battles today @/francolapinto

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 franco is going to piss his pants

williamsracing Our rookie giving the Red Bull a run for their money 💙

username4 she shouldn’t be acknowledging that a rookie in a williams is making it hard for her… embarrasing

username5 the start of YN and Franco's friendship? 👀

username7 the tension between these two was getting old, glad they're friends now

username8 HANDLE YOUR SEAT

username8 MY DUO 😭❤️

francolapinto Next time I won’t make it easy for you!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The private jet hums quietly through the night sky towards Mexico City. Most of the other drivers are asleep, exhausted from the intense Austin weekend. You find yourself unable to sleep, your mind still racing from the events of the day. Glancing around the dimly lit cabin, you notice Franco is also awake, absently flipping through a magazine.

Catching your eye, he gives you a warm smile and moves to the empty seat across from you. "Can't sleep either?"

"Too much adrenaline still," you admit, adjusting your position to face him better. "Great drive today, by the way. That point was well-deserved."

Franco's face lights up at the compliment. "Thanks! Though it's nothing compared to your battle with Lando. I was watching it from behind and thought 'there's no way she's going to make that stick' but then you just… did. It was incredible."

You laugh softly, careful not to wake the others. "There was a moment there where I wasn't sure either. But sometimes you just have to go for it, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Franco grins. "Like that time in F3 when I tried to go around the outside at Spa and ended up practically in another timezone."

"Please tell me there's video of that," you snicker.

"Unfortunately for my dignity, yes. I think my engineer still uses it as an example of what not to do."

The conversation flows naturally, jumping from racing stories to childhood memories. You find yourself genuinely enjoying his company, something that would have seemed impossible just a few weeks ago.

"So what made you want to be a racing driver?" you ask, genuinely curious.

As Franco launches into how he found his passion for the sport, you find yourself really looking at him properly for the first time. The soft cabin lighting catches the angles of his face, and you notice details you'd overlooked before. His eyes are warm with flecks of gold, crinkling slightly at the corners when he smiles. There's a small scar above his right eyebrow, barely noticeable unless you're paying attention. His dark hair is slightly disheveled from the long race day, a few strands falling across his forehead.

You catch yourself thinking how handsome he actually is, in that classic way. His animated expressions as he talks about racing make him even more attractive, his passion for the sport evident in every gesture.

"...and that's when I knew I wanted to do this forever," he finishes, then looks slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to get carried away when talking about racing."

"No, don't apologize," you say quickly. "It's refreshing to see that kind of enthusiasm. Some of the guys get so jaded after a while."

Franco's smile turns a bit shy. "Speaking of enthusiasm, I'm really excited about racing in Mexico this weekend. It's one of my favorite cities - the atmosphere is just incredible."

"The fans are amazing there," you agree. "Though I still haven't found a really good place to eat in Mexico City. The hotel restaurant gets old pretty quickly."

Franco's eyes light up. "Oh, you have to let me help with that! I know a couple of amazing restaurants in the city. There's this incredible place that serves the best traditional dishes you've ever tasted, and another one in that does contemporary Mexican cuisine that would blow your mind."

You find yourself intrigued, both by the suggestion and the eager way he's describing it. "That sounds way better than room service."

"We could..." he hesitates for a moment, then continues with determination, "we could go together, if you'd like? After Thursday's media duties maybe? I'd love to show you my favorite spots."

There's something endearing about the way he's trying to sound casual while clearly being nervous about asking. You feel a flutter in your stomach that you definitely weren't expecting.

"You know what? That sounds great," you say, surprised by how much you mean it. "It's about time I experienced proper Mexican cuisine."

Franco's face breaks into a brilliant smile. "Perfect! I'll make a reservation for Thursday evening then. Trust me, you won't regret it."

As the conversation continues, you can't help but notice how natural it feels now, how easily you're laughing at his jokes and sharing stories. It's hard to believe this is the same person you were avoiding just a few weeks ago.

As other drivers start stirring from their sleep, Franco returns to his original seat, but not before confirming your dinner plans one more time.

Watching him walk away, you find yourself looking forward to Thursday evening more than you probably should. It's just dinner with a colleague, you tell yourself, even as you catch yourself smiling at the thought of it.

"Just dinner," you whisper to yourself, but somehow, you're not entirely convinced.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yourinstagram has added to their close friends stories

replies:

georgerussell63 So that was all the giggling I heard during the flight

oscarpiastri I’m so telling Logan

maxverstappen1 Can I say “I told you so” now?

francolapinto close friends privileges already? wow

↳ yourinstagram don’t push it colapinto

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The hotel lobby is relatively quiet as you wait for Franco, having agreed to meet there before heading to the restaurant. You've opted for casual - a simple black dress that makes you feel confident but not overdressed.

"Ready to have your mind blown by the best food in Mexico City?" Franco's voice makes you turn. He's wearing dark jeans and a well-fitted navy button-down, and you try not to notice how good he looks.

"Big claims require big proof," you tease, falling into step beside him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Lando's familiar accent cuts through the lobby. He's just coming in from what looks like a gym session, and his surprised smirk makes you want to roll your eyes. "Interesting dinner plans?"

"Just showing YN the local cuisine," Franco says smoothly, though you notice his ears turning slightly pink.

"Right, right," Lando drawls, his eyes dancing with amusement. "The local cuisine. In your nice shirt. At that fancy place you've been talking about for weeks-"

"Goodbye, Lando," you cut him off, grabbing Franco's arm and steering him toward the exit, trying to ignore Lando's knowing chuckle behind you. You knew it was a matter of time before the entire grid finds out you went out with Franco.

The restaurant is everything Franco promised and more. The conversation flows easily between you, and you find yourself charmed by the way he seamlessly switches between Spanish and English while ordering, the way he leans in slightly when you're talking, the way his hand occasionally brushes yours across the table.

"No way," you laugh, taking another sip of wine. "You did not challenge your friend to a dance-off."

"I absolutely did," Franco grins. "And I won, by the way. Though there might have been some tequila involved."

"I would pay good money to see that."

"Play your cards right," he says with a playful wink, "and maybe you'll get a private demonstration."

The flirtatious comment catches you off guard, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. Franco seems pleased with this reaction, his confidence growing throughout the evening.

The evening continues, warm and comfortable. Franco insists on ordering dessert - "You haven't lived until you've tried their churros con chocolate" - and you find yourself sharing stories between bites of perfectly crispy churros.

"So," Franco says, wiping chocolate from his lip with a napkin, "you, Oscar, and Logan - that's quite the trio. How did that happen?"

You laugh, fondly remembering those early days. "We practically grew up together in karting. I was this tiny kid trying to prove myself, Oscar was already sassy even at eight years old, and Logan… well, Logan was Logan."

"Let me guess - immediate chaos?" Franco grins.

"Oh, absolutely. We used to drive our parents and coaches crazy. These three kids who wouldn't stop racing each other even after practice was over." You smile at the memory. "We've been inseparable ever since. Though now Logan's living his best life in Florida."

Franco's eyes soften. "You really miss having him in the paddock, don't you?"

"Yeah," you admit quietly. "I do. But he's happy, and that's what matters. Plus, he texts me stupid memes at least twenty times a day, so it's like he never left."

After asking for the bill — one that Franco didn't let you pay no matter how much you insisted — you decided to walk back to the hotel. You were aware that his hand was close to yours as you walked side by side, almost brushing your fingers, but you didn't dare to take that step, and neither did he.

You reach the hotel, but instead of heading straight for the elevators, Franco suggests taking the scenic route through the garden. The night is too nice to end just yet.

"I have to say," he remarks as you walk, "you look beautiful tonight. That dress is…" he makes an exaggerated chef's kiss gesture, making you laugh.

"Smooth, Colapinto. Very smooth."

"I try," he winks, and you roll your eyes but can't hide your smile.

The walk to your room comes too quickly. Outside your door, Franco turns to you with a soft smile.

"Thank you for tonight," he says. "It was… nice. Really nice."

"It was," you agree, finding yourself meaning it completely. "Thank you for showing me your favorite spot."

There's a moment where you both just look at each other, the air charged with something unspoken. Franco takes a small step closer, then seems to think better of it.

"Goodnight, YN," he says softly, squeezing your hand once before letting go.

"Goodnight, Franco," you reply, watching him head down the hallway.

As you close the door behind you, you lean against it, smiling to yourself. You can already hear Max's smug "I told you so" tomorrow, but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 14,892 users

f1gossip🚨 Franco Colapinto and YN spotted having dinner together in Mexico City. They spent over two hours at the restaurant according to witnesses.

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username2 This is getting interesting... 👀

username3 STOP I'M CRYING 😭❤️

username4 they're just friends guys, calm down

username4 the way he makes her laugh though!!!

username5 watch how they'll deny everything tomorrow

username6 MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS

username8 this has to be more than just friendship...

username10 I MANIFESTED THIS

username12 focus on racing instead of dating maybe?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Brazilian rain hammers down relentlessly on the Interlagos circuit. It's barely 6 AM, but the paddock is already buzzing with nervous energy for the early sprint qualifying. You stifle a yawn as you check your phone for what must be the hundredth time that morning. Another message from Franco pops up - a picture of himself looking comically miserable in the rain with the caption "Maybe if we all pretend we didn't see the rain, they'll cancel quali?"

The past week has been unexpected in the best way possible. After that dinner in Mexico, something shifted. What started as sharing breakfast in the hotel turned into spending every free moment together. During the long flight to São Paulo, George had dramatically sighed and switched seats with Franco, muttering something about "not being able to take the longing looks across the plane anymore."

"Someone's cheerful for 6 AM," Max comments, walking into the garage as you quickly type a response to Franco. "Let me guess - Argetinian company keeping you entertained?"

You try to hide your smile but fail miserably. "Shut up and focus on qualifying."

"Oh, I'm focused," he grins. "Unlike someone who keeps looking at their phone every two minutes."

"I'm just-"

"YN," Max interrupts, counting off on his fingers, "he waited outside our debrief yesterday just to walk you to dinner. He somehow always knows your coffee order. And don't think I didn't notice him giving you his jacket yesterday."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "We're just friends."

"Right," Max smirks. "Friends. Like how Charles and I are 'just friends' when we're trying to punt each other off track."

"Shut up, as if you weren't secretly in love with each other."

A few hours later, as you prepare for the drivers' parade, Oscar sidles up next to you with his trademark grin.

"Well, well, if it isn't the stranger," he says dramatically. "Remember me? One of your best friends? Though I suppose you wouldn't know, being attached at the hip with a certain Williams driver these days."

You roll your eyes, but there's no heat in it. "Miss me that much, Piastri?"

"Just saying, used to be we'd get coffee before parade, now it's all 'Sorry Oscar, Franco already got me coffee,'" he mimics your voice terribly.

You're about to retort when Franco appears, and Oscar's grin widens. "And that's my cue. Have fun, kids!" He winks before sauntering off.

"Ignore him," you say when you notice a small smile in Franco's face, "He's the perpetual pain in my ass."

"He's okay," Franco says, standing closer to you. You're trying to get your hair in order when you realize something's missing.

"Shit," you mutter, patting your pockets. "I forgot my hair tie."

"You always braid it before races, right?"

"Yeah," you sigh, still searching. "I'm stupidly superstitious about it. Haven't gotten into the car without a perfect braid since F3."

"Here," Franco pulls a hair tie from his wrist. At your surprised look, he shrugs. "I started carrying one after Mexico. Just in case," he shrugs, as if he was saying the most obvious thing ever, "Turn around."

"You know how to braid hair?"

"Sisters, remember? I'm practically a professional." His fingers are gentle as they work through your hair. "Besides, can't have you breaking your streak because of a missing hair tie."

You're acutely aware of the other drivers watching with varying degrees of amusement. Lewis gives you a knowing wink as he passes, while Charles not-so-subtly elbows Oscar and gestures toward you two.

"There," he says finally, securing the end with your hair tie. "Perfect braid for perfect racing."

You reach back to feel it - it is indeed perfect. When you turn to thank him, you find him much closer than expected, his eyes soft as they meet yours.

"Show off," you manage to say, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing.

"Only for you," he replies with a wink, and you hear what sounds suspiciously like Alex whispering "Just kiss already" to George.

The moment is broken by the announcement for drivers to take their places on the parade truck. As you climb aboard, you catch Oscar making exaggerated swooning gestures at you, while Max simply mouths "Just friends?" with a knowing smirk.

Franco takes his place beside you on the truck, close enough that your shoulders touch, and somehow you find you don't really care who's watching.

"Nice braid, by the way," Charles calls out teasingly from behind you. "Franco, think you could do mine next time?"

"Get your own hair stylist, Leclerc," you call back, and Franco's laugh next to you makes everything - the bad qualifying, the rain, the teasing - worth it.

The truck starts moving, and Franco's hand finds yours, hidden from view between you. You intertwine your fingers with his, and neither of you let go for the entire parade.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 21,765 others

f1_insider🚨 Christian Horner spotted leaving Williams hospitality after a 2-hour meeting in Brazil. This comes amid increasing speculation about driver changes for 2025.

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username1 They're not even trying to be subtle anymore…

username2 leave YN alone challenge

username3 Franco to Red Bull confirmed? 👀

username5 WAIT WHAT

username7 the timing of this… right before quali 😬

username8 everyone acting surprised like this hasn't been brewing for weeks username11 They're trying to destabilize her before the race

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 2,093,032 others

yourinstagram brazil never disappoints. p15 ➡️ p2. proud of this one.

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username1 IM STILL CRYING

username2 MIC DROP

maxverstappen1 Proper racing today 💪🏻 That defense in the last 10 laps 🔥Love you kiddo, couldn't ask for a better teammate

↳ username1 max said SHE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE

danielricciardo THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! That's my girl!

username3 EVERYONE'S PRIDE AND JOY

username4 she got lucky and still no win this season

landonorris Absolute monster in the wet

logansargeant THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND

username5 this is why she deserves that seat

username6 where are all the haters now? 🤫

username7 that battle through the midfield was masterclass

username8 Silencing critics in the best way possible

liked by username1, username2 and 14,088 others

f1gossip YN's radio messages during Franco's crash show a different side to their "rivalry." Listen to how her voice changes when she finds out it's him. Sometimes the real feelings come through in moments like these.

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username2 this doesn't sound like someone who "hates" him

username3 top I'm crying 😭

username4 "tell me he's okay" broke me

username6 forget the rivalry narrative, that's genuine concern

username7 MY DRIVERS STOOOOP

username8 this is the most emotion we've heard from her all season

username9 notice how she's been cold towards him for weeks but the second he's in danger…

username10 SOMETHING SHIFTED

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The easy banter has become your normal over the past week. Ever since Brazil, where you fought your way from P15 to P2 in treacherous conditions, something has shifted between you. The walls you'd carefully maintained started crumbling during that rain-soaked weekend.

Your phone buzzes again - this time it's Christian Horner requesting a meeting. Your stomach tightens instinctively. These meetings have become more frequent throughout the season, always with subtle undertones about your future with the team.

Franco: "Meeting with James in 10. Wish me luck not falling asleep in the sim debrief. Call you after?"

You: "Sure, good luck x"

The 'x' slips out before you can stop it - you've never added that before. Your finger hovers over the delete button, but he's already seen it.

Franco: "Did THE YN just send me a kiss? Screenshots being taken. This is historic

You're still smiling about your early interaction with Franco when you walk into Christian Horner's office, but his expression is serious enough to make your smile fade. You've been here before - these "casual meetings" that could determine your future.

"YN, thanks for making time," he gives a polite smile, "Please, take a seat."

You sit, trying to read his expression. Last week's podium trophy sits on a shelf behind him - your trophy, earned after fighting through half the grid.

"As you're aware, your contract includes certain performance clauses. While your recent results, particularly Brazil, have been impressive, we need to consider all options for the team's future."

That familiar knot in your stomach returns. "What kind of options?"

"I was at Williams recently," Christian says carefully, "discussing various possibilities, including Franco Colapinto."

The world seems to tilt slightly. Franco. At Williams. Meeting about possibilities. Just like with Logan.

"I got P2 in Brazil," you say, hating how defensive your voice sounds. "Started P15. In the rain. I battled with the entire grid while also defending for Max to secure a double podium."

"Yes, and it was an exceptional drive-"

"I'm fifth in the championship. I've scored podiums consistently despite the car being a nightmare to drive most of the times. What more do I need to do?"

Christian's expression remains neutral. "This isn't about any single result, YN. We need to evaluate all potential scenarios for the team's future."

"So you're considering replacing me," you say flatly. "With Franco."

"I trust you understand this is just business, YN," Christian says as you stand to leave. "We have to explore every option."

You pause at the door, turning back slightly. "Of course. Business." Your voice is perfectly controlled. "Just like my P2 in Brazil was business. My podiums were business. Everything I've given to this team has been business."

"YN-"

"No, I get it. Really." You manage a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I have some sim work to review."

It hits you as you drive back to your apartment - every friendly conversation, every shared coffee, every late-night text… none of it was real. Franco isn't your friend. He's just another driver who sees you as an obstacle to overcome, a seat to claim. Just like everyone else since you entered F1, smiling to your face while plotting to take what's yours.

Back in your apartment, your phone keeps lighting up with Franco's messages, each one making your chest tighter. You can't bring yourself to block him - that feels too much like acknowledging how much this hurts. Instead, you just... stop responding. Set the phone aside. Focus on your laptop, on race data, on anything else.

Your phone rings - Oscar's familiar face popping up on the screen.

"Finally!" he exclaims when you answer. "I've been trying to reach you all day. You missed the most hilarious thing - Lando tried to make vegemite pasta."

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling. "Please tell me someone filmed it."

The conversation flows easily, almost making you forget about everything else. Almost.

"Oh yeah," Oscar adds casually, "ran into Franco at paddle today. He seemed pretty worried-"

"He better focus on preparing for his Red Bull seat instead."

"His what?" Oscar sounds confused. "Stinks, what are you on about?"

"Horner had meetings at Williams. About Franco. About possibilities. Sound familiar?"

"Hang on, hang on. Did you even talk to Franco about this? Because he genuinely seemed concerned-"

"Of course he seemed concerned, Os. That's the whole point."

"YN, I know you. You're doing that thing where you push people away before they can hurt you. But stinks, I really don't think-"

"I have to go. Sim data to review."

"At least talk to him-"

You end the call, turning back to your laptop. Three races left. Three chances to prove everyone wrong. No more distractions, no more letting your guard down.

You'll do it the only way that matters in F1 - on track, where lap times speak louder than friendly texts, and championship points mean more than shared coffee breaks.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You've managed three weeks. Three weeks of perfectly crafted indifference, of calling him "the Williams driver" in interviews, of taking different routes through the paddock just to avoid those chance encounters that used to make your heart skip. Three weeks of pretending you don't miss his stupid sparkle messages, or the way he always saves you a coffee during early practice sessions.

But now your hands won't stop shaking as you stare at your dark phone screen, trying to ignore the screens showing the mangled Williams in the Las Vegas Strip. You've watched the replay seventeen times without meaning to, each time feeling your heart stop at the impact.

"This is getting ridiculous," Max's voice is quiet beside you, making you jump. You didn't even hear him approach. "Stop with this nonsense."

"I'm fine," you respond automatically, thumb still pretending to scroll on your black screen. "Just checking the timing sheets."

"Your phone isn't even on." Max's hand appears, gently taking the phone from your trembling grip. "They've taken him to UMC. Just go."

"I can't," you whisper, finally looking up at your teammate. You hate how your voice catches. "Everyone will—"

"Who cares what everyone will say?" Max interrupts, already reaching for your bag. "Hannah's got a car waiting. Go."

"I don't want to," you protest weakly, but even you can hear how unconvincing it sounds. "I don't need to—"

"Stop," Max's voice is firm but gentle. "You're not going back to this. Not after everything. You care about him, stop pretending you don't."

You take a shaky breath, then nod once. You're out of the garage before you can change your mind and rebuild those walls you've spent three weeks perfecting. Because Max is right – you do care. You care so much it terrifies you. And right now, nothing else matters except knowing he's okay.

You hate hospitals. You've spent too many hours in them after your own crashes, but somehow this is worse. Standing outside his room, you're suddenly unsure of everything. Three weeks of carefully constructed distance seems ridiculous now.

"You can come in instead of hovering at the door," Franco's voice carries from inside, slightly hoarse but still holding that hint of amusement that always used to drive you crazy. "Unless you're planning to run away again."

You step inside, trying to maintain some composure even as your heart clenches at the sight of him. "I wasn't running away," you say automatically, but it sounds weak even to your ears.

"No?" He raises an eyebrow, wincing slightly at the movement. "So you just happened to take different paddock routes?"

"Franco—"

"It's back to Franco now? Not 'the Williams driver'?" There's hurt beneath his teasing tone, and it makes your chest tight. "That last interview was particularly cold, by the way. Very convincing."

You stay by the door, arms crossed. "I thought that's what everyone wanted. Space. Distance. Rivalry."

"You're here now though."

"Max made me come," you lie.

"Sure he did." Franco's small smile tells you he sees right through you. "Nothing to do with how many times you asked if I was okay over the radio?"

You feel your cheeks heat up. Of course he's heard the radio already. "I would have asked about any driver."

"YN," his voice softens, and it breaks something in you. "Stop pretending. Please. I miss my friend."

The last words hit you hard, and you finally let your arms drop, taking a step closer. "I miss you too," you whisper, and it feels like admitting defeat and victory all at once. "I was so scared when I saw the crash."

"Come here," he says quietly, patting the edge of the bed.

You hesitate for just a moment before crossing the room, carefully sitting beside him. "I'm sorry," you say softly. "For these past weeks. For being harsh. For—"

"I know," he interrupts, his hand finding yours. "I know. But you're here now."

You squeeze his hand gently, feeling the walls you've built crumbling completely. "You could have died today and I would have never—" you stop yourself, running your thumb over his knuckles without thinking. "All because of this stupid seat."

Franco's quiet for a moment, then lets out a small laugh that turns into a wince. "Is that what you think? That I'm after your seat?"

"Aren't you?" You try to pull your hand away but he holds on. "The meetings with Christian, the—"

"YN," he interrupts, waiting until you look at him. "I never got any offers from RedBull.”

You freeze. "What?"

"I'm not taking your seat," he says softly. "In fact, I still don't have a seat."

"But...the meetings with Horner?" You're struggling to process this. "He basically told me they were considering options for next season, and those options were you in my seat."

"Sounds to me that he was pressuring you." His eyes hold yours. "My team had meetings with RedBull, yes. But we never got a solid offer, not even for VCARB."

You feel slightly dizzy. Three weeks of avoiding him, of building up walls, of convincing yourself he was just another driver trying to take your seat...

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" you finally manage.

"Well, you've taken the long way through the paddock just to avoid me," he teases, then becomes serious. "I wouldn't hurt you like that. You know that. Or at least, you used to."

"I got scared," you admit quietly. "When I heard about the meetings, I just... it was easier to push you away than to admit that I care about you."

The silence that follows feels heavy with everything unsaid. Finally, Franco squeezes your hand gently.

"Well," he says softly, "nearly dying seems to have worked out well for me then."

"That's not funny," but you're fighting a smile.

"Made you come see me though, didn't it?"

"I hate you," but there's no heat in it.

"No, you don't," he says confidently. "You just admitted you care about me. No taking it back now."

You roll your eyes but don't deny it. "How are you feeling, really?"

"Like I crashed a car at 200mph," he grins, then softens. "Better now though."

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liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,908,479 others

yourinstagram champion x4 🏆so proud to be part of this journey. no one deserves it more than you @/maxverstappen1. thank you for being the best teammate anyone could ask for, on and off track.

