#here you are my friend!! thank u for your patience!!!!

[luvwestwood]

"AFK" - Choso Kamo (with twt links)

"..like fortnite, i’ma need your skin.."

3,012 words.

warnings. nsfw(18+), bf/gamer! choso, oral sex (m rec.), humiliation, desk sex, exhibitionism, trying not to get caught, feral choso, p in v, throat fucking, oral sex (m receiving), overstimulation, degradation, choso whimper links included lol,

notes. my previous drabble abt choso had a lil kick to it, definitely had to make it into a full one-shot! hope u guys enjoy, and thank u for 450 followers hehe, so I included twt links! ^^

credits to @/plutism for dividers, @/adrienwithane for banner.

russian translation by @juliabelll ❤️

Not too long ago, it was Choso's birthday. Being an amazing girlfriend you are, of course you built him a brand new PC. It cost you an arm and a leg, but that didn't matter at all when it came to Choso. Seeing him happy itched a part of your brain, especially when he was the one who would pay for everything: dates, your online shopping carts, you name it.

He never really bought anything for himself. You were getting tired of the countless times that he went on a tangent about how slow his previous machine was. It was doing your head in, so you saved up. For what you now call a 'not-blessing-in-disguise'.

Choso was obsessed with his new PC, and it wasn’t an exaggeration. Part of you was starting to regret it all. The man barely paid attention to you.

Am I the asshole for being mad that my boyfriend likes his gift a bit too much? No, I wouldn't think so. I should be delighted, but it's pretty much getting outrageous.

The fact that he has almost every single game out there on that PC in just a span of one week since he got it - means there's more for him to do. Every day, he'd wake up, do a bit of house stuff then sit his ass down to play with his friends. For as long as he can. Never leaving that room. Hell, he wouldn't even bother answering your messages until an hour later. 'Mb, was on the game' is something that was engraved in your brain by now.

Every time you'd come over, he'd ignore you simply by just gluing his eyes on the screen. If you try to nap, just go home. You've lost track of how many times he's managed to wake you up with his blood-curdling screams. There were times when Choso didn't even notice you leaving, which upset you quite a bit.

Of course, you had moments when you needed him the most. Like, badly. Freshly shaved, he's not even mentally there to take a peek. You could be naked and oiled up in his bed, Choso wouldn't even bat an eye.

…Advice to self, don't get him a PS5 this Christmas.

"Choso," You called out, sat on the edge of the bed behind him. No answer. Per usual, you wanted to rip that headset off his head.

Dark circles were forming around his eyes, endless cans of monster were scattered all over his desk. "Nah let's just fight Oscar, we've got a minute until the circle closes."

Rolling your eyes, a scoff escapes your mouth. Aaand he didn't hear you. Crossing your arms, you furrow your brows. He was honestly testing your patience. "Choso?!"

Choso flinches a bit, pulling one side of his headset away from his ear. His gaming chair spins around to face you. "Baby?"

He knew you were mad. You looked more than pissed. It was really because this recurring behavior of his was getting too much. "Your eyes are always on that screen! Did you even know that I was here!?”

“I-I’m sorry. Look, I'll get off after this game!” From his headset you could hear Choso’s friends teasing and picking on him. They probably heard you scolding your poor boyfriend. You couldn’t care less.

As soon as you were about to speak, he immediately spun his chair back around to face that stupid monitor again. He was too engrossed in the game. It was his squad of four against the only opposing team.

Groaning, you flop back onto his mattress. "..You always say that, and you never do." Muttering under your breath, you stare at the ceiling blankly. What felt like a hammer to your head, Choso's war cries could only get louder each second.

The past few days, you had no choice but to use your own fingers to toy with yourself. You were needy, and you missed your boyfriend's touch. Too bad he was too occupied. How come his keyboard and mouse get to be touched by him more than your....

Using all of your strength, you sat yourself up again on the edge of his mattress. Realizing there's no use in scolding him, you quietly walked up behind Choso, combing your fingers through his hair. You loved when it was down, and he loved it when you played with his hair. He found it relaxing. You could tell by the way his body was no longer tensed up, the back of his head falling heavy onto your hand.

Your hands left his hair, travelling down to his nape. With your freshly manicured nails (which he paid for), you gently scratched his skin on his neck. You could see goosebumps forming, but said nothing about it. Choso who was ticklish, tilted his head to the side - "Mmm," He hummed, telling you off as you were starting to distract him.

Letting out a laboured sigh, you stared at the back of his head. Wondering what to do with him, you pouted. Maybe I should just leave like every other day? No, I can't back down.

He seems really busy. Would he even notice if I crawled under his desk? Grinning, you got on your knees, crawling like a kitty underneath his desk but making minimal noise. You glanced behind your shoulder to see his reaction, but his eyes were still gawking at the flashing screen in front of him.

Coming face to face with his sweats, you kneeled, just in level with his lap. Peeking your head out from the shadows under his desk, Choso had only noticed you then. His eyes widened, the sight of you looking up at him like a puppy had started to cloud up his thoughts.

Grabbing onto his wrist, he slowly let go of his mouse. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he took it in the palm of his hand, eventually giving in and using his thumb to softly caress your lips. "..I missed you, Choso.." You whispered, softly sucking on his thumb. "..I need you,"

His breath hitched, your words were doing something to him. What a fool he was for ignoring you all this time? Just then, a cacophony of voices screaming through his headset broke him out of his trance. Choso's warm hand left your face, causing you to frown. Your fun was cut short. Way too short.

You had enough, deciding it was time you finally got what you wanted. Snaking your two hands up the soft cotton of his sweats, they stopped right at his crotch. His eyes anxiously shot down to you underneath him, telling you off and pointing to his headset.

Placing a finger onto your lips, you told him to just be quiet. His eyes frantically flickered from you, then to his monitor. Slowly, you slid down his pants. Smiling at the way he rose himself up from his seat slightly, so it would be easier to take them off. Of course, he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Taking his long, thick cock into your hands, you jerked it ever so slightly. Choso cleared his throat, keeping his mouth shut all of a sudden in case he accidentally makes unwanted noise. He was practically melting under your touch, into the chair. Gliding your tongue over his pink tip, he didn't dare look at you. Not long after, your warm mouth wrapped over him, Choso letting out a sigh of relief at the feeling.

You knew how to push his buttons, bringing yourself to fully deepthroat his cock for a few seconds. His lips purse shut, Choso slightly biting down onto his bottom lip. His fingers started to press on the wrong keys, unable to focus on the game.

Pulling away, a string of saliva connected your tongue and his aching tip. You brought your lips back onto his cock, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you used your two hands to jerk him off at the same time