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username1 IM CRYINGGGGG

username2 this is my family

maxverstappen1 Couldn't ask for a better teammate and bonus little sister. Thanks for having my back all season 💪🏻

↳ username1 HE SAID SHE'LL ALWAYS BE MY TEAMMATE

danielricciardo Look at my kids making me proud 🥹

christianhorner Fantastic team effort all year. Proud of both of you.

↳ username1 FIX HER CAR AND STOP FEEDING HER TO THE PRESS!!

username5 the way max waited to celebrate until she crossed the finish line

username6 remember when they said they wouldn't get along

username7 brother sister energy we love to see it

francolapinto Amazing work 🙌

↳ username8 bro ready to take her seat

username9 their relationship is too pure. max adores her like she's his little sister and yn would take a murder charge for him pretty much

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After showering and changing post-race, you're walking back to your hotel room when your phone buzzes. Franco's name lights up the screen: "Hey... could you come to my room? Need to get my mind off today. Room 412."

You hesitate only briefly before responding. After everything that's happened - the crash, the hospital, the conversations that followed - things between you have felt different.

Qatar had been grueling, you managed to score a solid P4 but the story for Franco had been different. He was part of a collision during turn one that ended his race right there. You heard it on the radio and your heart couldn't help but ache for him.

When you knock, Franco opens the door looking drained, his usual spark dimmed by the day's events. He's changed into soft sweatpants and a team shirt, hair still damp from his shower.

"That bad, huh?" you say softly, following him into the room.

He drops onto the bed with a sigh. "First lap incidents are the worst. All that preparation, all those hours in the sim… gone in seconds."

You settle into the armchair across from him. "I saw the replay. That wasn't your fault - Hulkenberg came across way too aggressively."

"Doesn't matter whose fault it was. Points are points, and I need them." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to recognize as stress. "The pressure's getting intense. Everyone keeps asking about next year's plans, and I just… I don't know."

"Hey," you say gently, moving to sit beside him. "You're one of the most talented drivers out there. Everyone sees it."

"Do they?" His voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Because right now it feels like every mistake is being magnified. One DNF and suddenly everyone's questioning if I deserve the seat."

"I know that feeling too well," you admit. "I mean, I spent three weeks avoiding you because I thought you were after my seat."

That draws a small laugh from him. "Not my finest moment in the hospital, guilt-tripping you about it."

"It worked though, didn't it?" you nudge his shoulder playfully, "Plus, I guilt tripped you about Logan's seat for the longest time, it's only fair."

"Yeah, well, I was desperate. Do you know how hard it was watching you take different routes through the paddock just to avoid me?"

"About as hard as it was taking those routes," you say softly. "I missed you."

"You did manage to find some creative paths though," he teases, his mood lightening slightly. "I particularly enjoyed watching you duck behind Lando in the airport."

"I did not duck!"

"You absolutely did. Practically dove behind him. Poor guy had no idea why you suddenly needed an urgent conversation about sim settings."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "Well, what about you? Mr. 'Oh sorry, I didn't see you there' when we literally made eye contact in the media pen?"

"That was Oscar's fault! He told me my hair looked weird and I got distracted."

"Your hair always looks weird."

He gasps in mock offense. "Take that back! This hair has its own fan accounts."

"Yeah, horror fan accounts maybe," you tease.

"Says the person who needed my expert braiding skills before races."

"Which you learned from your sisters, if I remember correctly?"

His expression softens. "Actually… I might have YouTube'd it after Mexico."

That catches you off guard. "You… what?"

"Yeah," he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "Spent like three hours practicing on a rope I found in the gym. Alex caught me and wouldn't stop laughing."

"That's…" you feel something warm bloom in your chest. "That's actually really sweet."

"Don't tell anyone," he grins. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Oh yeah? What reputation is that?"

"You know, cool, mysterious, definitely not the type to watch hair braiding tutorials."

You laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but anyone who's seen you try to work the coffee machine knows you're not mysterious."

"That machine is complicated!"

"It has three buttons!"

"Three very confusing buttons," he protests. "Besides, you're the one who always shows up right when I'm struggling with it."

"Pure coincidence."

"Right," he smirks. "Just like how you 'coincidentally' started showing up earlier to breakfast after I mentioned that's when I usually go?"

You feel your cheeks warm again. "I just… wanted to beat the rush."

"The rush of exactly two other drivers who eat that early?"

"Shut up," you mutter, but you're smiling.

The air between you changes, becomes charged with everything unsaid. You're suddenly very aware of how close you're sitting, how his eyes have dropped to your lips.

He doesn't say anything else, instead, he leans forward and kisses you, soft and careful, like he's afraid you might pull away. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you feel yourself melting into the touch.

When he pulls back, you blink at him, slightly dazed. "You kissed me."

His familiar smirk returns, though his eyes remain soft. "Well done, Sherlock."

You roll your eyes at his sass, but can't help smiling. This time, you're the one who leans in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is deeper, more certain. His hand slides into your hair as you press closer, and you feel him smile against your mouth.

"You know," he says softly, playing with a strand of your hair, "besides being one of my racing idols, you've also always been my crush."

You pull back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Don't let it go to your head," he grins.

"Oh my god," you laugh. "You were such a fan! Did you have posters too?"

He groans, hiding his face in your shoulder. "I'm never telling you anything again."

"No, no, this is great," you tease. "I'm just a year and a half older than you, Colapinto, and you completely idolized me."

"I hate you," he mumbles into your shoulder.

"No you don't," you say confidently. "You just admitted you had a crush on me."

He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. "Still do, actually. Although the real you is much more annoying than poster you."

"Poster me didn't call you out on your coffee machine struggles."

"Poster you was much nicer," he agrees, but he's smiling as he leans in to kiss you again.

This kiss is slower, deeper, filled with everything you've both been holding back. When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his.

"Been wanting to do that for a while," he admits softly.

"Even when I was avoiding you? Or giving you crap to defend my best friend's honor?"

"Especially then. Do you know how adorable you looked trying to pretend you didn't see me in the paddock?"

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Never," he grins, pulling you closer. "I have years of fan stories to make up for."

You kiss him again just to shut him up, but you can feel him smiling against your lips, and you think maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you're meant to be.

"You're never going to let me live down the fan thing, are you?" he asks when you break apart.

"Not a chance," you smirk. "I bet Alex has pictures of you practicing those braids too."

"Don't you dare!"

But you're already reaching for your phone, laughing as he tries to grab it from you, and somehow you end up tangled together on the bed, both laughing too hard to care about anything else.

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You're halfway through your coffee when Franco appears, wearing his team polo and that signature grin that used to irritate you but now makes your stomach flutter. It's still surreal how much has changed - from despising him for taking Logan's seat, to avoiding him over your seat rumors, to… whatever this is now. He slides into the seat next to you, leaning in for a kiss. You quickly place a hand on his chest, pushing him back playfully.

"Easy there, hotshot," you tease. "Let's keep it professional."

"Professional?" He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't be shy now. Not after last week."

You feel your cheeks warm at the memory. "Last week was different. We were alone."

"Oh, so that's the rule? Only when we're alone?" He leans closer, lowering his voice. "Should we discuss what else happened when we were alone?"

"Franco!" You swat his arm, but you're fighting a smile.

"What? I'm just saying, for someone who used to avoid me like I had the plague, you sure changed your tune."

"Yeah, well," you stir your coffee, trying to maintain your composure, "turns out you're not as annoying as I thought."

"High praise," he chuckles. "Remember when you wouldn't even look at me in driver briefings?"

"Remember when you replaced my best friend and then tried to steal my seat?"

"I didn't try to steal your seat!" he protests. "That was all media speculation."

Before you can respond, Max drops into the seat across from you, already looking amused at finding you two together.

"Well, well," he says, reaching for the coffee pot. "If it isn't my favorite teammate and her… what are we calling this now?"

You roll your eyes. "We're calling it none of Max's business."

"Everything is Max's business," Max says cheerfully. "Especially when said business involves my teammate getting cozy with the competition."

Franco's phone buzzes and his expression shifts slightly as he reads the message, and you catch that flicker of worry he's been trying to hide all weekend. The weight of it being potentially his last race in F1 has been hanging over both of you.

"Engineers?" you ask softly.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Last pre-race meeting of the season. Hopefully not my last ever," he adds, attempting a joke that falls flat.

You reach for his hand under the table, giving it a quick squeeze. "Hey, you've shown what you can do this year. The pace is there, the talent is there-"

"The results aren't," he cuts in, running his free hand through his hair. "DNF and crashes don't exactly scream 'keep me for next year.'"

"The car's been shit though," Max speaks up, "Everyone knows that. You've outqualified your teammate and scored points."

"Try telling that to the team principals," Franco says, attempting a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Anyway, better go before they add 'chronically late' to my resume." He stands, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "See you later?"

"Of course," you say softly. "Good luck in the meeting."

Once Franco leaves, Max leans forward, "Okay, spill. Everything. Now."

"There's nothing to spill."

"Nothing to spill?" Max scoffs. "Last month you were convinced he was plotting to take your seat, and now he's kissing you goodbye at breakfast? That's not nothing."

"You don't need to know everything about my life, Max," you try to busy yourself with your coffee, that's pretty much cold by now.

"I'm the older brother you never wanted but got stuck with anyway, so I do need to know about these things."

You sigh, knowing he won't let this go. "Fine. After Qatar, things changed. We… spent time together."

"Spent time together?" Max wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not like that!" you protest, then lower your voice. "Well, not just like that. We talked a lot. About everything again - the rumors, the misunderstandings, why I was so angry about Logan, and… I don't know. It's different now. Good different. When I'm with him, everything just feels…" you trail off, searching for the right words.

"Right?" Max supplies, his teasing tone softening.

"Yeah," you admit. "Which makes this whole situation even harder. If he doesn't get a seat…"

"Then you'll figure it out," Max says, "But let's not write him off yet. Season's not over until the checkered flag."

You nod, but can't help glancing at the door Franco left through. "You know what's ironic?" you say, turning back to Max. "A few months ago, I was worried about him taking my seat. Now I'd give anything for him to have one, anywhere on the grid."

Max smiles knowingly. "Amazing what a few kisses can do."

"It's not just that," you protest. "He deserves to be here. He's so talented-"

"And you're completely smitten," Max interrupts, grinning.

"Shut up," You throw a napkin at him. "I'm getting a new teammate next year," you declare.

"No you're not," Max laughs. "You love me." He pauses, suddenly looking both nervous and excited. "Actually… want to know a secret?"

Something in his tone makes you lean forward. "Always."

"Kelly's pregnant," he says, a huge grin spreading across his face. "We just found out last month"

You practically leap across the table to hug him, nearly knocking over both your coffees in the process. "Oh my god! Max! I'm going to be an auntie!"

He laughs, hugging you back. "Actually…" he pulls back slightly to look at you, "What do you think about being a godmother?"

Your eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," he grins. "Who else would I trust to teach my kid how to properly terrorize the paddock?"

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm going to spoil them so much," you warn, hugging him again. "Like, an absolutely ridiculous amount."

"I know," he laughs. "That's kind of counting on it."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Just family for now," he says. "And you, obviously. Because you are family."

You're definitely crying now. "I hate you for making me cry before a race weekend."

"Sure you do," he grins. "Just like you hate Franco, right?"

You wipe your eyes, deciding to ignore his comment. "God, I can't believe you're going to be a dad!"

"Me neither," he admits, and there's something soft and vulnerable in his expression that makes your heart squeeze. "It's scary but… in a good way, you know?"

"You're going to be amazing," you tell him seriously. "The best dad ever."

His smile turns mischievous. "Just wait until Franco gets you pregnant-"

"And that's my cue to leave," you gather your things. "Congratulations again, future dad. I love you, even when you're the worst."

His laughter follows you out of the room. "Love you too, future godmother!"

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liked by maxverstappen1, francolapinto and 2,099,437 others

yourinstagram ABU DHABI WINNER! 🏆✨ still feels surreal to type those words. to win the last race of the season, after everything… no words can describe this feeling. thank you to every single person who never stopped believing in me, even when things got tough. to my incredible team - this one's for you. we did it! 🧡

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username1 SHE FUCKING DID IT

username2 first win of the season in the last race - poetic justice

username3 the way everyone doubted her at the start of the season and now look at her QUEEN BEHAVIOR

logansargeant YESSSS! That move was legendary! So proud of you!

username4 this feels so RIGHT

francolapinto Mi campeona 🖤 That last lap move was 🔥

↳ username1 IM CRYING OMFG

↳ username2 THEY'RE SO TOGETHER I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

username5 brb i'll be crying while i watch that video of her hugging franco

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You're still riding the high of your Abu Dhabi win as you unlock your apartment door. Your first win of the season, in the last race - it feels poetic, somehow. Like a final "fuck you" to everyone who doubted you, who questioned your seat, who spent the entire season speculating about your future.

The trophy sits in your bag, along with the champagne bottle Charles insisted you keep. Franco follows you in, still wearing that soft smile he's had since he watched you cross the finish line.

He's staying at your apartment since he doesn't have a place in Monaco and the now traditional drivers dinner is happening, after all you time together, inviting him over felt...natural.

The past few days have been a whirlwind - the podium, the celebrations, the multiple kisses stolen in your motorhome between media duties. The flight to Monaco where you both pretended to sleep but kept "accidentally" touching hands. It should feel fast, rushed, but somehow it just feels right.

"Still can't believe you pulled that move on the last lap," Franco says, dropping his bags by the door. "Even Max was impressed, I think you broke his brain a little."

"Speaking of broken, try not to destroy anything while you're here," you tease. "Some of us actually live in Monaco full-time."

Franco turns to you with mock offense. "When have I ever broken anything?"

"Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?" you raise an eyebrow. "Because I distinctly remember a certain incident with Lewis' scooter…"

"That was a manufacturing defect and you know it," he protests, moving closer.

"Sure it was," you laugh. "Just like the tablet in Singapore was a 'technical malfunction'?"

He's close enough now that you can smell his cologne, the same one that's been driving you crazy since Qatar. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never," you confirm, but your voice comes out softer than intended because he's looking at you the way he has been since that first kiss in his room - like you're something precious.

"Guest room's down the hall," you say quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "Bathroom's across from it, you know the drill."

Franco raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes that you're starting to know too well. "You're really going to make me take the guest room? After all our bonding?"

"Bonding?" you scoff. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Well, what would you call making out in your motorhome? And the plane bathroom? And-"

You cut him off by pressing your hand to his mouth. "Those were… moments of weakness."

He kisses your palm before moving your hand, and the simple gesture shouldn't make your heart race like it does. "Lots of moments."

"I was emotionally vulnerable," you argue weakly.

"Uh-huh," he steps closer, backing you against the wall. "And now?Are you emotionally vulnerable now?" His hands find your waist, and you try to ignore how right they feel there.

"I'm…" you start, but then he's kissing you, slow and deep, and you forget what you were going to say.

When he pulls back, you're both breathing heavily. "We should get ready for dinner," you manage.

"We should," he agrees, but kisses you again.

"Franco," you mumble against his lips. "We're already late."

"Five more minutes," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck.

It ends up being fifteen minutes before you finally push him away, your lips swollen and hair slightly messed up.

"Guest room," you point firmly. "Get changed."

He grins, stealing one last quick kiss before grabbing his bag. "Yes, boss."

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yourinstagram has added to their close friends story

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You arrive at Lewis' Monaco penthouse a fashionably acceptable ten minutes late, Franco's hand resting casually on your lower back as the elevator opens to the top floor. The space is already filled with the familiar chatter of your fellow drivers, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Look who finally made it," Charles calls out, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Got lost on the way from your apartment? It's only three blocks…"

"Traffic," you say smoothly, ignoring Franco's poorly concealed laugh beside you.

"Must have been terrible," Alex joins in, eyes twinkling. "Considering you live literally around the corner."

Lewis appears, saving you from having to respond. He hugs you warmly before turning to Franco with a grin. "No scooters allowed inside this time, mate."

"That was one time!" Franco protests as everyone laughs. "And it was definitely faulty manufacturing."

The evening flows easily, conversation and wine flowing freely as everyone celebrates the end of another season. You find yourself constantly aware of Franco's presence - the way he automatically hands you your favorite wine, how his hand finds yours under the table, the soft looks he gives you when he thinks no one's watching.

(They're all watching. These are racing drivers - subtlety isn't their strong suit.)

"Get together, everyone!" you call out later, holding up your phone. "I want a picture."

There's the usual chaos of twenty-odd drivers trying to arrange themselves, plenty of shoving and laughing as everyone finds their spot. Franco ends up behind you, his chest pressed against your back, hands resting lightly on your waist.

"Alright, someone else take it," Lando announces. "YN's too busy making heart eyes at Franco to frame it properly."

"I am not-"

"You kind of are," Pierre interrupts with a grin.

"Just like in Abu Dhabi," Oscar adds. "And the flight home. And baggage claim. And-"

"I hate all of you."

The night continues with more conversation, more drinks, and constant teasing from your friends. Even Charles joins in, muttering something about "finally dealing with all that sexual tension in the briefings."

By the time you leave, you're both pleasantly tipsy, walking back to your apartment with slightly unsteady steps. The moment your door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts.

"So," he says finally, stepping closer. "About that guest room…"

"What about it?" you ask, but you're already moving toward him.

"I'm thinking," he cups your face with one hand, "that it would be a shame to use it."

"Would it?"

"Mhmm," he's close enough now that you can feel his breath on your lips. "Especially when the winner deserves proper celebrations."

"Or maybe you're just being a horndog," you tease, even as your hands find their way to his chest.

"Maybe," he concedes. "Or maybe I just can't stop thinking about kissing you."

Your breath catches. "You've already kissed me plenty today."

"Not enough," he murmurs, then proves his point by capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is different from all the others. Those were stolen moments, quick and heated. This is slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize every second.

"Don't make me take the guest room," he murmurs against your lips.

You pretend to think about it, even as your hands slip under his shirt. "Well, since you asked so nicely…"

"I can be very nice," he grins, then kisses you again, backing you toward your bedroom.

"Prove it," you challenge.

The guest room remains empty that night. And many nights after.

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liked by pierregasly, francolapinto and 2,044,387 others

yourinstagram i love my little dysfunctional family !! yes i'm the one behind the camera

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 FRANCO'S FACE ??? DEVASTATED BC HIS GIRL IS NOT NEXT TO HIM

lewishamilton Always family ❤️

oscarpiastri Never sitting between you and your lover boy again..

↳ username1 HUH??

↳ username2 oscar spill the deets PLEASE

↳ logansargeant to the gc NOW

↳ username3 LET ME INNNNN

↳ username4 im crying

↳ yourinstagram i hate you both

francolapinto ❤️

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yn's biggest fans groupchat

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You're curled up on your couch, watching the lights of Monaco twinkle through your window as snow falls softly outside. Franco's just finished unpacking his bags, having arrived from Argentina an hour ago. The past weeks without him felt strangely empty, even though you'd been surrounded by family for Christmas.

"Mama keeps asking about the foods I mentioned you cook," Franco says, settling beside you with a grin. "She's convinced I'm making it up."

"Did you tell her it's mostly pasta and those empanadas you taught me to make?"

"Si, but she says my standards have dropped since moving to Europe," he laughs, stealing some of your blanket. "How was your family?"

"Good. Dad's still buzzing about Abu Dhabi. He's watched the replay about fifty times, especially that last lap battle with Max," you grin, throwing your legs over his lap. "How was home?"

"Hot," he sighs contentedly. "Really hot. Nothing like a proper Argentinian summer."

"Meanwhile I was freezing in London," you poke his side. "Speaking of which… don't you have some news to share?"

He raises an eyebrow. "How did you-"

"Carlos texted me. He's terrible at keeping secrets."

Franco runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you've come to recognize. "I signed with Williams. As their reserve driver for next season, there's talk about 2026, but nothing concrete yet."

"Franco!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him. "That's amazing!"

He hugs you back, letting out a relieved laugh. "You think so?"

"Of course I do!" you pull back to look at him. "Williams is doing great things, and with Carlos and Alex there…" you trail off, seeing something in his expression. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing bad," he assures quickly. "Just… I'll be based in England a lot. For simulator work and development."

"Oh," you say quietly, understanding dawning. You'd gotten used to having him here, in your space, in the paddock, in your life.

"Hey," he tilts your chin up. "It's not that far. And I'll still be at all the races. Plus," his lips quirk up, "I hear Nice has a pretty good airport."

You can't help but smile. "True. And I suppose I could be convinced to visit Grove occasionally."

"Only occasionally?" he teases.

"Well, I am very busy and important," you say loftily, making him laugh.

His eyes drop to your lips. "I'm sure you can save some time for me," he murmurs before closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft and familiar, like coming home after a long trip. When you pull back, he's wearing that small smile that always makes your stomach flip.

You settle back against him, comfortable silence falling between you. "Talk to me about next season," he says eventually. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Honestly? I'm nervous," you admit. "Abu Dhabi was amazing, but what if it was just luck? What if I can't do it again?"

"The same way Suzuka was luck? And Singapore? And that insane qualifying in Baku?" Franco shifts to look at you properly, "You've been fast all season. Abu Dhabi just proved what everyone already knew."

"Smooth," you laugh, then remember something. "Oh! Speaking of next year - what are you doing for New Year's Eve?"

"Nothing yet. Why?"

"Logan's throwing a party in Florida for his birthday. Want to come?"

Franco hesitates. "Won't that be…"

"What? Weird because you stole his seat?" you tease, making him groan.

"I thought we cleared that up months ago," he protests.

"We did, I just like messing with you," you grin. "Come on, it'll be fun. There'll be cake."

“You know my weakness,” he sighs dramatically. “Does this mean I get to kiss you at midnight?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be my midnight kiss,” you tease, even as you lean into him.

“No? Planning on kissing someone else?” he raises an eyebrow, hands settling on your waist.

“Maybe. Logan might have a hot friend…”

"Terrible," he murmurs against your lips. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you whisper back, just before he kisses you again.

When you finally break apart, he's already reaching for the remote. "Want to watch Qatar?"

You groan, but you're smiling. "I hate you."

"No you don't," he says confidently, pulling up the race highlights.

And as he starts his terrible commentary, making you laugh despite yourself, you think about how easy this is - whatever this is between you. No labels, no pressure, just… this.

Outside, Monaco continues to sparkle under the falling snow, but in here, with Franco's warmth beside you and his voice in your ear pointing out "that brilliant move you did in turn 4" for the hundredth time, you think maybe some things don't need defining to be perfect.

Plus, you already know who your midnight kiss is going to be. Not that you'll tell him that - his ego's big enough as it is.

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liked by username1, username2 and 12,870 others

f1gossip Spotted: F1's power couple enjoying a day out in Monaco! Franco Colapinto and YN were seen strolling around today, looking very cozy! The pair, who have been subject to dating rumors seemed to have no interest in hiding their relationship anymore.

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username1 THE FUUUUUCK

username2 i don't like this..

username3 FRANCO GET AWAYYYY she's going to distract him

username4 why is this lowkey powerful

username5 THIS PLOT TWIST OMFG

username6 i thought they hated each other ??

username7 oh how the tables have turned

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Music pulses from Logan's Miami beach house as you and Franco make your way up the palm-lined driveway. The December air is surprisingly warm, fairy lights twinkling in every tree and reflecting off the pool visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your hand is loosely intertwined with Franco's, something that still gives you butterflies even after weeks of... whatever this is between you.

"Birthday boy!" you call out as Logan spots you from the entrance, where he's greeting guests in a ridiculous party hat and an even more ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.

"If it isn't my best friend and the guy who stole my seat," Logan grins, pulling you into a tight hug before turning to Franco with an exaggerated suspicious look that quickly breaks into a genuine smile. "Good to see you, man."

"Happy birthday," Franco offers with a grin, accepting Logan's enthusiastic handshake-turned-hug. "Nice shirt."

"Right? YN said it was terrible, but what does she know about fashion?"

"Hey!" you protest, but you're laughing. "I have great taste."

Logan's eyes drift meaningfully to your joined hands. "Clearly," he smirks, making you blush and Franco chuckle. "Drinks are everywhere, food's by the pool, try not to fall in."

"That was one time," you mutter as Logan gets pulled away by more arriving guests.

Franco raises an eyebrow. "One time?"

"Don't ask. Come on, I need a drink before I tell you that story."

After getting drinks, you find yourself drifting between groups, Franco's hand a constant presence at the small of your back or linked with yours. It's nice, you think, not having to overthink every interaction, every touch. Here, away from the paddock and the cameras, you can just... be.

It's about an hour into the party when Logan finds you again, now sporting two party hats and what looks suspiciously like glitter on his cheek.

"Stinks! Just the person I wanted to see," he announces, dragging you away from where Franco is deep in conversation with Alex. "Back in five," he tells Franco with an exaggerated wink that makes you roll your eyes.

"Subtle," you comment as Logan leads you to the makeshift bar.

"Please, subtle went out the window when you two showed up holding hands like teenagers at prom," he snorts, mixing drinks with practiced ease. "Speaking of which..."

"Don't start," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Me? Start something? Never," he puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I just find it interesting that the same person who spent three hours ranting to me about 'that arrogant Argentine who stole your seat' is now making heart eyes at him across my party."

"You're impossible."

"And you're happy," he says softly, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. "Like, really happy. I haven't seen you like this in… well, ever."

You look down at your drink, feeling your cheeks warm. "Yeah, well…"

"Hey," Logan nudges your shoulder. "It's a good thing. You deserve this, YN. Someone who gets you, who understands the pressure and the crazy schedule and still looks at you like you hung the moon."

"He doesn't-"

"He absolutely does. Trust me, I've been watching him watch you all night. It's disgustingly cute."

"I'm kind of scared, Logan," you look down at your hands nervously, "Six months ago, I hated him. And now I can't picture myself apart from him. It's all happening really fast and I'm not quite sure when everything shifted, but I feel like there's no going back now. And that's terrifies me."

"Stinks," Logan says gently, "you didn't hate him. You were hurt because of how everything went down with the seat, and you projected that onto him. I get being scared. This sport… it complicates things. But I've seen how he looks at you and how you look at him. It's okay to have feelings for him."

"How do you always know what to say?" you look up at him.

"Because I'm your best friend," he squeezes your shoulder. "Now go get your man. And please kiss him at midnight so I can win the bet with Alex."

"You bet on us?!"

"The whole grid did. I have fifty bucks riding on tonight!"

Later, as midnight approaches, you find yourself on the beach with Franco, fairy lights and stars twinkling above. Your conversation with Logan keeps playing in your mind, making you fidgety.

"You okay?" Franco asks softly, touching your arm.

"FIVE MINUTES!" someone shouts from the house.

"I have feelings for you," you blurt out. "Like, real feelings. And I know it's fast and complicated and I was horrible to you at first because I was hurt about the seat thing but then you were so nice and understanding and you brought me coffee after bad practice sessions and you defended me to the press and you make me laugh even when I'm trying to be mad and your accent gets thicker when you're tired which is unfairly adorable and-"

"THREE MINUTES!"

"-and sometimes I catch you looking at me in debriefs and it makes me forget what I'm saying and Oscar keeps making these knowing faces at us and I pretend to be annoyed but actually I kind of like it and-"

"SIXTY SECONDS!"

"-and I know this could complicate everything but I can't stop thinking about you and the way you smile when you see me in the morning and how you remember how I like my coffee and-"

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

"-and maybe this is crazy but I really really like you and I know we should probably talk about what this means for next season but-"

"FOUR! THREE!"

"-and I just needed you to know-"

"TWO! ONE!"

Franco cuts off your rambling with a kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other pulls you closer. You melt into him as fireworks explode overhead, your heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the celebration around you.

When he pulls back, he's wearing that soft smile that always makes your stomach flip. "You're so cute when you rant."

"I don't rant," you protest weakly.

"Mi amor, you just spent ten minutes listing all the things you like about me, including my accent."

"Shut up."

He laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I want to be with you, YN. Officially, properly, no more undefined territory. I want everyone to know that you're mine and I'm yours. I want morning coffees and post-race celebrations and quiet moments like this. I want all of it, with you."

"Yeah?" you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

"Yeah," he confirms, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "I'm crazy about you, in case my terrible attempts at flirting haven't made that obvious."

"Your flirting isn't terrible."

He kisses you again, laughing against your lips. "So… is that a yes?"

You pretend to think about it. "I don't know, Logan's friend is looking pretty good tonight…"

"Terrible," he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I like everything about you."

Your heart skips. "Everything?"

"Everything," he confirms. "Even your terrible taste in coffee."

You laugh, bright and happy, before pulling him down for another kiss. Around you, the party continues, music and waves and distant fireworks creating a perfect backdrop to this moment. When you finally break apart, you're both breathless and smiling.

"Happy New Year," you murmur.

"The happiest," he agrees, and as he leans in again, you think that maybe some feelings are worth being scared of, especially when they lead to moments like this.

Plus, you just won Logan a bet. Not that you'll tell him that.

1K notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 1 month ago

Text

NEED TO KNOW

18+ / mdi

summary: with jungkook's lifelong crush also came an aversion to dating anyone who wasn't you. but what would happen when the poor lovesick boy came crying into your arms after finally giving a chance to what turned to be a disastrous date?

content: virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk, college au, jk is insanely socially awkward and shy, kook is touch starved, afab reader, smut, dry humping, body worship, reader's lowkey possessive over jk (and vice versa tbh), oral (f and m receiving), handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 10k

a/n: loser virgin koo but light on the loser and heavy on the virgin

masterlist | patreon

Jungkook often found himself feeling like his life was one of those very shitty romcoms.

Except he had never really felt like the heartthrob, or even like he was the one getting swept off his feet.

No, his experience was more closely aligned with the loser virgin who was tossed aside so the star-crossed lovers could find their way to each other. This was just how it had always been.

Jungkook had watched most of his friends find love with a person he could easily consider their soulmate. He was a romantic at heart, after all. These things were not difficult for him to spot.

He often wondered when his turn would come, except it just never did.

Being one for romance was seemingly not for the weak, as Jungkook found himself passing yet another year as a lovesick fool hoping to find that perfect someone to finally look his way.

Scratch that. Many people looked his way. Even as a self-proclaimed loser, Jungkook received plenty of attention from boys and girls alike. Looks were often thrown his way, but they were never the looks he wanted to receive.

Sure, he could easily reciprocate the appreciation he received for his looks. He could smile back, maybe even ask for their number and then see where it all led afterwards.

Except that Jungkook needed the romance. He needed to be swept off his feet (or maybe the reverse, it depended on his mood). Jungkook needed a soulmate.

It all just became eternally more complicated when Jungkook insisted on having that person be you.

That and the fact that Jungkook was slightly, how to put it, socially inept. He was shy, anxious, unable to read social cues, and basically just an overall mess. But the worst of all was his undying crush on you, this he knew.

It was a tale as old as time. Falling for your best friend, pining after them for years, hoping one day they'd turn around and realize you'd been here all along. And now on year nine of knowing you, it still hadn't happened. Jungkook remained a sad, lonely virgin awaiting for you to grant his romcom wish and make him into the love interest.

It didn't really help how painfully socially awkward Jungkook was. Truly, he was surprised you'd stuck by his side for this long despite that. There was no way Jungkook would ever want to risk ruining your current relationship in favor of something he knew would never work out. You did not like him back, these past nine years made him very well aware of that.

And so, as a result, his friends had the grand idea of setting him up.

Not once, not twice, but countless times.

However, Jungkook being Jungkook, never agreed to it. Not once had his friends been able to reel him out of his dorm long enough to entrap him into a date.

Jungkook simply saw no point in it. Blind dates were the complete antithesis of Jungkook's beliefs about romance. He needed a connection before even considering entering a romantic relationship. The thought of going on a date with someone he'd never met before unnerved him to no end.

Plus, he was convinced no one would ever actually like him past his looks. There had been far too many instances of him being on the receiving end of insults to his personality or not-so-subtle stink eyes thrown his way. To have that happen to him whilst on a blind date was just a huge no.

Jungkook found himself stuck in an endless limbo. A loveless, endless limbo as he pined after the one person he could never have.

"You're going. No isn't an option here," deadpanned Namjoon, hitting Jungkook lightly to the back of his head with a rolled up magazine — almost as if he were a puppy receiving a scolding.

Well, that's pretty much how Jungkook had been feeling these days.

For the past week or so, Jungkook had been down in the dumps (even more than usual), making his unrequited crush everyone else's problem through his constant sighs and unsolvable complaints. You truly were the only person in Jungkook's life who didn't fall victim to his lovesickness — for obvious reasons.

There was a very reasonable cause for Jungkook's souring mood, though.

You were seeing someone.

Maybe.

At least that's the impression Jimin had given Jungkook when he mentioned some guy you'd been texting lately.

Jungkook had no further evidence, but the mere thought was enough for his heart to begin cracking.

He always knew this was a one sided love, but the confirmation was entirely too hurtful for Jungkook to take. Apart from that, the thought of you not telling him also added to the hurt.

This only caused Jungkook's lovesickness to worsen, making him become a leech at his other friends' sides as he allowed himself to rot. Maybe it sounded dramatic, but Jungkook felt the situation was drastic enough to justify his reaction.

It was unfortunate that Jungkook's friends cared so much for him. Had they simply allowed him to rot in his own self-inflicted misery, he wouldn't have found himself at the receiving end of Kim Namjoon's wrath as he scolded at him to go on the date he'd set up for him with his lab partner.

To be fair, his friends had offered him many options. They'd tried to get Jungkook out of his shell and wingman him in order to find a girl for himself. They'd attempted to get him to confess to you. Hell, they even putting Jungkook on dating apps where he had full control of who, when, and how he met a partner. But Jungkook rejected every option.

This was not good enough for Kim Namjoon.

After having dealt with a heartsick Jungkook for far too long, he gave him an ultimatum. Either he confessed to you, or he'd have to at least attempt a date with a nice girl of Joon's choosing.

So, it seemed like Jungkook was going on a date.

"Sora's going to hate me. I make a terrible date. Last time I went on a date, I panicked when my date tried to kiss me and closed the door on her face. I'm pretty sure I slammed it her nose," Jungkook whined as he rubbed at the back of his head.

"Jungkook, believe it or not, girls do like you. Sora asked me to set you guys up. C'mon, just try it out. This could be that romcom romance you're always talking about."

"Doubt it," he murmured sadly, "But fine. I guess I have nothing to lose."

Namjoon clapped his hands gladly, proceeding to pat Jungkook's back in encouragement, "Good! It'll go great, Jungkook, don't worry."

"I- I don't even know what to wear or what to say, I-" Jungkook found himself begin to panic, "What if-"

"Jungkook," Joon interrupted, "You're overthinking this. Sora's a nice girl. She's been asking me about you since you stopped by my bio class that one time. She's probably excited about this, there's nothing for you to worry about," he reassured.

Still, Jungkook remained overly anxious about it. Also, how was he supposed to explain this to you? He didn't want you to think that he, that he was interested in pursuing other girls. It was a dumb thought to have, but he couldn't help it. What if the feelings were somehow, by some act of god, reciprocated and Jungkook was ruining it by going on a date with someone else? It wasn't like he could possibly hide this from you. You were best friends, for god's sakes!

But one more look to Joon's annoyed expression told Jungkook that he could under no circumstance call this off.

And so he was going on a date.

When the day of the date arrived, Jungkook was even more nervous than he had imagined.

He had no one to ask for advice, no one to confide in so that his nerves didn't go overboard and drove him to insanity.

Okay, he could've easily asked one of his closest friends like maybe Jimin? Or perhaps Taehyung? Maybe even Mingyu. They were all very successful with dating, whether that be casually or long-term. Jungkook was really the only outlier in his friend group to fail miserably at the dating aspect of life.

And every other social aspect, really.

Unfortunately, there was only one person that could provide Jungkook with the comfort and reassurance he needed right now. And that was you.

You, however, were the one person Jungkook could simply never tell about this.

Regardless of the endless times he'd convinced himself that you did not care for him in any way other than platonic, the fear of somehow disappointing you by going on a date with someone else completely prevented him from even considering telling you. It was stupid and delusional, but, well, so was Jungkook.

The very (extremely) small thought that maybe you liked him back continued to bug him even as he got dressed for his date. He'd subconsciously dressed in an outfit he knew you liked on him and had even done his hair the way that usually had you running your fingers through it. In his head, there was a battle between pleasing you despite your absence from this date, and feeling immense guilt over it.

Somehow, Jungkook managed to push those thoughts aside, choosing to try and calm himself down as he waited for the time to arrive.

He attempted to implant happy thoughts into his mind. The possibility of this date going well was one among them. What if Sora was a perfect match for him? What if this was what he should've done years ago instead of closing himself off to relationships due to his hopeless crush? Who knows, maybe he'd fall in love and become a former virgin within a few months.

But then life decided to catch him off guard again with a sudden knock on his door.

He knew in his heart who it could be, but he senselessly hoped it was anyone but you, knowing he'd panic with your sudden presence.

Walking over to check the peephole, he was met with a sight he usually enjoyed seeing — you, smiling in the direction of the peephole, knowing he was watching on the other side of the door.

Hesitating a bit, he opened the door, attempting to decrease the acceleration of his heart. Was there any way he could lie to you about his plans and get you out of here within less than ten minutes? According to his phone, it was 6:32, which meant he needed to get his ass out of his apartment in the next fifteen minutes if he wanted to make it on time for the reservation Sora had made for 7.

This might've been the downside to telling you you could come over unannounced at any time. Usually, Jungkook was either at home or with you, so this arrangement had not caused any issues until now.

Upon opening the door, he was immediately caught in a simple, yet sweet hug — you were a huge hugger, a blessing and a curse to poor, touch-starved Jungkook.

You entered the apartment as soon as you pulled away, making your way inside as if you owned the place (which, you kinda did, considering how often you were here). It took you a few seconds to register Jungkook's dressed-up appearance and inevitably comment on it, interrupting your usual greeting to him.

"Oh? You're all dressed up. I love that shirt on you," you fixed at his collar as you said so, "Do you have plans today? You look really handsome."

Well, Jungkook's unofficial goal of impressing you had been accomplished. Too bad you weren't the girl he was going on a date with tonight.

After your question, you'd moved further into Kook's apartment, making your way to his couch with ease only a true best friend would have. You even grabbed at the chips Kook had left on the coffee table earlier, disregarding your surroundings due to the level of comfort you felt at his place.

"Oh, uh, I ... Joon actually set me up on a date tonight," he decided to go with the truth. Jungkook knew that he'd feel better with your encouragement at the end of the day. Maybe that was what he needed in order to calm his nerves. That, and some sort of official confirmation that he had no chance with you. Perhaps that'd be enough to get him to snap out of his delusions.

He felt bad about it as soon as your face dropped. Or maybe he imagined it. It went back to normal immediately after.

"Oh," you paused, "That's- wow. Congrats, Kook. Who's the lucky girl?", you asked as if it meant nothing. As if him going on a date wasn't a life changing event.

Which maybe it wasn't for you. Kook knew you didn't like him like that, but the stupid hope prevailed for some reason. He was driving himself insane with the idiocy behind the thought, but his hopeful nature couldn't help itself.

"Uh, you know, just some girl from Joon's class. Her name's Sora. We're, uh, going to some fancy restaurant tonight."

"Oh, fuck, did I interrupt you? Sorry, Kook. You should've told me," another flash of something made its way to your expression, but it left as fast as it came as you stood from your seat and walked back to him.

"You, uh, you look amazing, Kook. She's going to fall in love with you for sure," you smiled sweetly at him, fixing his collar again in a manner that had him screaming internally.

He didn't want anyone but you falling in love with him, but it's not like he could actually express that to you without putting your friendship at risk. So, he gave you a tight lipped smile and accepted your compliment with a scrunch of his nose.

"Is it time for you to leave? I'll leave you alone. Wouldn't want to interrupt you in case the date goes well," you went to joke, chuckling lightheartedly as you usually did, but Jungkook swore there was something off in your tone. Call it wishful thinking.

"You don't have to leave," he mumbled.

"It's okay, Kookie. Good luck with your date," you went to pick up your bag that you'd put down when you came in before approaching him by the door once more, "Here. For good luck," and a soft kiss was pressed against his cheek.

He stood there dumbly after that. Maybe he mumbled a thank you or a see you later, he wasn't too sure. He was far too distracted by your proximity and touch and then suddenly he was alone again.

Kisses on the cheek weren't exactly a tendency for you. They practically never happened. At least not with Jungkook's aversion to intimate touch. Hugs were usually as far as you two went due to his shy demeanor in that area. Perhaps you were somehow asserting your place in his life? But it was most likely not from a place of possessiveness as Jungkook's dumb mind wished for it to be. You were just genuinely the sweetest girl he'd ever met, and so you kissed him with the best of intentions. Jungkook would just have to keep it in the back of his mind for his date.

... Which was starting quite soon, he realized as he finally rushed to leave.

With one last resigned sigh, he looked at himself in the mirror and finally made his way out, hoping tonight would be the first step to getting over his rom-com wish of being with you.

Jungkook's nerves did not diminish on the drive to the restaurant, much less as he walked in and was led to his reservation. It was a bit of a shock to him to find Sora already sitting there, but perhaps it was a sign that she actually liked him. Sometimes it was difficult for Jungkook to believe anyone could possibly be into him romantically. He knew people found him attractive and had been prepositioned many times in his life, but no one had ever actually shown interest any further than that. Maybe it was how socially awkward he was, or perhaps how insistent he was on chasing after you in particular.

He shook these thoughts out of his mind for the time being, opting to arrive over to his date as quick as possible.

"Hi," he said dumbly as he took a seat across from her.

"Hi, Jungkook," she smiled back.

She did not seem as nervous as Jungkook did. She seemed quite calm actually, which only made Jungkook more anxious. That and the way she'd checked him out as he sat, but he'd put that thought into the back burner for now.

"Uh, sorry if I kept you waiting," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands.

"Don't worry about it. I'd have waited longer if necessary," then she leaned over the table, as close as she could through the distance and whispered, "I've been waiting for a chance with you for a while."

Okay, that was forward. Was that good?

"Oh, uh, well, I, uh, I hope I don't disappoint you, then," he felt himself blush.

She gave him a smile that made him feel as if she was in on some joke he was unaware of, "You won't. Trust me," and that was that.

The waiter came soon after and wrote down their orders, offering them some breadsticks and beverages as they waited. It was pretty calm during that time. Maybe even too calm.

The conversation didn't exactly flow naturally between the two. It was a little static here and there, forcing Jungkook to think of ice breakers for first dates that he'd seen on some Buzzfeed article he'd read back in high school, back when he was first introduced to the idea of dating.

Sora was nice and extremely pretty, but Jungkook did not feel that spark he'd always hoped for. He should've known the moment he walked in. There were no bells playing nor did he feel dizzy at the sight of her. Jungkook knew these were unrealistic measures to find the love of his life, but they had been present when he met you and still remained prevalent in his current feelings for you. With Sora, however? It was as if he was awkwardly making conversation to his science partner after having finished a project — it was just filling the silence.

But Sora looked happy. She continued to smile at him, giggle harder than Jungkook would expect (his humor wasn't really at its peak performance tonight), and would even reach over to grace at his arm every so often. When the food came, she made eyes at him as she ate. It was a pretty sight, but her intentions confused Jungkook. Was she flirting with him?

He felt out of his league in this situation. Like there was some context he didn't have.

And then the other shoe dropped.

Sora began playing footsie with him under the table, interrupting him as he responded to some benign question she'd asked about his major. She hummed in response, tilting her head to the side and biting her lip flirtatiously at him. It unnerved Jungkook, causing him to stutter endlessly at the contact. God, he was so unaccustomed to touch; any kind of touch, really. Sure, you and him hugged from time to time, but he avoided any further touch, knowing he'd make an embarrassment out of himself if you ever did anything similar to what Sora was doing.

You'd never questioned his proclivity against intimate touch. You just respected it, keeping touch to a minimum and letting him take the reins any time you hugged or lounged on the same couch — there was the very rare cuddling, but it never went further than shoulders pressed up against each other.

It's not as if Jungkook was a germophobe or anything of that genre. He was quite fine with pats on the back, handshakes, hell, even tackling when playing sports, but it was the more intimate touches he stayed away from. He just felt entirely out of place, knowing he'd embarrass himself somehow. Thankfully, he'd never been in such a situation until now.

Jungkook didn't want to judge Sora too harshly by how forward she was being. It was nice to be wanted, especially by someone as appealing as Sora. It wasn't her fault that he was a little socially inept when it came to relationships. No, that was entirely on him.

He'd seen countless romance movies and had even watched as all his friends interacted with their significant others. Jungkook knew what was expected in a relationship, yet he just wasn't feeling it with Sora. Any time you touched him, he found himself wanting more but holding back due to how much more he wanted. In this instance, he just felt nervous as to what type of touch would come next from the girl sitting across from him.

Then came the question.

"Wanna get out of here?", she smiled after dessert, the same flirtatious grin on her glossy lips.

Jungkook physically gulped at the implication, but somehow found himself responding.

"O-okay."

Was that enthusiastic enough?

Jungkook had been a gentleman. He'd walked Sora home, held her hand, and pulled her close to him as they swung their hands back and forth. It was nice. Sora was a really nice girl when she wasn't fucking Jungkook with her eyes — was that what she'd been doing? He wasn't exactly sure.

But his question was answered pretty quickly.

Kook had insisted on walking her all the way up to her apartment. She lived off campus and it was after dark, it just seemed like the proper thing to do. Even if the date hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped (through no real fault of Sora's), he wanted to remain polite to her.

Turning to him as they stepped foot in front of her door, Sora's hand went to rub at his arm, thumb feeling at the skin of his bicep in a sensual(?) way. Her eyes deemed slightly hooded and her grin was still present.

She took two steps forward, taking his lack of movement as indication he was okay with her coming closer. Which he was, but he was still anxious about it. Would she kiss him? Should he kiss her?

Her arms wrapped at the back of his neck, the hold causing him to lean down slightly. His balance left him at the sudden proximity, making him naturally wrap his arms around her waist. He kept the touch as feather-light as possible, not wanting to cross any boundary.

That's when she kissed him.

And it wasn't just any kiss. It wasn't like the two or three kisses Jungkook had shared with other girls in the past — no mere peck or short-lived kiss. Sora was very forward with her kiss, making Jungkook yelp in surprise as he tried to follow.

He kept at it only for a few moments before attempting to pull away with shy mutters and excuses, 'wait,' 'shit, i-' and 'maybe we shouldn't' were a few of them, with the last one finally making her fully pull away.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm just not sure I want to ...", he grimaced at himself, feeling like an idiot.

Sora was a pretty girl, clearly into him and seemingly willing to put up with his weird personality. Jungkook was simply being an idiot, thinking that he could go on a date and suddenly be over his years-long crush and-

"What? What do you mean?" she interrupted his thoughts, looking rather peeved off.

"I, uh, I mean that, uh, maybe we should wait? I don't wanna rush things and-"

Just as he pulled out the first excuse he could think of, — What, Jungkook? Were you really thinking of going out with her again or would you just ghost her? — she interrupted him again.

She looked at him with clear annoyance overtaking her features, arms on her hips as she moved her weight from one foot to another. Anyone who saw her could clearly see some sort of frustration in her demeanor.

"Jungkook, what did you think this was?", her tone was incredulous, "What was the point of all this?"

"W-what do you mean?"

She scoffed.

Okay, she didn't look as happy to be there anymore.

"We to some shitty restaurant late at night, I invite you back to my place, we kiss. What did you think I was expecting from all this?" she continued.

Jungkook was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he was too mortified to actually respond.

It was sex, right? Sora had seen this as a hookup rather than a date.

God damn you, Namjoon.

"I- it's not-"

"I thought you were interested. Hell, Joon said you kept asking him about me. That you were into me," she groaned, "I should've known. Everyone knows you're a prude. I've seen you shut down other girls, I just thought maybe I'd be an exception," she continued, confusing Jungkook further.

Fuck, had Joon tried setting him up with Sora? Jungkook knew his heart must've been in the right place, but he had probably misread Sora. They were clearly not compatible.

Jungkook kind of felt like he was going to cry. He felt so embarrassed by the situation. And there was no way he could clarify the white lie Joon had told her. It'd just exasperate her more.

"Do you have nothing to say? Should I just go into my apartment now?"

Jungkook looked at his shoes in remorse, feeling as if he'd actually done something wrong.

Kissing her had been a mistake. He should've stayed as he was, waiting for the perfect girl to come around. Should've trusted his gut despite Joon's insistence.

"I'm sorry. I, I didn't mean to lead you on."

She scoffed again, "Yeah, clearly. You should just go. And tell Joon to never set me up again," and with that, she'd entered her apartment, slamming the door on Jungkook in the process.

Jungkook stood there for a minute or two as he contemplated what had just happened.

Part of him was glad it had stopped where it did, while another part felt like an idiot for not going through with it. Granted, he had not expected such a big reaction to his rejection, but he could've used this opportunity to lose his virginity, maybe force himself to move on from you.

But Jungkook knew that would've been an even more disastrous experience. He didn't want to sleep with anyone just to get it over with. He wanted love. He wanted you.

With his tail between his legs, Jungkook went back home, disappointed at his first attempt at putting himself out there. He also made a mental note to spit in Joon's soup or something.

The way back home had been a mess of emotions.

Jungkook went from embarrassed, to angry, to confused, and ended up settling on mortified. That, and pathetic. That feeling seemed to always be present in Jungkook's mind, but tonight he felt a little more pathetic than usual.

I mean, he had had, by all means, what could be considered a perfect date. He had a girl who clearly wanted to take things further, yet he panicked like an idiot and caused her to blow up at him. At that moment Jungkook couldn't really find it in him to blame Sora for her reaction. He should've realized from Sora's advancements that she'd want more from him and shouldn't've fed into it throughout the night.

He wondered what you'd think of it all.

Would you have found Sora's reaction reasonable? Would you have comforted him after such a mortifying night.

Well, it turned out Jungkook would find out sooner than expected.

Despite your denial to his offer of staying over at his place while he was gone, he still found you sitting on his couch as soon as he entered the threshold of his apartment - you did have a key, after all.

You got up as soon as you saw him come in, clearly having been expecting him. Your demeanor did not seem as casual and laid back as it had a few hours ago. On the contrary, you looked troubled.

But Jungkook was sure he looked equally as troubled, if not more. He felt shock at seeing you there despite having left earlier, but it soon left him due to bigger matters taking over his mind at the moment.

"Kook," you started, putting your weight on your knees as you knelt on the couch.

"Uhm, hi. What- what are you doing here?"

He was hesitant in making his way to his own couch. Your presence was unnerving him for some reason (well, at least a different reason than usual). He could feel something different in the air. Your demeanor wasn't your usual.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, looking down to your lap.

"I don't- I'm not really sure."

That was unlike you.

"I thought you didn't want to stay in case I, uh, I brought Sora back home."

He didn't mean it in an accusatory manner, but perhaps his disheartened demeanor made it sound as such.

"Sorry, I can leave. I- I'll leave," you went to get up, but were swiftly stopped by Jungkook when he walked over to you, closing the distance.

"Don't- Please don't go. I could use the company," he offered you a loop-sided smile, hoping it didn't give away how shitty he was feeling.

You looked up at him now with the closer proximity between you. Jungkook knew you could probably see the glassiness in his eyes due to tonight's events. He hadn't cried on his way home, per say, but he had been pretty damn close to. And you, being you, would probably be able to clock it immediately.

"Are you okay?", you finally asked.

"It was just ... a very shitty day," he chuckled despite himself.

The two of you took a seat on the couch, the tension somehow still loud.

"What happened?"

"Oh, you know. I was kind of dumb to think a girl could possibly like me like that. Joon meant well, but ... it's just not for me, I guess."

He wanted to diminish it. To keep it vague so he wouldn't have to open that can of worms. The can of worms that were his deep-seethed insecurities and his never ending crush.

Turning your body to face him, your eyebrows furrowed in worry, bottom lip sticking out a bit in a subtle pout.

"Jungkook," your voice was serious, "Tell me what happened."

"You first," he rebutted, "Tell me why you're here."

He surprised himself a bit. Usually he had no problem letting you comfort him when he was down in the dumps. But something about your demeanor needed to be addressed first. That small seed of hope in the back of his mind was twinkling at it. Could it be? Had you stayed because-

"I didn't want you to bring her back home," you said after a few moments of silence, voice almost a whisper.

Your eyes were forcefully shut and a breath left you. It was as if it had been a huge weight on your shoulders. Though you didn't seem more relaxed at letting it out. If anything, you appeared even more pent up.

And Jungkook? His body was reacting to such a statement. The implications behind it had his heart racing and his hands clamming up. It'd be a punishment beyond belief if it didn't mean what he thought he meant.

But still, he asked.

"Why?"

"Please don't make me say it."

"I need you to. Please."

Sora was completely out of his mind despite the conversation orbiting around her. All he was thinking about was the pained tone in your voice when you'd said you didn't want her back here with Jungkook.

He felt sickly at the strange satisfaction that brought. Your pain was the last thing Jungkook could ever want, but this was the kind of pain Jungkook could remedy. Only one word from you — or rather, three — and he'd take it all away. He just needed a bit more from you to not risk it all. He needed you to take the risk, however selfish that might've been.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, but never garnered the courage to actually say something. It was rare for you to not speak your mind around Jungkook, and that knowledge only made his heart race more. Wanting to encourage you, he scoot over a bit closer, placing his hand atop your own that was lying on your lap.

A soft smile was his reward for such an action. That and the brushing of your fingers before fully grasping his hand in yours. He loved holding your hand, even if he rarely allowed himself to do so.

"Why didn't you want me to bring her back home?", he asked again.

You sighed, nodding to yourself in what seemed to be self assurance before turning your eyes to his and finally speaking.

"Because I like you. And it would've killed me if you lost your virginity to someone else," you said in one quick breath. Your confidence pretty much left you after that. "I know that makes me a hypocrite, but I- I can't help it. I like you so much it hurts. I was never going to tell you, but I had no idea how much it'd actually affect me if you ever got a girlfriend," you continued, hand squeezing his own every so often, "I thought I'd be ready to see you find someone else and take that as a sign to move on but, fuck, I felt like shit walking out of here this afternoon knowing you were going to see another girl."

By the time you'd finished your confession, your eyes were glassy. They weren't really facing Jungkook's anymore, but he could still tell. His eyes were glassy too.

His heart had stopped within first sentence. He wasn't sure how he was currently sitting up, somehow not having passed out at the initial confession. He also found himself completely mute, unable to react to what was a life changing moment for him.

"Kook?", you called his attention, hand letting go of his own and retracting into yourself, "I kinda need you to say something here," you let out an awkward chuckle, eyes wide and worried in contrast.

"I- I, fuck," he stammered, "I almost slept with Sora tonight," was what he had not planned to say whatsoever, but still somehow found leaving his lips.

"Oh."

Yes. 'Oh.'

"Wait, I didn't mean-"

But you stood up, still refusing to look at him.

"I should go. I'm sorry if I got in the way of your plans."

You tried to push past him, but he towered over you, stubborn in letting you leave but still too panicked to return your sentiment.

He felt like a complete and utter piece of shit.

"Wait, please don't go," he pleaded, hand bracketing around your wrist.

"I think I embarrassed myself enough, Jungkook."

"You didn't! Please, I don't know why I said that. It wasn't true, I- I couldn't go through with it. That's what I meant to say," that seemed to get you to stop fighting him, but your sniffled and glassy eyes remained.

"It's fine, Jungkook. You don't have to try and spare my feelings. I knew it wasn't mutual, I didn't mean anything by it, I-"

That was seemingly what broke the camel's back.

"It is mutual! I'm in love with you!", he interrupted, surprising himself even more than you.

Quiet fell for a few moments, breaths as heavy as the tension of the room.

"What?"

"That's why I could never go on dates. Why I always said no when the guys set me up. Why I shut you off any time you got a boyfriend ... Why I stopped things with Sora before they could go too far."

His admission got you to finally look at him. The look in your eyes was indescribable to Jungkook. He'd never seen it before. There was shock mixed with something else. Perhaps hope? That's more or less what he felt at the moment.

"Are you lying to me?", you asked in a sudden shift of demeanor, now a serious edge to your tone.

"What? N-no! I- I love you. I've been in love with you for years. You can ask any of the guys. It's embarrassing and time-consuming, but it's always been there. I swear it's-"

That's as far as Jungkook got. He'd never be able to recall what other embarrassing detail about his crush he was about to share, but he found himself unable to care as soon as he realized what the source of his interruption was.

This kiss was incomparable — despite having shared a heavy kiss with someone else less than an hour prior.

No, this kiss was full of emotions Jungkook would need a thesaurus to describe. He was completely out of his league (but, really, when was he not?), lips attempting to follow your hungry ones but losing the battle.

The discrepancy in experience between the two of you was entirely too visible in the kiss, but Jungkook wasn't complaining. He was getting the better end of the stick and you didn't seem to find any issue, so he just counted his blessings and continued to kiss you to his heart's desire.

Your tongue sucked at his own, making his eyes roll back. His hands, which were usually shy in touching you, were greedy in grabbing at and squeezing any part of you available to him. The usual shyness was replaced with sheer need.

Usually, he would've been embarrassed by the needy whimpers he kept leaving against your lips, but he was too into it to stop. You'd reward every whimper with a slight pull of his hair, so he saw it as a good sign and allow himself to let loose.

When he was almost out of air, you pulled away, though Jungkook's lips attempted to follow, not wanting a single second of separation from you. He was able to steal two pecks and one lick of lips before you pressed your arms against his chest to stop him.

"I'm in love with you too," you were breathless as you said it, "I just thought it was safer to tell you I liked you to, you know, preserve some of my dignity in case it wasn't mutual," you chuckled.

Jungkook's mind was somewhere in Kansas at the moment, not really paying full attention to your words. Knowing you loved him back was life-changing, but the monkey-brained part of him was itching for more of your touch at the moment.

"Where'd your mind go?", you giggled when you took note of his dazed look.

Your hands went to pull him closer once more, which he accepted immediately by locking his arms around your waist.

"What? I, uh, nothing," he mumbled, eyes not meeting your own.

God, how had he gotten horny over a simple kiss?

You caught on quickly, grinning up at him as you attempted to fish at his eyes, following his head any time he tried to turn away from your view but failing. It was comedic in contrast to how tense things had just been.

"What's wrong, Kookie?", you sing-sang, "Something on your mind?"

He gave you what he was sure was a pathetic, pleading look, "Please don't be mean to me. My brain's barely catching up to what's happening," he whined.

"I get to be mean for you. You almost slept with another girl tonight," you huffed jokingly.

With a wince, he groaned, to which you just giggled, causing him to drop his head into your shoulder.

"That's not fair."

"I think it's pretty fair. Here I was, pining over you and you're out there about to give it away to some random girl," you continued.

His response came in the form of nuzzling into your neck, encouraged by your arms pulling him closer.

"Stop," he whined, "It was so shitty. I hated it."

You pulled him away from the comfort of the crook of your neck (much to his dismay) to look at him once more. Luckily for him, your arms were still on his shoulders, allowing him to retain close proximity to you — he was unsure how he'd ever accept any distance between you from now on.

There was some worry in your eyes. Or at least that's what the furrow in your brows and the slight pout made him think.

"What happened?"

"Oh, uh, it was nothing. She just ... I guess Joon's not that good at matchmaking," he explained, not really finding it worth it to go back to that moment. Not when he had something so much better now, and weirdly enough as a result of his shitty night.

You offered him another pout, reaching up to give him a sweet kiss as an acceptance of him not wanting to give too many details.

"Mmm, wait, not yet," he mumbled when you went to pull away, this time successful in keeping your lips locked.

Despite your giggle in response, you continued kissing him, soon going back to the pace you'd had during your earlier kiss. It soon turned heavy and wet, making Jungkook's mind daze once more.

Jungkook was on a mission, refusing to let the kiss end. Putting his all into the kiss, he allowed you to take his mind away, making him all but literally melt at your touch. Matching sighs left you, the sound mixing with the squelch of your tongues licking and sucking at each other.

Eventually, Jungkook turned around — lips still connected — and let himself be pushed to sit back on the couch, with you straddling his lap as a result. The newfound warmth of your body atop his own made him dizzy with desire. It was a feeling he'd never experienced before, and it was quickly growing addictive.

A high whine was left against your lips when your hands moved onto his hair, pulling at it softly at first and increasing the intensity based on his sounds. He melted under you, knowing he'd be willing to let you do whatever you wanted to him without even having to ask.

Hands explored your body, feeling an innate need to map out every inch and pull you as close to him as possible, almost to the point of molding with one another.

Your lips explored his neck for a bit, occasionally nibbling and licking at the skin. The contrast between the warmth of your breath and the coolness of your tongue had him sighing out in pleasure.

Who would've thought having his neck kissed could feel so orgasmic?

He wasn't sure whether he was happy or frustrated when your lips found his own again. As petulant as it sounded, he wanted your touch everywhere, all at once. His skin was burning, as were his loins — and no contact further than some kissing had been done.

"Mm, Kook-" you failed at interrupting the kiss, trapped into another and another, "Shit, Kook," you tried again, but easily fell back into it, letting Jungkook lick into your mouth, "Wait, baby."

Baby?

Okay, that stopped him.

"What's wrong?", Jungkook was sure he looked completely gone. His eyes were still glued to your lips and his chest heaved with his heavy breath.

"Are you sure you want to keep going with this? I don't want to push you," you asked, breath equally erratic.

He could've laughed at the question.

There was no doubt in his mind that he needed to keep going. His body was already about to explode, and you were asking him if he wanted to stop? He felt let out a silent whine at the mere suggestion of stopping.

He kissed you again, hands gripping your hips and instinctively pulling you closer.

You took this as a hint to crumble his sanity even further by beginning to grind on him, slow yet intensely. It had him hiccuping in pleasure against your lips, sighing out and allowing you access to his open mouth.

"Please- oh, fuck, please," he pleaded for nothing in particular.

"Is this okay?," you asked uselessly.

Jungkook nodded, letting his head fall back to the back of the couch as his hips pathetically humped up along with yours. There was no direct contact, but the mere stimulation had Jungkook's eyes seeing white. It was reminiscent of all those nights he'd grow too frustrated with himself and begin humping at his pillow with you in mind. He'd always been too embarrassed to acknowledge such a deprived act, but at least he could now confirm there were no grounds for comparison.

"It's so good, fuck. Want- want more."

By then, you were humping at each other like deprived animals, gasping and crying out at the contact.

Jungkook was unsure when you'd thrown off your shirt, far too distracted by the feeling of you on top of him, but his ability to think completely left him at that moment. Your hands let go of him, instead grabbing at your breasts and playing with yourself right in front of him.

It was like a wet dream come to life, mocking him by showing him how weak and pathetic he was.

The sight had him let out an embarrassing whimper. His face reflected how pained he felt at the view, so needy and painfully horny for you.

"Y-you're so ... Fuck, please, I need- can I ... ?"

He wasn't sure what sentence he was trying to make, but the ability to feel shame had exited his mind a good while ago. To be frank, Jungkook wasn't even sure what reality he was in at the moment. The only thought occupying his mind was your body testing his resolve in a way that he knew would ruin him.

You nodded, biting your lip to prevent a smile of satisfaction as Jungkook let his head fall in between your breasts, lips immediately mapping out the are through kisses and needy flicks of the tongue. He grew immediately obsessed with the feeling of your skin under his touch. It was soft, supple, just perfect to the touch. The scent of your perfume was even stronger now, and Jungkook knew then that the smell alone could probably condition him into a boner from now on.

His hips became frantic then, almost pushing you off him with their intensity. But you took it, silently leading him with your own movements as you held onto him for support.

He was beginning to lose himself, knowing an orgasm was approaching. The fleeting thought of your own orgasm made its way into his mind, but it was quickly gone when you started to breathe out encouragements for him to cum, claiming you were right there with him, that you needed him to ruin his pants for you.

When it finally took him, his eyes crossed, head thrown back as he babbled nonsense in absolute bliss. His brain was barely able to register when a few moments later, your own orgasm hit you just as hard. His hips never gave up, still softly swaying with yours as his high went down. He could've sworn he lost consciousness for a few second, as he finally became conscious with himself again when you were kissing at his neck again.

"Fuck. I wasn't planning on that happening," you giggled between soft pecks to the already tattered skin.

"Is this real?", he mused after a few moments of silence. His hands even went to squeeze at your hips, making sure you were truly there.

Unfortunately for him, that's when you left his lap, making him whine as he sat up to close your distance.

"That's not even the best of it, pretty boy," were your last words before turning towards his room, smiling at him to follow you.

Jungkook, being Jungkook, did not think twice before getting up and following you without further instruction, even tripping in the process.

Within just a few minutes of being in his room, you were down to your panties and him to his boxers. As mandated by nature, you were sitting on him again, holding him down by pinning his arms above his head as you made out with him as nasty as you'd done in his living room.

Jungkook had no complaints. If you wanted him tied up and to your mercy, he'd go as far as to beg for the opportunity. His mind was not his own anymore, and neither was his body. As far as he was concerned, he belonged to you — a totally reasonable thought to have.

To be fair, it was quite hard for him to think while the girl of his dreams was lying on top of him with her tongue in his mouth. Not that he was complaining, not at all.

Surprisingly to Jungkook, his hands took free rein of your body. They went from your hair to your back to your ass to your waist and back to your hair. A whole tour of your body was had before Jungkook decided to take a leap and sneak one of his hands between your bodies and take a route south.

Jungkook was inexperienced. That was an unfortunate fact of his life. But despite popular belief, Jungkook was not an idiot. He liked to believe that he was more knowledgeable than the average guy ... maybe. He had tried to overcompensate early during college by taking a female sexuality course and diving into the depths of reddit in order to understand the things he hadn't been able to experience first hand.

That being said, you still had to silently nudge his hand a little higher in the midst of making out, leading him to your clit before gasping into his mouth at the sensation.

His bruised ego got re-inflated quickly after, with your following reactions to his corrected movements going straight to his dick. Your hips canted against his fingers, following their movements in a desperate attempt at increasing the stimulation. Jungkook's head felt heavy at the constant sighs you'd release against his lips.

"Does ... does it feel good?", he still felt the need to ask.

You hummed into his lips in response, tightening around his fingers at the sound of his voice.

Fuck, did you like his voice?

This was something he'd need to save for future use.

Before he could continue to speak, you regrettably removed his fingers from inside you, earning a whine and a furrowed eyebrow from him.

"As much as I want you to finger me, I'd rather defile you," you said with all seriousness, giggling when Jungkook's reaction didn't go further than wide eyes.

"It's okay, baby. I'll make it good for you, I promise," your hand laid on his cheek, caressing it in a gentle manner, creating a huge contrast with your soaked panties sitting right on top of his stained boxers. That was just something he had to ignore in order to not burst spontaneously.

"That's not really what I'm worried about," he avoided eye contact, though his hands remained on you.

"Then what's wrong, Kookie?"

"What if ... what if it's not good for you. I, uh, I know you've done it with a few guys before — N-not judging or anything! Just, I- I don't want to disappoint you or, uhm, embarrass myself," he mumbled some parts lower than others, a little embarrassed by his insecurities on top of it all.

"Koo," you pouted at him, tilting his chin towards you — something that otherwise would've had him reeling — "I've already had way more fun with you than with anyone else. You know why?", you gave him that comforting smile he loved, "Because I like you, and I know you like me just as much. And I know you'll do everything in your power to make this good for me cause you're just ... you're such a good guy. This is just about making each other feel good. Okay? No need to worry about making me feel good, I promise I already am," you punctuated your statement with a kiss to his nose, giggling when he scrunched it.

"Yeah, I, uh, yeah, okay."

He suddenly found himself blushing, having undermined your proximity, or, you know, the fact that you were naked and on top of him, coaxing him into sex that he very much wanted to have with you.

Before you could say anything else, a fiery part of him took over, pulling you into him for a steamy kiss, wanting to express all his word-vomit through actions rather than stumbled words. There was no better way for him to show you how he felt about you, how good he wanted to make you feel. His words would often fail him, so he opted to show you through his actions.

Mid kiss, you got up from his lap, though Jungkook did not allow for the kiss to end, opting to lean upwards and sit up so he could keep himself connected to you. It was awkward, having you lean down as you blindly removed your panties, but it felt necessary to Jungkook. Within seconds you were already back on his lap, clawing at his own boxers to try and remove them while still sitting. It was awkward and difficult, but the job was eventually done, leaving the two of you nude as Jungkook attempted not to hump into you like a needy animal.

"I- I want- God, I want to fuck you so bad," he mumbled in a daze.

"Fuck, you have no idea, Kookie."

You sounded equally as wrecked, already one orgasm in and completely drenched above him. It made Jungkook feel powerful and wanted. He'd never felt desired like this before. It was making him lose his mind. Every passing second without being inside you made him more and more antsy.

Then you finally lifted yourself up, this time prying Jungkook's hands away from your hips so you could lean towards his end table where he knew you'd find condoms.

That shocked Jungkook, making him look at you with wide eyes.

"How-

"I know the guys have been trying to get you laid for ages. Jimin told me he got you some condoms," you chuckled at his shock as you nonchalantly ripped the packet open with your mouth, — fuck, why was that so hot? — taking your position on his crotch once more in order to insert it.

He whimpered at the sight, too turned on to feel embarrassed over it as he ushered for you to hurry up. More tiny sounds of desperation continued to leave him as you actually slipped on the condom and lifted yourself up. The buildup drove him insane with desire. Every second felt elongated, but when the moment to finally lower yourself on him came, Jungkook swore he left this dimension.

He'd read about what it was like. Hell, he'd watched endless porn depicting what were meant to represent virgins (but he was aware were just actors), hoping to understand what the feeling of finally being enveloped by an actual pussy would feel like. But it was safe to say none of it came close to reality.

He was unsure of what he must've looked like to you at that moment, but he truly felt himself completely ruined. His mouth was agape while his eyes closed shut, eyebrows lifting so high up they were likely at his hairline. Fingers dug into your skin, careless of any bruises they could leave behind (he made a mental note of asking if he could kiss them better later, but it was buried under every other feeling at the moment). His toes curled and his body hair rose in goosebumps. Every other part of himself went unaccounted for, as pleasure took over his ability to process anything else.

It was the safest feeling possible. He knew it was an odd way to describe it, but he truly felt like he was made to be inside you. Like he was fitting a part of the puzzle he'd been looking for forever.

On top of that was the immense pleasure, of course. The incoherent pleas and whimpers leaving his lips were a testament of it.

He begged and pleaded and cried and whined and made every embarrassing sound known to man as you started to move. You'd given him a few moments to get used to it, asking if you could move (you only received a gasp and a pathetic nod as a response) before you began a pace so torturously good that it had Jungkook reconsidering his religion.

"S'so good ... fuck. Oh, god, fuck, it's so- ah! shit, f-fuck me," he babbled, literally drooling at the feeling.

He was so yours in this moment, it was ridiculous. Jungkook had always claimed himself as yours (and had even subconsciously saved himself for you), but this feeling simply solidified it. There was no reality in which he wasn't made for you. Made to receive and give all the pleasure from and to you.

At first, his brain could not even process the view above him, and he was glad for it. Because as soon as he could, he was a gone man.

You mirrored his reaction to a certain extent, gasping and furrowing your brows any time his dick would hit a specific part of you that gave you that extra hit of pleasure. Your back was arched and your pelvis glued to his own. The view was something Jungkook could never forget.

"Feel so good, Kookie, fuck ... How could you be worried when it's so fucking good ..." you sighed.

You rambled praise for him, aiding tenfold to the indescribable feeling of being with you in such a bare form. Jungkook was sure his orgasm was pathetically close, but he could not bring himself to even think of it. Not when his undoing was so unimaginably euphoric.

He had no way of warning you, instead writhing and gasping under you. It was an out of body experience, taking him to a place so high he wasn't sure he would ever come back down.

And then everything went dark.

He wasn't sure how long he was unconscious for, but by the time the convulsions ended and his heart rate went back down, you were already lying down next to him. Cuddled up next to him, your fingers ran up and down his chest in a softness he'd never experienced, accompanied by the occasional peck left against his skin.

"Love you," he mumbled when his words finally found him.

"You scared me!," you sat up a bit to face him better, "Are you back with me now? Did my pussy break you?"

You were joking, but Jungkook was almost entirely sure that was what had happened.

"How long was I out for?", he turned to face you, arm wrapping around you to pull you closer.

"Just a few minutes. Was that too intense?"

"Hah, no, just ... yeah. I've never felt something like that before."

"Well, now you get to feel it any time you want," you grinned at him with a peck to his lips.

"Hmm, yeah," he mumbled happily before a thought snapped him out of his post-coital daze, "Wait, fuck, did you cum?"

"Yeah. I was almost there, Kookie, don't worry. Just had to work myself a bit more after you passed out. No biggie," you reassured him.

Before he could protest, you shushed him with your hand hovering over his mouth.

"Don't whine about it. I literally came in my pants because of you. Consider that a win."

And that was that.

Jungkook decided to let it go and instead cuddle you to sleep, completely disregarding the rollercoaster this night had been. Nothing else really seemed to matter while he held you in his arms anyways. Especially due to the warmth of your bare skin against his own, just like he'd always wanted.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: jk and reader being annoying and in their honeymoon phase, smut, afab reader, grinding, kissing, oral (m receiving), overstimulation, etc.

wc: 451 (teaser); 1842 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"God, man, I heard about Sora. I'm so sorry," Joon began, "I didn't think she'd be so mean to you. She hounded me in the hallway just an hour ago about lying to her and setting her up with a loser — sorry, her words."

This caused you to groan in annoyance, cuddling further into Jungkook at the mention of the faceless girl you'd never met but had grown to hate.

Jungkook had let you in on all the details on what had happened upon further insistence from you. It was safe to say that he had to talk you down from jumping her in the hallway (he knew you'd never actually do such a thing, but the thought counted regardless).

"Ew, don't bring her up. Jungkook's never looked in another woman's direction ever. Right, Kookie?"

It was a little inside joke between you. After having defiled him, you'd developed some healthy possessiveness over him. He was over the moon about it, always playing into it.

Joon simply chuckled, rolling his eyes at both the joke and the sight of the two of you practically cuddled up on a bench in the middle of the quad. No sense or shame for being that annoying couple, nor any care for your other friends sitting across from you, already put off by you.

"It's true," Jungkook nodded, "And that shitty date ended up working in my favor in the end, so if anything, I should be thanking you," he added.

"Finally getting you to shut up about Y/N is payment enough," he walked over to the bench you'd been sitting at, with Taehyung and Jimin sitting to the other side of it.The two had quickly learned to disregard the two of you and your lovesickness for each other, "Now get off each other. No one needs to see you sitting on Jungkook's lap at 11:30 in the morning."

"We already tried. They literally kicked me off that side of the bench so she could lay on him," grumbled Jimin before giving his attention back to Taehyung.

You got up then, nose scrunching at Kook's whine at the sudden disconnect between you, "It's fine. We were just leaving anyway," you held out your hand for him to get up.

"Let me know when the honeymoon phase is over," jested Joon as he took the seat you'd emptied.

Already on your way to leave, you turned back with a smile, "You're just jealous that me and my boyfriend are in love!", Jungkook giggled at your loudness.

"Where are we going?", he asked as he followed you mindlessly.

"To get some privacy, baby. They don't tolerate real lovers here," you joked in a mockingly serious tone.

...

find the continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fanfction #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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i90o3 · 2 months ago

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hi!! i was wondering if i could request a little scenario/fic with mr crawling and just… pampering him? cuddles? maybe set after the ending where you take him home :3 i can’t explain how but he gives me major cuteness aggression…

Pampering.

context: post blissful love ending. You take care of him <3

Homicipher. mr crawling x reader. | Anypov. Fluff.

He also gives me cuteness aggression, like sometimes I just wanna squeeze him until he pops. HES SO CUTE!!!!!!! even if I kind of slandered him in this post..

requests r open !! (read rules)

Few things you noticed about Mr. Crawling..he’s all bloody, dirty, and he SMELLS.

You couldn’t have him stinking up your house with his nasty odor, and you honestly smelt bad too since you haven’t showered..so, what’s better than a self care day? Take care and pamper your ..boyfriend? (I don’t think he understands labels..)

It was a little..complicated? first getting him out of his clothes. He was confused as to why you were taking off his clothes.. but I think after you running the bath and getting out of your own clothes he joins you.

He looovveesss the feeling of you washing his hair and massaging his scalp, literally in bliss. Your hands just feel so good! (pause-) Honestly even your hands scrubbing his body feels good—lathering him up with soap and giving him all the attention! Along with some head pats and kisses, of course. You even guide your hands and let him wash your hair and body, even if he’s a little clumsy.

After getting out of the bath and drying yourselves off, (he has to stay in his towel because you gotta wash his NASTY ASS clothes), you sit him in front of your vanity and start applying all sorts of face masks and stuff to his face, letting it sit while you brush (detangle..) his hair. Both him and his clothes are all clean! and he just smells and looks so much better. Although you really weren’t sure what to do about his eyes (or lack of therefore..), but he didn’t seem to want to wear a blind fold like Mr. Silvair..so you just let his hair cover it.

(now he’s allowed in your bed because he’s not STANK)

And for the best part of self care day, is spending the rest of the night cuddling in bed, your arms wrapped around him as he lays on your chest, your hands patting his head and kissing his face until you fall asleep, watching over you and admiring your sleeping features. His fingers will occasionally brush against your cheek or your collarbone, featherlight, not enough to wake you up. And he’ll even take your wrist and make your hand pat him on the head while you’re busy sleeping. He’s a little lonely while you sleep, but give him plenty of cuddles in the morning and he’ll be okay!!

9:23 pm. 11/03/2024. @i90o3

#*i90o3}#homicipher #homicipher fanfiction #mr crawling #mr crawling x reader #horror #horror games #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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ugh-yoongi · 2 months ago

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hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

#seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seungcheol imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #scoups fanfic #jewel writes #fic: wntt

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inkedells · 3 months ago

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cowboy!logan teasing his girl when he figures out she likes him sweaty and messy from work...

[god him in this gif has me scratching the walls]

pairing: cowboy!logan x f!reader

wc: 587

Cowboy!Logan coming home to you after a long day of herding cattle.

His face is shining with sweat, his scent deliciously musky. Not far off from how he looks when he’s just orgasmed, you think, despite your best efforts not to let your mind go there. Dark denim stained with mud at the hem, his boots in a similar state. Plaid button-up tucked into a fat belt, the sleeves rolled up his thick, veiny forearms.

Yeah, you’re gonna make sure he fucks you. As soon as possible.

“Missed you, baby,” He says with the softest barely-there smile. He slides off his dirty boots by the entryway, mumbling an apology for the mess he’s causing. “And I’ll clean that up soon as I’m outta the shower.” It’s said with a grin and raised hands, as if he’s expecting you to scold him.

But you’re too busy staring at his arms.

“Something wrong?” He asks, his smile falling as he walks toward you.

“Don’t shower,” You say simply, quietly. You meet his eyes and watch his confusion transform into understanding—No, smug understanding. There’s a lump in your throat now, but you swallow it down quickly and stand up straighter. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

He’s smirking, even as he speaks. “‘Cause I’m dirty. And I stink. Don’t wanna ruin that pretty dress.” He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your body in the thin, sheer fabric. Of course, you go red in the face at his words and his scrutinizing eye, and of course, he takes it as his cue to crowd you until you’re backed up against the kitchen counter.

“But…” He starts, placing a calloused hand flat on the expanse of skin just above the swell of your breast. “You,” He pushes his fingers under your strap, “Don’t,” slides it off your shoulder, “Care.” He rushes to give your bare breast a long, firm squeeze, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you when he does. But then he pauses his actions to whisper teasingly, "Do you?"

You shake your head immediately, and he starts back up again. He plays with you, slow and methodical and loving, yet perfectly aggressive. Like a man.

While you watch his hand, hypnotized, Logan is intently observing your face and subconsciously mimicking your expressions. When your eyebrows knit, so do his. When your mouth falls open, so does his. And when you’ve only just begun to lean in for a kiss, he’s leaning in the rest of the way, capturing your mouth with searing hunger as he moves his lips against you expertly.

He’ll carry you into your shared bedroom eventually. Make sweet love to you until the clouds shielding the moon settle into a low fog in preparation for the morning dew. Until you’re just as sweaty as he is, until the only words coming out of your mouth are "I love you," and, "Don’t stop," and, "Faster."

And it’s that last command which consumes him as he kneels between your legs right here, right now, stroking you over your underwear while he fantasizes about fingering you open. He'll take his time with it, do it properly, so he can fuck you as deep and hard as he wants to much later—after your greedy pussy is inevitably tired of the decorum involved with simply making love for hours. You’ll want to fuck, dirty and messy and rough, and he’ll wonder how such a sweet girl could get so drunk on cock. He would bother spitting the question at you between sharp, relentless thrusts, if he didn't already know the answer. Only for you, Logan.

a/n: my requests are open! gimme all ur ideas <3 also reblog to support ur fav authors!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #cowboy!logan #cowboy!logan x reader #cowboy!logan smut #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman #old man logan x reader #old man logan

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 7 months ago

Text

eddie, about to make it big with Corroded Coffin, intercepts an email from one Robin Buckley, a sign language interpreter in training who insists there be an interpreter at their next show, one that her best friend in the whole world won tickets to and is bringing his little brother along since he's such a huge fan.

Steve's hoh already and his hearing's only getting worse. he'd never make a stink about it but Robin is, says even though cc isn't his cup of tea normally, that she wants him to feel included.

eddie agrees, but only if robin is the interpreter that night

color eddie surprised at how hot this steve is, the only guy at the barricade (maybe the only guy in the whole arena) that's wearing noise canceling headphones. those big chunky ones that they give out at the gun range, or that people who work with heavy equipment wear.

he finds himself drifting closer to where steve is smiling up at robin on the stage as she signs their lyrics, jumping with the music and air-guitaring like her life depends on it every time some of them has a solo.

Steve's head bobs along with what Eddie belatedly realizes must be the bass he can feel coming off the speakers, and every time he skirts by, Steve's attention is pulled away from his best friend and onto every part of eddie he can get his eyes on.

during the last song, when the spotlight follows him to the edge of the stage and illuminates the crowd in front of him, he can see the blush on Steve's face when eddie throws him a wink.

eddie makes sure steve and dustin are allowed backstage when the proverbial curtain falls.

#is this anything #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #deaf/hoh steve my love

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cryptfile · 6 months ago

Text

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ holy terrain!!!!!!, [ homelander x supe!reader ]

SUMMARY— based on a request aka when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy John’s comfort after feeling so numb.

WARNINGS — +18 minors dni, implied fem! reader, homelander is a warning himself, usual the boys content, mentions of murder, violence, reader matches homelander’s freak ngl, always wash your hands before fingering #PLEASE, blood kink at it's best, degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, porn without plot sort of?? lmao blame it on my hormones.

SIDE NOTES — hi there, this is a result of me going feral in this new season. English's not my first language, so please be kind, any mistake it's my own fault sorry in advance. Hate this mf but wont deny I wouldn't fuck him to calm him down. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me!

The smell is under your nose.

At first it didn’t bother you to feel the warmth of it, you’re not disgusted by blood. But it’s everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Sticking in your face, staining your damn suit, pooling beneath your feet.

You can feel your own breathing, yet, you're numb to everything else. The screams of terror and the sudden silence of the killing are now something similar as a long-time-ago memory, a distant thought you cannot bring yourself to care about.

And when you came out of the elevator, you don't care about the other people looking at you either. The Vought personal that were always running in the floor, Ashley, or fucking Noir at the matter thinking you're Carrie or something, no one dares to talk to you even when you’re a mere sidekick, too afraid of your explosive personality to even demand to know what happened.

It's almost like you asked for it, to be left alone, to not deal with anyone but your own judgment.

So when you cross the hallway to your dormitory dreaming about a warm shower, you don't expect to see him inside, your relationship with Homelander being too sporadic to even catalog it as one. Yet he's there like it's his house, and you're too tired to even ask why he's there in the first place.

"There you are," he says, but you hear his voice like he's talking miles away from you instead of the couch where he really is. "Something was telling me you were having a rough day."

"Don't remember anything about inviting you to my room" he doesn't care about your tone as he walks closer to you, usually, when he speaks, he only seem to listen to himself. "Didn’t give you a key."

He's oblivious at your words, instead, he seems to be too lost in his own way of seeing things, just waiting for you to say something similar to what you’ve already said in his mind. To admit something like you missed him all day long, that you've been thinking about him as much as he's thinking about you, to fed his ego like only you can do after only a few times of sharing intimacy.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe as he plants himself in front of you, blue eyes scanning your face as his fingers touched your hair, toying with the strands glued together with blood — Even if it’s gross, he don’t seemed moved by it, mainly, you think, because he’s been through the same too.

"Don't need a key to show up," he laughs like it's obvious, and you look at him like he's having a rougher time than you. "This is my building."

It's almost a reminder for you, that you're living under his roof and have a place on his team because he just wants to. Even when you always do the dirty job no one dares to do, if you save his ass more times you can count, he still remarks you’re living in his world.

“I know,” you fight the need to roll your eyes to the back of your head while responding. It’s something you remind yourself sometimes, how most of them are just plain stupid, always treating you like you were no better than fucking Deep.

The stink under your nose is annoying and your skin feels sticky at the touch so you’re almost begging for just ten minutes of privacy.

“I just missed you” he says in a low voice, almost ashamed of admitting something he would never even dare to say out loud, a sudden verge of vulnerability, strange raw honesty as he looks at you. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

You know the only way of really control him, how to make him do exactly what you want to do, so you let him. Let him act all needy and weird cause you want John wrapped around your finger, unable to think on his own. You want him to believe, whole-heartedly, that in the end he’s the one coming up with the great ideas when it's you every single time.

You don’t find it cruel, he’s the same with you and he deserves it, so when Homelander bites his middle finger to grab the fabric of his gloves and pull it off, you let him touch you, treat you like this lost-dove-in-trouble he loves to see — “Had an awful day. Just wanted to see you,” like that. The correct combination of words and he looks like he got fucking shot by a celestial force, mesmerized. “Always missing you, babe.”

He’s sold by the moment, that tone you use, that little nickname that gets him, the sound of your heartbeat slightly faster than before, not enough to catch you lying, but enough to show you’re indeed, happy to see him as well.

He's pleased, so the next is unexpected to say the least, and you hate every second of it when he carries you like you two are married or something similar, sitting in the sofa with you on his lap.

“What are you-”

He shushes you, and you cannot finish what you’re saying when he pulls you to his chest, the fabric of his suit against your cheek as he, weirdly enough, hugged you close, the sound of his heartbeat instead, loud against your ear as you can feel him breathing beneath you, an steady rhythm as the silence filled the room. It's weird sometimes, to think he's human as well before the compound V.

“Comforting you,” he says in a low voice. His bare hand now grabbing your tight enough to bury his fingers in the covered skin, squeezing it lightly as first, nothing you cannot control. And it's beyond doubt what he truly wants, the way his nose inhales the scent of your body like it's fuel, the blood mixing with your fragrance — "M' here now."

He likes it almost more than his own smell. Almost is the key, cause he cannot help but wish you'd stink like him after waking up next to him that very same day. The thought wakes something new in the alleged superhero, something that stings in his stomach, plaguing his mind with the thought of getting all that he wants, to mark you as his property as he has done before.

He cannot get enough. Of course he can't, he's used to have it all now, to never ask but take. That's why he bites your shoulder, why he didn't mind getting his hands dirty with you and your sticky suit, why he's not grossed out by anything, but instead, turned on by how much you needed him.

But in reality it's the other way around, cause Homelander's the one that pulls you closer, that kisses you like you're something heavenly, just like he is. He's not gentle, yet he knows you like it that way, that you're into that rough force he's used to and would kill any normal person in result.

"Who let you go on that mission on your own, huh?" He asks, concentrated in your suit, pulling it down slightly just to reveal the naked skin under the fabric, clean skin in contrast of all the red. "Seems like they all forgot we're supposed to work together."

You don't get why it feels so nice at first, why the hand on your hip moves through your body like you need some kind of reassurance after all you went through the day.

"I'm okay" you manage to say, the pure need to remind him you're good enough to make things on your own, some kind of memo that explains clearly that you want the same benefits he has. It's useless however, when he has you like that, making you tilt your head to the side, placing random bites in any sight of exposed flesh.

"You're hurt" he says, making you aware of your own body as he presses one hand against the injury on the side of your ribs. He's fucking sick for it, and it doesn't give you any time to react when his fingertips are pushing against the cut, your suit staining with your own blood as you mewl on top of him. "Clearly hurt."

He's drunk on depravity, lost on the face you make when the pain hits you all sudden, stealing the air from your lungs. He's suddenly hard beneath you and his hand's now rest on your hip making you move on top of him, hungry for anything he can get out of you, any little sound you make so focused on keeping quiet, trying so hard to not to fed on his bullshit.

The friction is unbearable, the fresh blood coming out of your now-opened wound, the slight force he uses to tear your suit apart like its nothing, giving him more space to work with as he seemed desperate to have you close. It takes you far from where you were first, the numb feeling that grew like a parasite your stomach swallowing it all, now instead, too sensitive to his touch.

Yes. You hate him for it, hate that it's too easy for him, the traumatized hero with too many issues, the world's strongest man that somehow manages to make a mess out of you just with something so simple as sitting on his lap.

He's so pleased when you moan, when you say his name and you forgot about mannerisms, he needs to pull out his other glove in response as his blonde hair falls over his face, throwing it to the floor as his bare hand is now able to rip apart your suit effortless. The warmth of his palm cups your now bare breast for him, and he leans into your chest, tongue flickering in circles over your nipple as you let out a strangled moan.

"Common, need you to use your words here," he demands for a moment, almost annoyed as you can see the traces of saliva that connected you to his mouth: Why does he look so good? Fucker. "Cause if you don’t stop me now I’ll reduce your suit to ashes.”

“Don’t care,” you know Ashley’s going to be pissed, yet it's not enough to say anything about it. "Fucking hate the suit anyway."

"Such a dirty mouth" you're tugging his hair, hand on your kneecap pulling it slightly to the side as he forces you to open your legs for him. "What can I do with you?"

There it is, the ripped sound of his hands tearing the rest of the fabric apart, the pliable desperation in his touch, grabbing, kissing, and palming the curves of your body as it's holy terrain, unstudied land. He's caught in the smell of your skin finally mixing with his, the way your hips grinded in need for a deeper contact.

He laughs at you, laughs at that sight of defeat when he finally slides the hand that was on your knee under the ripped leavings of your now-destroyed suit. Of course he fucking loves the way you're speechless all thanks to his efforts, that you're unable to keep still as you straddle him now confident he's not repulsed by your dirty nature.

"Did you get turned on by killing?" He asks, and you try to respond something like he's clearly dumb. "Been smelling you since you've got here. All wet, covered in blood."

He's far from lazering you, but you can feel the weight of his gaze almost trespassing you when his hand finally reaches that nice spot between your legs and feels your drenched underwear beneath his fingertips. He can feel it all, and you are aware of it.

He's driven by the sounds of your heartbeat, the way your skin glimmers with sweat, he knows you're enjoying every second of it, his fingertips fondling on top of the cloth moments before pulling it to side. The warm contact with your cunt is enough to make him lose it, enough to make him succumb beneath you as he explores the folds of your aching core, his other hand holding your hip just to keep you in place.

John seems to forget, always does. Cause his grip turns beyond bruising and you can hear the crack when he moves you against his hand, a new broken bone to added to the list as he's unaware to the sound it produces, the pain that makes you shake violently blending immediately with pleasure.

You can take it. You're tough and a big girl who's taken worse, so you don't whine about it knowing you must be healing already, instead, you let yourself be trapped in that haze he created, the sounds of your sex when he hits that very spot you overly-enjoy, digits slightly curving inside as he’s experiencing the velvety feeling of your walls colliding against his hand.

"That's it, keep the show for me.” He loves praising so much since you told him he’s doing good one time, he needs to do the same for you at the first chance he got while you offered yourself to him, riding his fingers. “Such a good slut.”

He’s concentrated in the way his fingers disappear inside of you, the intense smell of blood and sex that now fills the air as you moan out his name, the red droplets in your face much like freckles, far more wicked than pure marks on your skin.

“So nice, so warm,” he says to himself, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your chest as he marks your skin like you’re all his.

He’s sure he’s alleviating your problems, sure he’s making you feel so much better, thumb tracing circles in your swollen bud as he stole cries of pleasure from your parted lips.

You don’t let him know you’re close but he can sense it, the slight change in your breathing each time more erratic, your heartbeats quickening their pace as you got closer to the edge.

And when you really finish, when you’re done riding your high, you grab the remains of your teared suit and look at him with that damn smile he loves. You know he’s expecting to receive anything back, any favor you’re willing to give in return.

But instead, when you got off his lap, you just caress his cheek gently before saying — “See you later, John? Kind of busy now.”

my masterlist

#homelander x reader #homelander #the boys #homelander x you #homelander x fem!reader #cryptfile // the boys #homelander smut #the boys smut

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nerinefy · 7 months ago

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IMAGINE BOYFRIEND! AVENTURINE...

Boyfriend! Aventurine who makes sure you are well stacked and loaded (in how many ways you can take or think of) before going out for long missions.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who makes sure he gets to have at least one phone call with you each day when he's away because he already can't get enough of you in his arms and not being able to see you might be the only thing that'll kill him.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who sends you multiple messages per hour and updates you with photo evidence when he's out because that's how much he can't stand not being with you.

Boyfriend! Aventurine that immediately buys shit you dare mention even once to him. Say that one top he bought for you looks pretty and he sends you everything the brand of that top has. Entire stock so you won't match with anyone else.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who can go both ways and buy the shit you think is good for him! Compliment a new perfume he got for himself smelling great on him? He will have them on all-year-round.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who does not hesitate to give someone the stink-eye of they ever tried to pull something on him which is quite weird to witness in real time since no matter the mood man's always jolly in front of you.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who loves to tease you every way he can but will be absolutely fuming if someone else teases you too.

Boyfriend! Aventurine that custom made a body pillow with his picture on it so you won't feel alone whenever he's gone. You though it was a pretty odd thought at first but you've slowly grown fond of lil Adventurine. (He also has one of you, guess which picture it is?)

Boyfriend! Aventurine who unironically enjoys and uses the mug Topaz gifted to him as a joke that has "Best Dad Ever!" on it and says he's training for when he recieves one for real in the future. He doesn't know if he will be ready, but he knows that whoever that child is, he'll protect with his life.

Boyfriend! Aventurine that would risk his job and his life just so he can make sure you will be safe and cared for and that you know it.

#꒷₊˚ ꒰ఎ rinnie's works! ໒꒱ ‧˚₊꒷#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai: star rail #honkai sr #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr headcanons #hsr fluff #hsr imagines

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mywritersmind · 3 months ago

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GOOD SIDE - FC43

summary : She hates him, he’s intrigued and doesn’t understand why anyone would distlike him. Franco tries to win Charles’ sister over with coffee and good racing.

listen up : no warnings!! my first franco fic <3

word count : 1067

⋆｡‧˚⋆

All eyes have been on Franco Colapinto for the past three weeks. All eyes including mine.

I watch the boy walk across the pit lane, grinning widely at his team. My arms are crossed in the ferrari garage, Charles is talking my ear off but I'm not even listening.

I miss my paddock best friend. All the boys on the grid are like my brothers, but Logan was genuinely my friend. I didn’t even go to Monza and fucked myself while boycotting because I missed my brother win.

I watch the team embrace the boy. I never realized how young he looks until now. He’s a year older than me, found that out when I was stalking his social media.

Charles noticed my stink eye and nudges me, “He’s a good kid. Don’t be mean!” I know Logan wasn’t performing well. I’m not blind.

But I can’t help but be salty for him.

“I won’t be mean.” I turn to see Alex and Franco walking towards us, I try to walk away but the hoodie for my sweatshirt is grabbed by Charles and I'm yanked backwards.

“Franco, This is my baby sister, Y/n!” Charles swings his arm around me, I roll my eyes and look back at Franco.

He’s cute and as he smiles at me I have a weird feeling that I need to make it stop. I turn to my new favorite william’s boy.

“Alex!” I smile wide and I can see my brother eyeing me already, “Nice Quali! Proud of you.”

He nods, “Appreciate it Y/n.” He glances at Franco, forcing me to say something. I give them what they want and look at him.

“Colapinto, is it?” I blink. “You’ve got an interesting driving style.”

Franco’s smile doesn’t falter. “Interesting enough to earn me P9.” My eyes narrow at him, “Nice to know you were watching me.”

I cross my arms but before I can say more, Charles interrupts me.

He laughs loudly, trying to drown out my voice, “Alright! Don't mind her, Franco, she’s been a little salty recently- well actually she’s always like this.” He shakes his head and leads the men in blue away.

Franco looks back at me as Alex starts talking rapidly, and I swear I’m hallucinating because I think he winks.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m sitting on the pit wall, Susie is talking me through all the little buttons and graphs. Even though I'm Ferrari till I die, Susie is like family and has always been there for me. I feel an unexpected tap on my shoulder which makes me whip around.

I look down to see Franco holding two cups of coffee. “Morning Mrs. Wolff!” He smiles at Susie, then me. I didn’t even know he met her. My eyebrow is already raised, “Mind if I borrow Y/n?”

Susie laughs softly, looking at him then me, “Go ahead.” I get off the chair slowly and he motions for me to take the cup.

“Charles mentioned you liked coffee.” I hesitate for a second, taking the cup. I sip it and mentally groan because I’ve been needing to get some today.

“Buying my affection already, Huh?” I glance at him as we walk down the pit lane. I'm wearing a short, flowy, white dress and a Ferrari cap, happy since it's so hot.

“Don’t be silly, This was free.” I sip my coffee to stop myself from laughing, “I do have to get on your good side somehow.”

I look away from him, “You took my best friend's seat.”

“He lost it.” When I look back at him, he’s already looking at me.

I sigh and keep walking, he catches up quickly, “So… You’re Charles’ Sister.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “You’re sherlock?”

“You’re pretty.”

I let out a dry laugh, “You’re straightforward. I’ve seen three interviews of you flirting and you haven’t even made it to your second race yet.” He laughs and it makes me feel good that I made him do that.

“What can I say? The people love me.” He shrugs and it's my turn to laugh now.

“I’m sure your media crew hates you.”

“I can confirm they definitely do.” He stops when he gets to his garage, “I don’t want you too though.”

I take a breath, “Let’s see how you do in the race and we’ll see.” I hear someone yell his name from inside the garage.

He doesn’t move, “You base all your relationships off of driving results?”

“Relationships?” I scoff as he licks his lips, “Don’t get too cocky now.”

Franco shakes his head, a curl falling into his face, “Not cocky. Just a glass half full type of guy.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I hug Oscar as he walks out of his garage at the end of the day, “You fucking rocked it.” He laughs as I pull back, “Seriously, I'm proud and you beat my brother!”

Charles practically spawns, “We all know your loyalty is not to me.” All the boys have changed and are starting to leave. Carlos disappeared after crashing on the second to last lap but all I can do is smile for Lando who got bumped up to fourth.

Speaking of, Lando joins us with Franco by his side, his mouth running per usual. Everyone starts talking and congratulating Oscar again.

I find Franco by my side, he leans in slightly, “My result good enough for you?”

I look up at the sky, “Pretty good. I hate to say it but… you did well.”

He grins, “Well enough to get your number?”

I look to my brother to make sure he isn’t listening, “You’re playing with fire here, Colapinto.”

“Burn me.” He says it so quick that I almost don’t register the look on his face. He looks at me so genuinely with those hazel eyes and speaks again, “Por Favor? s'il te plaît? Please?”

The ‘Please’s’ makes me laugh. One in Spanish, one in French, and one in English to cover all his bases, “You’re such a flirt.”

“For you.”

“Don’t lie. You flirt with everyone.” I give him a look, he pulls a slow smile.

“If you were mine I'd never look at anyone else again.” Oddly enough, I believe him.

“If I were yours?” I step closer and he nods, “Hm… If I were yours- I think we would see pigs flying.”

He just grins, “I can arrange that.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader

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incognit0slut · 7 months ago

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omg neeeed a spencer fic based off of lunch by billie eilish, i feel like that song definitely suites him 😭

Being cornered in the filing room was the last thing you expected when Spencer asked you out for lunch.

Warnings: (18+) oral (f), semi-public (they’re at work) ~1.6k words

A/n: Ty anon I've been listening to this song nonstop and now I have a reason to use it for munch Spence, ily

“What do you want to eat for lunch?” you asked, striding through the bullpen with Spencer at your side. He had a hand on your lower back, and you couldn't help but wonder why he was being so touchy at work when he was usually the one insisting on professionalism. Not that you were complaining; you’d take any small gesture of his affection.

“How about that new sushi place around the corner?” you suggested, leaning into him slightly. “I could go for a salmon skin roll.”

He remained unusually silent, and as you exited through the glass doors, you frowned when he guided you away from the elevator. “What—” you began, looking up at him as he led you down the hallway. “Where are you taking me?”

His silence was starting to unnerve you. He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before pulling you into the filing room and shutting the door behind you.

“Spencer,” you hissed, eyes darting around the room. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours, pressing you against the door. His hands cupped your face, holding you in place as he kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless. You hadn’t realized just how much his kisses could affect you until you started dating him—each one was deep, passionate, and downright knee-weakening.

When he finally pulled away, you clung to his arms for balance, your mind reeling. “What was that for?”

He grinned mischievously. “I’m hungry.”

You blinked, confused. “So you decided to eat my face?”

He chuckled, leaning in to peck your lips again. "That was just the appetizer." His hands trailed down your body, and when you felt him run his palm down your legs, you knew you were doomed.

"Spence," you warned, trying to give him your best glare but already melting into him as his fingers slid under your skirt. "I thought you wanted to have lunch."

"I do," he agreed, slipping inside the waistband of your panties. "And I am. I want to eat you."

You really needed to talk to him about his oral fixation—not that you minded, because honestly, you loved it when he went down on you. The problem was, he didn't always pick the right time or place.

Like that one time on a date when he begged to taste you, leaving your food cold when you returned from the bathroom, with the waiter giving you the stink eye you could feel the judgment in their gaze. And now he wanted to do it at work, with your friends practically in the next room.

"We can't—" you tried to protest, but your voice faltered as he nibbled on your earlobe.

"Shh," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I’ll be quick."

Before you could respond, his hand slipped further down, and you let out a gasp, clutching at his shoulders. His touch was electrifying, and you found it increasingly difficult to remember why this was a bad idea.

"We're going to get caught," you managed to say, though it lacked conviction.

"We won't," he murmured, and when his fingers brushed your arousal, he laughed softly, spreading your slickness up and down your folds. "You’re already so wet."

He grinned when he felt your hips thrusting and bucking upwards. He knew you were inviting him to give you more. The flat tips of his fingers begin to dip in your entrance teasingly. You wanted him. You needed him. He knew he had you right where he wanted.

"Spencer, please," you whispered, half in protest, half in desperation.

"Please what?" he asked, his voice husky. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?"

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. "Please… just..."

He took that as encouragement, intensifying the pressure and speed of his movements. You clung to him, your knees weakening, your breath hitching in ragged gasps. Just when you felt you couldn't bear it any longer, he knelt before you, deftly sliding your panties down your legs. Any resistance dissolved as he gripped one of your legs, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Lift your skirt up.”

With trembling hands, you gathered the fabric and lifted it, exposing yourself fully to him. His eyes couldn’t help but rest on the sight, taking note of your swollen, aroused lips and how wet you already were. His fingers traced over your slick folds, teasingly brushing against your sensitive skin before lowering his head between your thighs.

The moment his tongue made contact, you were already lost in a haze of pleasure. Your head spun as nerves and excitement merged into a blissful frenzy in your mind. He teased up and down your slit, briefly dipping inside your dripping entrance before returning to focus on your swollen, aching clit.

"You taste amazing," he grunted, his voice thick with desire. His hands encircled your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as his tongue circled and flicked over your sensitive bud. He sucked lightly, causing you to hold your breath, before releasing it in a ragged gasp. Your hips bucked uncontrollably as you ran your hands through his hair, tugging on the strands, eliciting a deep, rough yet eager moan from him.

This was why he loved tasting you so much. He was addicted to your reactions, the way you whimpered and moaned, and the eager groans he made between your trembling thighs. He reveled in the sensation of your juices against his tongue, thrilled by the chance to please you and watch your legs quiver around him. He adored the way your voice strained when you called out his name, and how tightly you gripped the strand of his hair between your fingers.

He loved it all, making it clear as his tongue sped up, circling your clit even faster. Looking up at you, he saw you trembling, your gaze locking onto his wide, shining brown eyes as he continued to pleasure you. Each flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, drew you closer to the edge.

"Please," you cried out, fingers gripping his hair as you moved your hips against his mouth. "I'm so close," you gasped, your focus entirely on him, feeling the pressure of his tongue against your throbbing cunt.

He responded with a low, satisfied hum, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. The tension built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until you were teetering on the brink of release. Your breaths came in shallow pants, your entire body alight with anticipation.

He held onto your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he expertly licked your folds, skillfully massaging your clit with the flat of his tongue. The way he moved, the way he tasted you, it was driving you wild. You could feel yourself spiraling, the tension building inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

With one final, skillful flick of his tongue, he pushed you over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering, your breath catching in your throat. You cried out, a raw, uninhibited sound of pure ecstasy, as the pleasure washed over you in powerful, crashing waves.

Spencer held you through it, his tongue never slowing, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were spent and trembling in his arms. Only then did he finally pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied, almost smug expression.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his hands gently caressing your trembling thighs.

You nodded, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. He rose to his feet, his eyes still locked on yours as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his expression one of satisfaction and tenderness. He pulled you into a warm embrace, his hands gently rubbing your back as you steadied yourself, your legs still trembling slightly from the intensity of your release.

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I can't believe we just did that," you said, your voice still shaky. "We could have gotten caught."

"The thrill of almost getting caught makes it even better, doesn't it?"

You groaned and swatted his chest. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. "Let's get you cleaned up before someone wonders where we are."

Nodding, you straightened your skirt and tried to compose yourself, though the lingering heat between your thighs was a constant reminder of what had just transpired. Spencer handed you your panties with a playful smirk, and you quickly slipped them back on, feeling a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration.

As you both stepped out of the room, the hallway was thankfully empty. He kept a protective arm around your waist as he guided you back towards the bullpen.

"Where did you two go?" JJ asked the moment she saw you. "We just ordered takeout."

Spencer stepped slightly aside from you, but his arm remained reassuringly around your waist. "It's fine, I already had my lunch, anyway," he replied smoothly.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure, and returned to your desk as you ignored JJ’s stare. The slight blush on your face threatened to give you away, and you shot him a discreet but pointed glare.

"Yeah? What did you eat?" JJ asked, her curiosity clearly piqued.

"Oh, just something... incredibly satisfying," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo. “Something I've been craving for a while."

You bit your lip, hoping the warmth in your cheeks wasn't too obvious as you met his eyes briefly, noting the smug look on his face.

You were going to kill him.

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vanillakook · 6 days ago

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DOPAMINE (PT. 1) ꔫ - JJK

synopsis: mingyu’s little sister has a question for jungkook

parings: brothersbestfriend!jk x fem!reader

warnings: dirty talk and explicit language, dom!jk, sneaking around, car sex, oral sex, (f. receiving), tones of corruption, self masturbation, guided masturbation, established crush/unrequited love, sexual tension, slow burn sort of, reader and jk already have a great relationship, touch her you die trope, brothers best friend trope, big!muscley!jungkook obv, might be a series?! im just saying stuff now?!!

“can you make me cum?”

usually when you asked jungkook for a favor it was for a few bucks or when you needed a ride somewhere. so he was trying to make sense of what he was just asked. he blinked. once, then twice, then a third. he blinked until his eyesight finally got back to seeing one of you, and not five. he blinked at you, who just so happened to be his best friends younger sister. kim mingyu’s younger sister.

“what?”

“can you– are you really going to make me repeat it?” your lips pursed and your manicured hands went up to rest on your hips. you lowered your voice before asking again, “i said… can you make me cum.” you said more of as a demand now, making his tip leak a bit. the kitchen you both resided in felt like it was closing in on him.

“i’ll just pretend i didn’t hear that, and you pretend you didn’t say it, cool?” jungkook just shook his head with a laugh. as his footsteps moved back towards the garage where mingyu and the rest of his friends were hanging out, you followed after. as he put his hand on the knob to exit the kitchen, he stood there when your voice began flowing through him again.

“i won’t tell him. promise, it’ll be between us koo.” your voice lowered.

“where is this even coming from?”

your eyes squint. “a girl just asked you to make her cum and that’s what you’re worried about? i need help!” liar. help with what exactly? because he’s heard you. you like to play with yourself in the dead of night when you think everyone’s sleeping. this would actually be the perfect opportunity for jungkook to tell you to keep it down. you should be grateful for your family of heavy sleepers. he hears you plunging your fingers into that sweet pussy, always making the sound fall into a pattern with your staggered moans. he’d be lying to himself if he claimed it wasn’t the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.

but enough of that, you were very off limits.

“no, a girl, actually my best friends little sister, is asking me to make her cum.” he tilted his head in that sarcastic manner that he’s been annoying you with since you were children.

“come on,” you rolled your eyes and popped your leg out. “i already told you i wouldn’t tell him. it’s a favor, you do me favors all the time, what’s wrong with this one?” oh you were serious. his best friends little sister wanted to get fucked by him. jungkook had enough on his plate as is.

“sexual favors?”

“you always tell me you’ll do anything for me, no matter what it is, no questions asked. and now you’re asking questions.”

jungkook couldn’t even hold his laughter until this end of your sentence. he let out a deep and heavy sigh. he wiped his hand over his face, cock strained and heart racing. “why are you asking me this y/n? out of all people?” he should have never asked that question either.

you sulked against the kitchen counter. “i was with this guy last night– what?” jungkook was already giving you the stink eye. just like your brother he was highly protective of you. guys knew not to fuck you over since you had two guys who were ready to step about you. yet whereas mingyu’s protectiveness was more so on the brotherly side, jungkook’s leaned toward a possessive nature. jungkook knew he couldn’t have you due to… circumstances. but that didn’t mean anyone else could.

he shook his thoughts away. “continue.”

“okay… well i’m just so tired of hooking up with people and being let down– i just– i think im broken or something. i can’t cum!” you threw your hands up. “like okay, yes i can make myself cum, but i can’t cum at the hands of someone else. and–and– last night that guy told me i was the problem. you’re mad because you can’t make me cum?” you stopped yourself before you yapped the man’s head off.

“stop fucking guys with trash dick.”

jungkook has been telling you to stop messing around with little boys that don’t do anything for you. you definitely weren’t the problem, and he was going to find the guy who said that bullshit. it wasn’t your fault they didn’t know what they were doing.

“hence why i want you to fuck me.”

“yeah?” he said, slowly, and slightly more raunchy than intended. “and how do you know my dick is good?” even more raunchy than he intended. he matched your stance, leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. the tattoos covering his arm and bicep taunted you, making your panties pool with something hot.

jungkook knew he was a goddamn stud. he had every girl across campus lining up to try it for themselves. including most of your own friends. you sort of hated it, considering people would only get close to you to either fuck jungkook or your brother. most times you already knew why a girl was speaking to you, shit even most guys. you almost made business cards with mingyu and jungkook’s numbers on there just for people to leave you alone. however you weren’t this innocent little thing that jungkook and your brother made you out to be. you knew jungkook could make a girl come, you knew he could fuck. you’ve only ever heard good things. you’d rather hookup with someone who you knew was good rather than a random who you’d have to guess with and end up being wrong. yeah, that’s what it was. someone had to convince you that you weren’t the problem and he was perfect for the job. he knew how to navigate a body, from what you’ve heard.

you gulped. “i’ve just… i’ve heard things. and i’d rather it be you that makes me cum than another random.”

“what did you hear?”

“you’re asking so many questions yet still can’t answer my one and only for you?”

“jeon! get your ass in here!” a muffled voice called through all the laughter. the voice which could be identified as jaehyun’s made you and jungkook’s jump a total of ten feet apart. this conversation alone made him feel guilty although you were doing nothing wrong. you didn’t even realize how close you had been drifting to one another. but if anyone knew what obscene things were coming out of your mouth right now you’d both be screwed, so maybe he was guilty.

“look y/n… you know you can ask me for anything and i’ll give it to you, but this? no. one hundred percent no.” he hated to tell you no. he didn’t want to tell you no, but in this instance he had to deny your wants. it would be cutting it way too close. he didn’t live with you guys, but he was pretty much integrated into the family with how much he was there. your parents saw him as their son. he even saw your family as his own. although jungkook could never deny the attraction he’s felt for you while growing up and even today. so he couldn’t ruin you like that. you practically grew up together, he’s seen you through every phase of your life. including the one you were in now, at twenty one years old and in your wild college phase. he couldn’t be so ruthless and dirty with someone he holds at such a high regard. he could treat the daughter of his second family like that. what he did to women in bed was–

“is it really a no? or a not right now?” you still egged on, snapping him from his thoughts.

he said nothing. the silence between the both of you had been loud, raking your eyes across each other before jungkook tugged himself away and opened the door finally. you were out of sight now and no longer disturbing his being. he stepped over beer bottles and other miscellaneous items scattered across the floor as his friends welcomed him back with a loud uproar. he tried to enter back into the group and wipe his mind of that question you asked, but nothing worked. all he could think about was that cute pout on your lips while you begged him to fuck you. he just had zero shame huh, getting hard to the thought of you right in front of mingyu’s face.

so now jungkook had a problem. you were like an itch that he couldn’t scratch and it was now bleeding into his everyday activities. he couldn’t go anywhere he knew you’d be. which was with mingyu, in mingyu’s home, going to his and mingyu’s university. so now it was to where he was avoiding his own best friend. he couldn’t be in the same atmosphere with you right now. he didn’t know what would transpire if he was alone with you again, especially in that kitchen. that kitchen where he could bend you over that marble and show you how you were supposed to be pleasured. he couldn’t avoid you for long though, especially not when mingyu was blowing his phone up in the middle of his workout set.

he immediately dropped the weights, slamming them slightly to take the call. “what’s up?”

“you ignoring me kookie?” mingyu cooed through the speaker in a whine. “i miss you, who are you with? you’re fucking someone aren’t you? it’s serious?” mingyu went on and on like the possessive girlfriend he acted like.

it was actually the opposite. he was trying not to fuck someone.

“just studying for finals baby, you know i can’t get rid of you.” he played into it.

“better be,” he started again. “but hey… could you do me a favor and pick y/n up? she’s at some shitty frat party.” he started. by the sound of a girls laughter in the background, it was evident mingyu definitely could pick you up himself, if jihyo wasn’t with him. mingyu’s long term fuck buddy and borderline girlfriend. at least when they finally confessed their love for each other. is it really still friends with benefits if both of you haven’t been with anyone else in over a year, go on dates, and established that you’d kill the other if they did as much as look as another person? eh what did jungkook know though?

“and why can’t you?” mingyu could picture jungkook in his upset dad stance right now.

“because jihyo’s showing me something.” he murmured. jungkook wasn’t stupid. he heard her shuffle to her knees. “plus she’s uh– she’s closer to you, i checked her location.”

“yeah yeah i got her, can you just hang up, don’t wanna hear your ass getting head.” he joked while slipping his car keys into his sweats.

“whatever. anyways cod and beers soon? i miss you. pretty sure y/n does too.”

jungkook choked on his spit. “hell yeah, i’ll stay over for a bit after i grab her.”

the line went dead and jungkook mentally cursed himself for accepting this favor. now he had to last a whole car ride with you. jeon jungkook who fucked circles around girls couldn’t even trust himself to not cream his pants when sitting next to you. just perfect. when he pulled up in front of the party you were already standing outside and ready. your arms were wrapped around your body, occasionally pulling at your tiny dress when it would rise above your thighs. you could do nothing but smirk when you watched jungkook’s sleek car roll up on you. he rolled the window down, tipping his head back and gesturing you over to the car.

“well what a pleasant surprise.” you slurred. he leaned over and pulled the passenger side door open, watching you climb in. “where’s my brother? jihyo i’m guessing?” you loved jihyo personally. she was slowly integrated into your family more and more. not only was she good for your brother but fun to hang out with. at the end of the day your brother was a man, therefore he couldn’t tell that that woman wanted him in a way that wasn’t just being friends with benefits.

“where are you coming from?” he ignored your question. he scoffed even, looking you up and down and taking in the tiny dress you wore.

“a guy invited me to this party, he ended the night making out with some sorority bitch, i ended it at the drink table.” oh jungkook could tell.

“i keep telling you about these little boys y/n, they don’t know what to do with a woman.”

“okay well it sounds like you do.”

“right.”

the alcohol was strong in your system, ready to start speaking for you. you made yourself comfortable, shifting your body towards him and giving him a look that was heightened by sin. he needed you to stop. to stop looking at him like that, fuck he needed you to stop looking like that. he could see you from the corner of his eye, batting your lashes, smiling drunkenly at him… at his strained cock. “so if i wasn’t mingyu’s sister? would you then?” your velvety voice asked. it was obvious you didn’t care, you never considered mingyu for a minute. you weren’t the one that would be in trouble here, you didn’t have anything to care about. there was something disgustingly hot about it. it was wrong and fucked up.

“would i do what?” he was just as wrong for making you tell him how you wanted him to take you. “got this dirty mouth all of a sudden so let me hear you say it.”

“you know… how you fuck all of those other girls.” you shrugged. “sloppy and raw, skin to skin and stuff.” your words went straight to his cock, hard and aching for a girl he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about like that. who the fuck told you this? who taught you this? you weren’t supposed to be coming to him with vulgar language, he was supposed to be filling you with it. someone had gotten to you first all because jungkook cared about hurting his best friend. and that was your example? sloppy and raw was nothing compared to how he’d fuck you.

“you know why we can’t do this?”

“i know why i just don’t care. my brother this, my brother that.” that mouth that you had on you? you were asking for it weren’t you? he’d been letting you off the hook too much recently. if you kept going at him like this he wouldn’t give a fuck about mingyu anymore, he’d show you exactly what he did to brats that think they’re high and mighty.

“right smart ass, but wrong.” he pulled up at a red light, the color bouncing off of both of you and painting your skin a lustful red. he turned to see you were already staring, at his lips, back to his eyes, then his prominent dick print that you just couldn’t pry your eyes from. “eyes up here.” he lifted your chin up with his finger, his finger that turned into the entirety of his hand being wrapped around your throat. “i know you won’t tell. but i respect your brother, i respect your family. get over this little crush that you have.”

get over him? get over him when he was touching you like this? you were melting, this felt surreal. this was surreal. it wasn’t a lot, just a hand around your throat but holy fuck his hand was around your fucking throat. the man you’ve been wet dreaming about for years. the man who derails your train of thought entirely when he’s around, the man who’s making your pussy drip on his seats and he fucking knows it. “jungkook..” you whimpered and pleaded. your body began grinding against his leather seats on its own. what a pathetic little slut, he didn’t even have to touch your achy parts to get you going. “i know you respect them, but i want you to disrespect me.”

“fuck.” his hand dropped when the light changed to green, speeding down the road to get you home. it took everything in him not to rip that thin excuse of a dress off and slap you around on his cock before then. “you need help right? let’s make that pussy cum.” his words moved without his thoughts. you nodded with need. this was it, this was finally it. he was going to touch you, take away all this built up ache from your needy cunt. he was going to wear you out and claim you as his. at least you thought. he smirked when he saw your expression. you looked at jungkook as if he built the pyramids, with so much wonder and hope.

“please koo, need it… n-need you.”

“i know pretty girl, i know.” he cooed. “can’t touch you, but you can.” he never said he couldn’t help you verbally. “go ahead, spread those legs and get started. want that nut before you get home?”

despite your disappointment you did as you were told immediately, sinking into the passenger seat and getting started on the place where all that liquor went anyways, your puffy clit. you rubbed through your underwear, head thrown back, toes curling and heels kicked off. all while jungkook kept his eyes on the road. he wanted to break that barrier, he wanted to plunge his fingers in that tight pussy but he knew once he touched you he’d need more. he’d need too much.

“pull ‘em to the side, no need to be shy. you know me.” his voice was like honey, dripping down your throat in corruptive goodness. it was so simple but so lewd, nothing like you’d ever done before. your sexual experiences were fairly vanilla, you weren’t used to the kinkier, more nasty side of sex. “do i have to do it for you?” he knew he shouldn’t overstep, but he needed to help you in another type of way. it was amusing to see how your body reacted when all he did was hook his fingers on your cute undies and pull them to the side. the cool air hit your clit, strings of slick stretching from your pussy and making your panties glisten.

“oh fuck-“ you whimpered. your legs were spread the farthest they could go. your knees were resting on your shoulders with your gooey pussy all warm and exposed for the man driving. jungkook had his left hand on the steering wheel, the right hand holding your soaked panties to the side. his knuckles brushed over your wetness and you jerked. “oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck– mhmmmm fuck…” you moaned, so pretty for him. you smacked your pussy around, a few harsh slaps coming in contact with the wetness and making a nice big mess.

“sloppy pussy, who knew lil gyu had such a sloppy little pussy?” you rolled your eyes at the nickname, the one you earned just for being related to mingyu. “fuck your fingers for me. let me see how deep you can go.” your fingers slipped in and instantly your hole puckered around them. your legs shook and that’s when jungkook knew he couldn’t take this any longer. he had to see his baby cum for him, not focus on a fucking road right now. he turned on his hazards and pulled over, parking and diverting his being all to you.

“wanna cum koo, wan’ your help…” your voice phased out and became muffled over the sound of your fingers moving faster inside of your cunt. the car filled with the pretty melody of your creamy pussy, gripping all on your fingers while you looked drunkenly at the cause for your sopping cunt. him.“touch me koo, we’re so far gone can you just– please…” this is what didn’t feel right. watching you play in your pussy without him. looking wasn’t hurting, so maybe a touch or two would be fine? if it was with his mouth it shouldn’t be too wrong. mingyu wasn’t even here for christ sake. you weren’t anything more than an incoherent mess of moans and wetness now. you needed him. jungkook promised mingyu he’d always be there for you. yeah, gyu would understand.

“your brother is going to fucking kill me.”

all you did was give him that brain dead giggle. god he really was screwed.

so jungkook decided to overstep one last time. after all a pussy kiss wouldn’t hurt, neither would a thumb on your wet, puffy clit. it was your little secret. something you could both be fucking killed for, but you had been so so good for him. so understanding and patient. “take those fingers out for me,” you obeyed, eyes widening when jungkook took your fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around your digits and sucking yourself off. “juust like that baby, look at all that slick, all for me? all for your brothers best friend? tasting so fucking perfect.” he finished up, leaving your fingers clean. he was going to have so much fun with you.

jungkook leaned his body over the console, ducking down to face your pussy and diving in without wasting a second. your back arched off the seat and you clawed around for anything you could hold. he was so fucking ruthless. your mouth hung open, trying to process how good he was eating you. you deserved the pair of lips that were wrapped around your clit right now. suddenly a string of thank you’s were spilling from your mouth. for picking you up, for putting up with your mouth, for breaking his personal rules for himself and eating your pussy out, and for making you spill into his mouth after a few more licks, grinds to his tongue, and tugs to his hair.

you panted while he kept lapping at your pussy, making sure to clean up the mess he caused. you watched him with stars in your eyes, stroking his tossed hair and rubbing at his strong shoulders.

“why can’t i just tell you no.” he whispered against your clit, giving it another kiss before sealing you back up. “let’s get you home. bet you had a really long night of fucking with dudes that can’t make you cum.” there he was. arrogant as ever.

“you sound jealous.” you pulled your dress back down and over your thighs. jungkook watched for traffic before pulling back onto the road.

“jealous? of guys that i know aren’t better than me? you’re funny. that orgasm got you feeling gassed up now huh?”

“an orgasm i could have given myself, thank you.”

“an orgasm you begged me for.”

“when will you stop running your pussy munchers and just fuck me?” you pouted at him mockingly. the respect he had left you for was dwindling. he was probably going to take you up on that disrespect part. while he did get too close tonight, it still wouldn’t be that easy for him to betray his best friend. no matter how taunting you were, he wasn’t going to fuck you. as much as his dick was aching for you, it wasn’t happening, not yet. he pulled up outside of your house and walked you up to the door. he walked several feet behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. if you were to ever get caught for this he would be the one making it too obvious.

once you pushed the door open both of you tip toed through the living room and into the kitchen. you flicked on the light and came face to face with a startled mingyu who was standing by the microwave, the light bouncing off of his face.“ kookie!” mingyu sprung up from his spot and engulfed his best friend in a hug. he was just slightly taller, so mingyu did suffocate him a bit. “missed your lil cute ass, jihyo’s upstairs too if you wanna say hi.”

“your sister is here too by the way.” you rolled your eyes and went for the stairs. you were ready to just hit your bed right now.

“yeah yeah i see you everyday, don’t pull anything like that again though.” of course you couldn’t get away without getting scolded. “you’re lucky jungkook was able to grab you, you love going out on nights i make plans.”

“yeah sure, whatever. but thanks koo, for giving me a ride and all.” you said, underlying your words with a thanks to something else.

“anytime, you know i’ll always give you anything, when you need it.” in front of mingyu too? where did this bold side of him come from? you both locked eyes briefly, mingyu was busy pulling his food from the microwave. you looked away, dissolving the tension between you two and saving it for another time. meanwhile jungkook had been watching you walk up the stairs in that skimpy dress that wouldn’t stop rolling up your ass. your hand did little to cover it, very purposely at that. he only took his eyes away when you disappeared into your room with a slam of your door.

“thanks for getting her seriously,” mingyu shook jungkook from his trance. he held out two beers that he must have opened during jungkook’s staring contest with your pussy. “i’m just starting to hate when she goes out without us you know? this campus is getting too dangerous. i’m glad we live with our parents at least.” mingyu explained.

“i feel the same way, these guys are getting fucking weird.” jungkook sighed, taking a swig of the bottle.

“that, and the fact that jaehyun has been talking to her more, like around the house and shit when he’s here. it’s weird, he knows i hate that.” jaehyun was one of many in their friend group. but how every group had sub units to break off from it, jaehyun, jungkook, and mingyu had formed into their own little trio. it was weird, how he was all of a sudden asking shit like your favorite foods and movies. jungkook thought so too. you didn’t know him like that. they didn’t know why he was trying to get to know you like that.

mingyu made sure that you knew none of their friends, with exception of jungkook. he knew jungkook would never betray him in that sense. he listened to mingyu ramble on about how dead jaehyun was if he touched you, how he’d better pray for his life to be spared if he did as much as think about you.

“i don’t think jaehyun is that dumb. can’t be.” jungkook said sternly, yet with undertones of guilt.

“better not be. god i’d fucking kill him. anyone who tries to touch her i’ll– ugh, fuckin’ swear.”

he and jungkook raised their bottles at the same time, both taking long sips before resting them on the counters again.

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feeder86 · 2 months ago

Text

Guy and a Gain

“Sure, she’s cute. But she can’t give a decent blow job to save her life,” Guy shrugged, checking out the girls on the dancefloor with his football buddy, Rich.

“You’ve slept with her already?” Rich asked, always impressed by Guy’s prowess.

“Of course I have. Look at her. She’s the prettiest girl in here by far,” he nodded down at her. “But she has no instincts when it comes to giving head. She’s been my biggest disappointment since I arrived on campus.”

“I’m sure she could learn,” Rich shrugged, still taken with the girl. He was tall and broad and enough of a catch for her. However, he didn’t have the natural good looks, strapping build and height that made it so effortless for Guy to pick up whoever he wanted on a night out.

“If you want her, go buy her a drink,” Guy shrugged. “But I’m telling you, you’ll be disappointed. If it’s a decent blow job you’re after tonight, you can’t go wrong with a fat girl. They’re always out to please. Gay guys too - awesome at taking a dick in their mouth.”

“Dude!” Rich shot back, taking a step back in horror. “You’re telling me you’re gay?”

Guy laughed, rolled his eyes and shook his head. He strapped his big arm over Rich’s shoulders and pulled him back in. “Don’t be that guy,” he stated warningly. “Not if you and I are going to be friends. It’s not the nineties. You hear what I’m saying?” he asked, turning his head to Rich. There was no denying which of them would win in a fight, so he wasn’t about to take some outdated homophobic shit just because the idiot came from some backwards ghost town in the midwest. “I love sex. And I stick my dick wherever it feels good. That’s just the kind of man I am.”

Rich seemed to get that he’d been out of line and he nodded respectfully. All the boys on the football team looked up to Guy, not just for his sporting capability and strength, but because he genuinely didn’t seem to give a crap about what others thought about him. He was smart and sharp; perfectly suited to the business degree he was studying. “So who’s given you the best time since we started college?” he asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Guy chuckled. “I have this skinny little geek in the room next to mine. You could tell he was a total virgin until I came along, but… fuck me! The boy is a natural when it comes to sucking. And so convenient, right next door. I don’t even have to knock.”

Rich nodded; his world view was a little less narrow than it had been a few minutes ago and he now seemed genuinely interested in his team mate’s extensive experiences in the bedroom. They chatted a bit more, until Guy saw the girl he wanted that night. Short, round and eyeing him like crazy. He’d give her a night she’d never forget!

“She was a bit of a noisy one last night,” Mikey grumbled, sliding into the kitchen area the next morning.

Guy laughed and tore a large bite out of his toast with his teeth. “Sorry, buddy,” he laughed. “I forgot you nerds all go to bed at 9am.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and poured himself some cereal. It was rare that they ever got the kitchen space to themselves like this, but Guy was always up for his gym session, no matter what time he went to bed. He sat there, hunched at the breakfast bar, his damp clothes sticking to his enormously muscular body. Even unshowered and stinking of sweat like this, he knew he could still get his favorite neighbor, Mikey, to go down on him in a microsecond.

“I noticed you brought home another fat girl,” Mikey commented next, grabbing the last of his own fresh milk that Guy had left him, after downing most of it post-workout. “You’re making quite a habit of this.”

Guy rose to his feet and laughed, dropping his plate in the sink for Mikey to clean up after him and grabbing the boy by his hips from behind. “Spying on me, huh?” he whispered teasingly. The boy was at least half a foot shorter than him, melting the moment he was touched. “Jealous, perhaps?”

Mikey moaned as he felt Guy’s lustful hands slide into his crotch to check how hard he was. “I just thought…” he mumbled, “some people find it odd when athletes like you date the fat girls.”

“Because I really give a shit about what people think, don’t I?” Guy chuckled back, peeling back Mikey’s shorts so that his tight glutes were exposed. “I could fuck your skinny little ass later if you think it might balance things out a bit?” he teased. He strolled off to the refrigerator, leaving Mikey to cover himself back up before anyone else came in, perusing the shelf of food Mikey had bought for himself yesterday and seeing if there was anything he wanted to help himself to. “Just because you eat like a little sparrow...,” he sighed, seeing the boring items within and taking a large pot of yoghurt to eat in his bedroom, “... it doesn’t mean that everyone else has to.”

Later that evening, Guy lay back on Mikey’s bed, his head swirling from the intensity of the orgasm after shooting down his geeky neighbor’s throat. He’d never admit to his face how good Mikey was at this, but of the scores of people he had slept with since coming to college, Mikey was the only one he’d made a habit of going back to.

“How was that?” the keen boy asked; his eyes watering from having taken Guy so far down his throat.

“Average,” Guy lied, wishing the nerd would be quiet a few moments longer and allow him this period of pure bliss.

“Not like the fat girls you bring home with you then?” Mikey asked.

Guy opened his eyes and sighed, sitting up. “Are you still going on about that?” he grumbled, pulling his underwear back up his muscular legs and raising his butt to get them all the way up.

“I kinda wanted to ask you something?” Mikey tried next, in an oddly serious tone.

Again, Guy sighed impatiently. “What is it?”

“These fat girls you go after… do you ever get horny thinking about them… y’know… getting even fatter?”

Guy raised an eyebrow. What sort of an odd question was that? He shrugged his shoulders, deciding not to commit to an answer and see where the hell Mikey was going with this. “Why do you ask?”

Mikey seemed emboldened by Guy’s response, getting up from his kneeling position on the floor and sitting on the chair by his desk. “It’s just… sort of a fantasy of mine,” he explained.

“Me fucking fat chicks?” Guy asked sceptically? He realised he knew so little about what genuinely got Mike going.

“No. Not that,” he replied, shaking his head. “There’s just something so kinky and submissive about getting fat for someone; becoming soft and out of shape.”

Guy looked across, even more puzzled, despite doing his best to hide it. “You eat less food than anyone else I know,” he shot back. “You won’t be getting fat anytime soon!”

Mikey nodded, as if Guy had hit the nail right on the head. “Exactly!” he smiled. “Imagine if someone pushed me to get fat for them! If some dominant guy made me eat all the things that forced my body to grow and grow for his own pleasure. How fucking sexy would that be?”

Nodding, Guy considered the idea. “You’re definitely submissive enough,” he agreed, standing and pulling up his sweat shorts.

“You’re not going to tell anyone I told you that, are you?” Mikey asked, suddenly panicked.

“Who the fuck do you think would be interested?” Guy laughed. “People are allowed to have kinks, y’know? You need to lighten up a little!”

Mikey nodded back in agreement. Neither of them socialised within the same circles anyway. Guy was nothing if not liberal when it came to all things to do with sex. It was water off a duck’s back.

Mikey didn’t mention the subject the next time Guy went over for his servicing, despite being surprisingly chatty about his day afterwards. Guy listened out of a vague politeness as he stretched out on Mikey’s comfortable bed and watched the TV screen in the background. He could relax around Mikey. The guy didn’t take any of this too seriously and never got clingy or sentimental. Sex was sex.

In fact, it was only as Guy spotted Mikey in the corner at a frat house party, that he realised he had never actually seen Mikey outside of the dorms until then. Their lives were so disconnected, with the exception of the thin wall that separated their dorm rooms. He waved politely, following the other athletes through to the kitchen, where the usual fun and drinking games took place.

Later that evening, with a circle of women swarming around him, Guy looked over to see a boy looking in Mikey’s direction. Tall, slim and not unattractive, he gave Guy the distinct impression that he was interested in the nerdy boy. “Does anyone know who that one is?” Guy asked the girls.

“That’s just Aiden,” one replied. “He’s got a crush on that guy over there,” she pointed at Mikey. “They're on the same course together or something.”

Aiden? That name rang a bell. Guy was sure he’d heard that name mentioned by Mikey a few times in the past. It surprised him how little he had actually considered Mikey’s life outside of their casual fucking. Of course Mikey was going to pique someone else’s interest at some point. Guy wasn’t the type to get into a relationship, but perhaps Mikey would be. Then what would happen? No more awesome blow jobs for a start. Normal people weren’t good at sharing.

“Hey, Mikey!” Guy suddenly shouted from across the room, catching sight of Aiden moving in, as if to make his move. “Come grab a drink with me.”

Mikey smiled and diligently headed over. There, Guy wrapped a big arm over his slim shoulders and slipped a shot into his hand. Guy himself didn’t drink, never needing alcohol to make him fun at a party and refusing to fuck his training up with toxins that could impact his progress. There he stood, guarding the boy from any who may try to come near. Ten minutes was all they stayed after that, walking back to the dorms so that Aiden couldn’t sneak his way towards Mikey when Guy wasn’t looking.

“Are you coming in?” Guy asked, opening the door to his own bedroom and inviting Mikey inside.

“I’m honoured!” Mikey joked, having never been invited into Guy’s room before. He stepped over the threshold, into the dungeon of mess, sweat and sex.

The idea of Aiden had plagued Guy’s mind, suddenly making him realise just how much he had taken Mikey, and his awesome sucking skills, for granted. A gesture was required; a way to show the boy that his pleasure was important too. Guy stood in the middle of the room, planting his feet solidly and pulled the geek into him; kissing him passionately in an almost romantic manner. “Did you like that?” he grinned afterwards, knowing how well he could seduce when he wanted to. He pulled off his shirt and went in again, this time guiding Mikey’s hands to explore his muscular chest. He needed Mikey to know what an absolutely perfect specimen he was if the boy was going to be asked out by Aiden soon; let him see what he would be missing out on if he got into a relationship. “Let’s take off your clothes,” Guy whispered next, undressing Mikey himself until his pants and underwear fell around his feet and he stood there naked, erect and longing for him.

Mikey seemed to appreciate how different this all was. Guy was the first to admit that he never really put the effort in when it came to his sessions with the boy next door. Then, when Guy started sliding his large hand up and down Mikey’s hardness, the skinny boy moaned like he could climax at any time.

Guy had no intention of losing his fuck buddy. For the last hour, he’d been plotting how best to handle the situation, settling upon something he decided he could give Mikey better than anyone else. He threw open his closet door where a mirror rested on the other side, now reflecting Mikey perfectly back at himself.

“Who’s that skinny little shit in the mirror?” Guy teased him, looking like a monster of pure muscle stood behind him.

In the mirror, Mikey watched Guy’s hand slowly sliding up and down his hardness; his lust filled eyes half closed and his jaw slack.

“I want you to do something for me,” Guy whispered next. “I want you to drink my protein shakes,” he nodded backwards to the little minibar that also served as a bedside table for him. “Five hundred and eighty calories each,”

Mikey turned and looked up at him, as if the reflected version was merely a mirage. “You want me to drink all your shakes?” he asked, as if worried he had misunderstood.

“Yeah, I do…” Guy nodded down at him. “Every last drop.”

Guy could feel Mikey almost quivering with arousal. He bent down to his little fridge and popped the lid on one of his shakes.

“You know what these will do to you, right?” Guy grinned. “These aren’t made for skinny little dweebs like you. Boys who drink these and don’t exercise… they start to…” he whispered, keeping Mikey hanging on his every word. “...They start to get a little fat!””

Mikey nodded with absolute submission; his hands twitching to take the bottle from Guy’s large hand.

“Say goodbye to the skinny boy,” Guy laughed, nodding at the reflection once more, before twisting the mirror slightly so that the angle changed. Then he sat himself against the headboard of his bed. He spread his legs, pulling Mikey to sit into his crotch with his back resting against his strapping chest. Cleverly, Mikey could still see everything in the mirror as Guy’s hand rose up his neck, tipping his head back so that it rested on his muscular shoulder. Then those strong fingers pressed into Mikey’s cheeks, opening the jaws and turning Mikey’s mouth into the perfect pouring hole for the shake.

The mixture was cold. Guy took his time, adding a little at a time, as if making Mikey work for it. He theatrically rubbed the boy’s throat, like he was encouraging a good swallow; then went straight back to work on that aching erection. Once one bottle was down, Guy could reach with his giant arm span down into his minibar for the next, without even having to move Mikey. Then, down went another, and another.

“Can you see what’s happening?” Guy whispered, rubbing a hand over Mikey’s bloating stomach.

“It looks so big!” Mikey moaned back, with Guy having to pull his hand away from the boy’s erection once again in order to stop him climaxing.

“This is what you’re going to grow for me,” Guy demanded. “Every day, everything you eat… all for me.”

Mikey moaned so loudly now, it felt almost cruel to deny him his orgasm any longer. “Yes!” he nodded emphatically. “I swear. I absolutely swear!”

Guy only needed to touch him for a few seconds and the eruption that followed was more explosive than any he had ever seen a guy make. He looked at the splatter above the headboard behind them and chuckled. It was almost as high as he could get it himself. This was certainly a strange kink that Mikey had, but Guy felt that he had made his point well. No one was going to indulge this geek in his fantasies about weight gain; at least, not like Guy could. So why would Mikey need to look for connections anywhere else?

A few days later, Guy did a double take as he looked on Mikey's shelf in the refrigerator for food he could steal after his workout. Gone were the boring, sensible ingredients, replaced with high carb options, sugars and high fat dairy. Guy almost thought he was just confused, until he checked out the cupboard that Mikey kept for himself as well, finding a similar story. He frowned in confusion, wondering whether people had reorganised the kitchen space, until the encounter with Mikey nights before came back to him. Was the boy actually going to have a go at gaining a few pounds? How cute was that? But would this mean that Guy would have to buy more of his own food whilst Mikey was going through this little phase of his?

The normally fresh and clean smell of Mikey’s room was tainted by spices and the sweaty, grease stained food containers that piled up on the boy’s desk. Mikey himself looked bloated and sluggish, his stomach stretched so much that he was obviously in some discomfort. Guy looked down at him, trying to hold back a laugh. “Someone’s been enjoying himself!” he teased.

Mikey nodded. “If I’d have known you wanted to stop by tonight, I’d have saved the pizza so you could watch me eat it all for you.”

Guy wondered what on Earth Mikey expected him to get out of watching him eat a pizza. Was it supposed to be kinky? Like the protein shakes? Perhaps it was part of the submission aspect. All the same, it sounded more than a little dull. But this was Mikey’s kink and Guy was hardly about to shame him about it. On the contrary, how exciting that the otherwise vanilla boy was actually doing something that he genuinely found thrilling. “We’ll have a little fat belly on you in no time!” he smirked, reaching down to pat the clearly overstuffed stomach.

Like a flip switching in Mikey’s mind, the boy instantly became more aroused. Guy took notice, rubbing the stomach more and more, until Mikey finally fished out Guy’s boner and set his magic mouth to work.

“Have you seen Mikey recently?” asked Hannah, a former conquest of Guy's and the girl who lived across the hallway. “He’s seriously packed on the Freshman Fifteen.”

“You probably just saw him after he’d had a meal,” Guy replied knowingly. “He tends to eat a lot in one go. He gets bloated.”

Hannah shook her head, not accepting the excuse in the slightest. “This was first thing in the morning. He has actual love handles!” she stated emphatically.

Now it was Guy’s turn to shake his head. He’d only been in to play with Mikey a few days before the Spring Break and he hadn’t noticed any sign of love handles before then.

Hannah laughed. “Seriously!” she chuckled. “I’m not making this up.”

Guy marched down the corridor and knocked on Mikey’s door, making Hannah laugh as she stayed in the kitchen. “Wakey, wakey!” he called out, knowing that the boy was rarely up at this time on a Saturday. In the short space of time that it took a groggy Mikey to get out of bed, the door clicked unlocked and in Guy went, closing the door behind him. The dark, hunched form of Guy’s drowsy neighbor slipped straight back into bed. Instead, Guy strolled over to the window and threw them open dramatically. “Time to get up!” he teased.

As light flooded the room, Guy could see the mess of wrappers and containers that was testament to how much Mikey had been overfeeding himself since he arrived back on Wendesday night. He laughed to himself, picking up some of the mess and putting it on the boy’s desk. Then, knowing that it would frustrate Mikey, he reached for the duvet and yanked it away with full force, uncovering the entirely naked boy lying on his front underneath.

Guy’s eyes flew to the little rounded pads of flesh on Mikey’s side, the skin starting to crease and mark the area more clearly: love handles, without a shadow of a doubt. “Ho, ho!” he blasted in amusement. “Look at you!” he marvelled, reaching his big hand down onto his neighbor’s glute and finding it was squishy and significantly bouncier, with clearly added mass to it. “Someone is actually getting chubby!” he teased, absolutely astonished with the difference. That skinny little ass was gone, replaced with something much more meaty and even a little feminine.

Despite his tiredness, Mikey wrigged with arousal at the touch as Guy began playing with the softness that even spread down into his thighs. He rolled over; his erection already sizable as he tried to open his eyes and look towards Guy, even with the harsh light coming in through the window behind him.

What was happening to Mikey’s chest? Guy inspected further. The nipples seemed softer and the blubbery build up in the boy’s love handles was further spread across his stomach, deepening his belly button. “Stand up,” Guy demanded. “I want to look at you properly.”

Mikey did as he was told, Guy placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, guiding him over to the mirror, so that he could see all angles at once.

“Fuck!” Guy laughed, seeing what a transformation had been silently happening behind his back. He felt proud. The biggest complaint people had about Mikey, here in the dorms, was that he was a fairly dull and boring person. Well, look at him now! This was hardly boring. The kinky little fucker was actually doing something none of them would ever have the guts to do. “I’m pleased,” Guy told him honestly, looking at his face in the reflection. “How does it feel for you?”

At this Mikey’s hands began exploring himself, grabbing at the fat and jiggling where he could with the tips of his fingers. “Amazing!” he whispered back, bursting with arousal.

“Well then…” Guy smiled, placing his hand back on Mikey’s chubby glute: his favorite new feature by far. “...You have to keep going,” he stated. “Keep eating and eating. Add more and more fresh fat onto this frame of yours.”

“I will,” Mikey nodded back obediently. “If it’s what you want. I’ll keep going as far as I can!”

Guy had never seen Mikey’s dick dribbling with arousal so easily. If this weight gain and submission was what aroused him so much, there was no way he could let it stop. “It’s what I want,” Guy agreed. “I want you to grow a proper fat belly, just for me.”

The pair kissed. Guy had never felt Mikey moan and collapse into him quite so much; like a ragdoll, ready to be played with.

“I know what’ll help…” Guy laughed, pulling down his pants and tugging on his own semi-erection until it was pumped and hard. “Let’s lubricate your throat ready for a full day of eating,” he joked cheekily.

Immediately, Mikey slipped to his knees. His jaws opened and he hungrily took the whole of Guy’s enormous erection down his throat like no one else on campus could. It took Guy by surprise each time, how instantaneous the pleasure was. He had to spread his legs a little more and reach one hand out to steady himself on the wall for fear that he may fall over. He didn’t need to press Mikey’s head into his crotch. The boy needed no guidance in the slightest. It was all just so perfect.

An involuntary moan escaped Guy’s lips. Now that his fuck buddy was getting fat, he wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to steal him away. Mikey’s mouth was all his.

No one on campus was aware that Guy and Mikey were anything more than casual acquaintances, and so no one was cautious about discussing Mikey weight gain around Guy. The overall feeling was one of amusement. In many ways, it was understandable. Mikey had indeed been incredibly thin at the start of the year and he was heading towards the summer looking significantly softer and padded. For the most part, Guy simply ignored it, or tried to move the conversations away. He wasn’t about the campus drama and the behind the scenes bad-mouthing like some of the others. Sure, people were going to talk, but they didn’t have the full story in the same way that Guy did.

The final football game of the season arrived and Guy was pumped for it. He didn’t get nervous like the others seemed to. He was also bigger than everyone else on the field, not weighed down by excess weight, making him lighter on his feet than the opposition ever expected from him. He’d been buzzing the entire morning, heading to the gym for a full session despite the advice from his coach to rest that morning. He simply had too much energy to spare. He knocked on Mikey’s door wondering whether the boy was up for a little fun before he had to leave. Unlike everyone else in the dorms, Mikey never came down to the games. He simply wasn’t into sports, and that was fair enough. In fact, Mikey seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that it was even taking place that day, answering the door and ushering Guy inside excitedly.

“Look what I bought!” the chubby boy smiled, leading Guy over to his desk where a large, round cake sat waiting for a party of twenty people to come in and start feasting upon it. “I’m going to try and eat it all this afternoon!” he beamed.

Guy chuckled to himself, seeing the erection already pressing against Mikey’s sweatshorts. “You go for it, buddy!” he smiled, clapping the boy on his back. His enthusiasm for overeating and putting on weight was almost infectious at times. He lifted the plastic lid and swept his finger around the edge, gathering a decent amount of cream which Mikey excitedly sucked off.

“Do you want to feed it to me?” Mikey asked, pulling his shirt off to reveal his softening torso.

Inwardly, Guy sighed with disappointment. How long would that take? He had to leave in twenty minutes or so, and if Mikey’s mouth was going to be occupied that entire time, there was no chance of a quick blow job.

“How about…” Guy began, lifting his own shirt off and dropping his shorts and underwear, “...we both have a little fun at the same time?”

“What did you have in mind?” Mikey asked, watching as Guy pulled out the lubricant from the drawer and squirted it into his hand.

Guy looked down at him with a smirk. Then he reached a hand into Mikey’s crack and began preparing the area, making the boy moan with arousal as his large fingers brushed and gently penetrated. Mikey pulled down his underwear to help him and was soon leaning into it so much that Guy could give him a decent warm up.

Having a firm press down on his back, Mikey obediently slipped onto all fours. Guy reached for the cake and placed it underneath the boy’s face. “Ready?” he asked, reaching for Mikey’s jaw, as if loosening it up for better movement and stretch.

Mikey’s eyes were on the prize. His head was lowered down into it, perhaps more than he was expecting, his nose now pressing into the sponge and his tongue lapping it all up with ferocious speed.

Guy assumed his position, grabbing a condom, sliding his hardness into Mikey’s gaping butt and sighing with pleasure. As blessed as most people told him he was with such a large dick, Guy found he was rarely allowed to settle into his own good rhythm when penetrating. There was simply too much of him to handle. WIth Mikey, however, the boy just seemed to relax so much, it was like total freedom for Guy. After wincing the initial time they had tried this, Mikey took to it with ease. He was the only one Guy could properly deliver what he referred to as a ‘thorough pounding’.

Through the mirror, Guy could see that Mikey’s face was now covered in cake as he tried to gorge himself at the same time as his body was getting pumped from behind. Guy laughed, happy to take the control that Mikey offered up so willingly. “Come on!” he chuckled. “You can do better than that!” he called out encouragingly, seeing Mikey’s tongue scrabbling about trying to lick up as much as he could.

The fat on Mikey’s back had really come a long way since they had last done this. The love handles in particular seemed to ripple and bounce out of sync with the rest of his body. The bones in his shoulder blades were less severe and an emerging softness appeared to be forming just under his arms. However, the boy’s butt was the centerpiece; the way it was spread so wide and felt so much softer to the touch as Guy gripped on.

A moan started emanating from Mikey. In the mirror, his eyes were rolling up into his head. He began oinking - actually oinking, as he continued to gorge himself. Guy sped up. There was nothing he got off to more than seeing someone else genuinely getting lost in the moment. Mikey was letting go like never before.

“That’s it!” Guy cried out. “Oink like a pig!”

Without even a hand anywhere near his own hardness, it was obvious that Mikey was climaxing. His face fell upon the cake and he groaned louder than he ever had during sex before. The whole thing made the pleasure build upon Guy with rapid speed; almost taken by surprise as he felt himself squirt.

Guy wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed in relief. He’d rarely felt so completely satisfied before. He pulled out, stopping only momentarily to chuckle at the wide, gaping hole he left behind, then unpeeled the condom and began dressing himself. The mess was everywhere, cake smashed into the carpet that would take some time to scrub out.

“Thanks for that,” Guy smiled, looking down at the fat boy who had rolled onto his doughy rear and not even attempted to clean any of the cake off his face yet. He too seemed to be enjoying momentary bliss, grabbing at the first roll of his fattened stomach like it was the most precious thing in the world. Guy’s work was done here.

During the summer months, Guy had sweet talked his way into an internship with a local company, hoping to boost his CV for when he finished his degree in a further two years. He didn’t need to be told that his pretty face would be an asset for the company, but he was surprised at how much more he was interacting with the clients than the others in his position. A well fitting shirt and a tight pair of pants never failed to make things easier for him to charm pretty much everyone he was around. Already, he could see how well suited he was to business; his boss realising what a force to be reckoned with Guy could one day become. "This guy is going to take over the world one day!" she'd laughed as Guy pulled in new clients from a sponsorship event that he had organised entirely by himself.

Guy had also briefly dated a couple of girls, wanting to experience the steamy ‘summer love’ of his old high school days. However, he still had no intentions of settling down for anyone. Not a chance!

Mikey, meanwhile, had taken a job at a fast food restaurant back in his hometown; returning to campus that year looking like he hadn’t stopped eating the entire time. Quite a few of them had applied to stay in the dorms and been successful, but there was still plenty of fresh meat for Guy to enjoy about the place.

Guy remembered being quite taken aback when he saw the full stomach on Mikey after their time apart. It had morphed from a tight paunch to a full starter gut, complete with pointed and juicy-looking nipples. Had the boy seriously eaten nothing but fast food all summer? A simple rub of Mikey’s stomach or jiggle of his fleshy rear never failed to get the new chub horny, and Guy was all in for that. He thought back to the previous year and how forward he’d had to be with shy Mikey just to let him know that he was interested. Sex had not been a part of Mikey’s life before then, and now look at him: his entire body turned into a playhouse of his kinkiest sexual fantasies! Guy felt nothing but pride.

“You knew Mikey from last year, right?” asked Samantha, a clearly high-maintenance fresher girl who had moved in last week. “Maybe you can get through to him.”

“Why?” Guy asked, wondering what seemed to be so urgent.

“You need to let him know that we don’t want to see his belly hanging out anymore. He’s just bent down into the refrigerator and I had about four inches of his butt crack staring back at me!”

Guy laughed. “Is that all?” he sighed in relief. “I thought something was wrong.”

Samantha exhaled in shock. “Something is wrong!” she blasted. “He can’t be allowed to keep walking around in clothes that are that tight! It’s disgusting!”

“Leave him be,” Guy shrugged. “You don’t need to be around him if you don’t want to.”

“There are some guys who make fun of him on his course,” Samantha pressed on. “If he’d just wear a damn sweatshirt or something to try and make himself look like less of a target, I’m sure they’d leave him alone.”

At this, Guy stood up from his chair, suddenly filled with anger. “Who’s been making fun of him?” he demanded, ready to go and see to them, right there and then.

“Mikey is the one who needs speaking to!” Samantha shot back. “Go ask him who the guys are. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

Shaking his head with annoyance, Guy stormed down the corridor and let himself into Mikey’s room without even knocking. The boy was sitting at his desk, still pushing a large tray of cream cakes he had collected from the refrigerator when he had offended Samantha so much. He turned in surprise, seeing Guy bursting in on him like this.

“Who’s making fun of you on your course?” Guy asked, closing the door behind him.

Mikey smiled; his chubby cheeks and chin showing all the more. “Oh, you heard about that?” he chuckled. “A couple of the new freshmen: Dan and Alec.”

“You’ll need to point them out to me,” Guy demanded, clearly annoyed. “I’ll soon sort them out.”

Mikey’s face was one of pure amusement. “Not everything is a problem that needs fixing,” he simply replied, pushing a cream cake into his mouth.

“What is it they say to you?” Guy pressed on.

Mikey chewed and swallowed. “Oh, lots of things!” he giggled. “Fat Boy, Pig, Piggy, Lardass!”

Guy could feel his heart beating faster with frustration However, Mikey seemed entirely relaxed and happy. “Wait a minute…” Guy stopped him. “Is this one of those things..?” he pondered. “Are you… Do you get off on this? The guys treating you that way?”

Mikey raised his eyebrows cheekily, not needing to say anything further.

“That’s why your clothes are so tight this year, isn’t it? You actually want people to comment?” Guy asked next, feeling like he had delved further than ever before into the mind of his part-time lover.

Again, Mikey only pressed a cake into his mouth and smirked.

Guy felt all the pent-up frustration in him release. A great wave of affection for Mikey swept through him and he reached out a hand to pull the chubby boy up from his chair, leaning him back into his great arms like he was trying to seduce him all over again. “You’re the kinkiest little fucker I’ve ever come across,” he smiled with delight. “You know that right?”

Mikey swallowed and grinned back. “You started this,” he stated, rubbing his easily accessible belly fat as his overly short t-shirt rode up.

Guy looked down at the boy’s gut and nodded. “I sure did!” he teased. “And what a good piggy you’ve turned out to be!” he smirked, trying the word out now he knew a little more about how it excited Mikey.

The chub seemed to melt into him further. They kissed and then quickly undressed for the inevitable.

The Spring was upon them once again as Guy invited Mikey over to his room for a quiet evening together. Mikey always seemed more aroused to be in Guy’s room for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Guy had fucked and pleasured so many people between those sheets of his. The large athlete was sitting propped up against the headboard, romantically caressing Mikey as he leant against his naked chest and watched a movie with him.

Watching movies was not usually Guy’s thing. He’d often been accused of having an attention difficulty in school, making him restless and troublesome in class, despite the high grades he always came away with. But here, with Mikey, Guy felt complete relaxation, rubbing that fat stomach that had been grown for him and laughing together at the funny parts of the picture.

“There’s actually a gainer event happening not too far away in a couple of months,” Mikey explained, scrolling through his cell phone.

“When is it?” Guy asked. “I can take you.”

Mikey mumbled nervously. “I’m not so sure it’s my thing…” he fretted. “I’d be too nervous.”

At this, Guy laughed. “Nervous? You?” He rubbed Mikey’s large stomach. The boy was now a full one hundred and twenty pounds heavier than he had been when the pair met over eighteen months ago, standing at a full two hundred and sixty pounds despite his fairly average height. He’d battled name-calling, family disapproval and public wardrobe malfunctions aplenty. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

Again, Mikey grumbled in disagreement.

Guy quickly did an internet search on his cell phone and found it himself. “There!” he declared a minute later, putting his cell phone back on the bed beside him. “Two tickets. One for me, and one for my lardass!” he teased, kissing Mikey on the back of his head and squeezing him once more. “I’lll book us a nice hotel later too.” Picking up a few modelling jobs had definitely helped make Guy’s life a little easier of late, and there was no one who deserved a treat more.

As the date approached, Mikey had gone into a frenzy of calorie consuming, determined to look the part for a gainer event. The boy was just a frustrating couple of pounds shy of three hundred when Guy took his chubby little hand and led him inside.

Guy had never seen so many huge men in the same room and they eyed him suspiciously until they saw that his hand was placed appreciatively on Mikey’s broad butt as they stood to the side of the dancefloor.

“There are still quite a few small guys,” Guy whispered to Mikey, who had been worried about not being fat enough for weeks. “A few dad bods with only a little gut to show for themselves.”

Mikey nodded, feeling better and more relaxed as others started coming up to them, wanting to know their story.

“That person’s been checking you out all night,” Guy nodded over at a slender and handsome man in the corner.

“No he hasn’t,” Mikey shot back.

“Trust me, when people aren’t checking me out, I notice,” Guy replied. “He’s definitely interested in you.”

Mikey smiled, rather flattered.

“Who knows, he might be open to a little…” Guy winked, having learned recently that Mikey had a small fantasy about having a threesome. Guy waved his arm and beckoned the man over to them, despite Mikey’s nervous protests.

The admirer introduced himself as Henry and he admitted to having attended plenty of these types of events in the last few years. “What’s your weight?” he asked Mikey; an outrageous question in any other circumstances but these.

Guy jumped in to answer. “He’s just hit three-twenty,” he lied. He was only one hundred and forty pounds two years ago.”

“That’s impressive!” Henry nodded, clearly more interested than ever.

“He’s been a high achiever his whole life,” Guy smiled, wrapping his strong large arm over Mikey’s shoulders with pride.

Henry wanted to know more about their situation and circumstances. Were they an item? Was it casual? Was Guy really a feeder? But when the time came to ask him if he wanted to come back to the hotel with them, Henry did not decline. They stopped for takeout on the way, with Henry very clearly getting off on how much Mikey was able to eat: being so assertive with the chub, clearly setting high expectations from the start. Then they all headed back, making every pleasurable second all about Mikey; just as he deserved.

At the end of another summer, Guy and Mikey embarked upon their final year of college. Mikey’s weight had continued to creep up, with his face now properly framed by a large double chin and his upper arms finally starting to puff up and broaden him up a bit.

“I actually met up with Henry a couple of times this summer,” Mikey explained casually as the pair of them lay awkwardly facing each other on the narrow single bed in Guy’s room.

Guy instantly felt ashamed of the giant wave of jealousy that washed over him. He’d slept with a countless number of people during their casual sex games of the last two years, yet he begrudged Mikey even this little thing in return. Still, he tried not to show his feelings, diligently asking questions and smiling encouragingly, as if this was all positive news.

“Henry really knows how to push me to eat,” Mikey went on. “I’ve never eaten as much in my life! And it was all the type of stuff that he knew would only make me fatter.”

Guy nodded, concealing the inadequacy he felt. He’d never really been what Mikey had wanted. He only knew the absolute basics of the feedism kink Mikey was so into and had, for the most part, got away without having to sit through many of the tedious feeding sessions Mikey seemed to enjoy so much. This whole affair with Mikey had started because Guy hadn’t wanted anyone to take the champion blow-job boy away from him, yet he had unknowingly opened the floodgates during that fairly average threesome he had been a part of back at the gainer event. “Are you meeting up with him again?” he asked casually.

“He’s coming here in December,” Mikey squeaked excitedly. “But he’s given me strict instructions to continue to eat and grow before then. I honestly think he wants me to be absolutely huge!”

Guy smiled back at him, despite the sadness he felt. Mikey was undoubtedly slipping away from him.

That December, Guy had been away with the football team during the weekend of Henry’s visit. Even so, Mikey’s weight had continued to increase at an almost alarming rate, both before and after the feeder had called over. It had been spurred on by the many messages and video calls the pair had made, despite the great geographical distance between them. Guy had so many other things on his mind, he tried to convince himself that it didn’t bother him, but he was never fully successful. Mikey himself was now entirely unrecognisable, coated with giant amounts of fat all over his body. His frame had widened, with fat spilling out from his round gut and his nipples sagging right onto his swollen midsection. He walked slowly about the campus, usually carrying a backpack filled with fattening supplies from the nearby supermarket in order to further his weight gain. Likewise, Henry had begun ordering fast food to the dorms, increasing Mikey’s intake even more and ensuring that the boy had surpassed three hundred and eighty pounds by April.

Guy knew that he couldn’t get away with avoiding Henry a second time when he stopped by for an entire week that Spring, just before the final exam season got underway. The conversation was polite, but it was obvious that Henry wanted more time alone with Mikey, rather than having Guy tagging along.

“Let’s be real…” Henry stated at the end of the week, taking advantage of the fact that Mikey had gone to the bathroom at the restaurant he was treating the two of them to a meal at. “You’re not actually a feeder, are you?”

“What does that matter?” Guy shrugged. “I’ve done pretty well getting Mikey’s weight up. He would still be that skinny little twig if it wasn’t for me.”

Henry shook his head and laughed. “No he wouldn’t!” he replied dismissively. “Mikey is a fat boy, through and through! I’ve never come across anyone like him. If you hadn’t been there, he would have found some other excuse to start piling the pounds on. It’s just in him. He’s meant to be absolutely enormous.”

Guy didn’t have a response. In reality, he’d known as much from the very beginning. Mikey had never needed much encouragement to overeat, and he’d always seemed propelled to fatten by some force greater than a basic kinky subservience kink to Guy himself.

“I’m going to ask him to move with me to Phoenix when he finishes college next month,” Henry announced; his tone one of uncompromising assertiveness.

“Phoenix?” Guy gasped in alarm. “But I’ll never see him!”

“What the hell did you think he was going to do when he finished college? You’ve got a job lined up here in the city, but what is there for Mikey? He doesn’t have any family here. You really expected him to just hang around for you?”

Guy exhaled, knowing that they couldn’t carry the conversation on with the fattened Mikey trotting back towards the table. He ground his teeth together, wondering how best to fight this plan to uproot Mikey’s entire life and move him to Phoenix. But then he witnessed the boy’s delight the next day as Henry made the offer, and witnessed the tears days later as Henry had to leave him once more. It was over. Mikey had found the one he was really meant to be with.

“You’ll come and visit me, right?” Mikey asked as Guy dropped the last of Mikey’s stuff in the back of Henry’s truck a few weeks later.

“Of course I will,” Guy nodded, trying to hold back on how cut up he felt that his time with Mikey was now over. “Just you try and stop me!”

The pair hugged warmly.

Next, Henry came up and shook Guy’s hand. Despite the silent animosity between them, there was an air of respect. Henry had been right, after all. Mikey needed a lot more than Guy could give him. This was the life that the fat boy coveted and deserved. But Henry was no idiot either. He knew what Guy was giving up; that he had fallen in love with the boy, and that his love was not returned; at least, not in the same way.

“Come on, Fatso!” Henry smiled, patting Mikey on his wide, blubbery butt. “We’d best hit the road.”

Guy stood looking into the distance long after the truck went out of sight. One very massive chapter of his life had just ended, and another was about to begin.

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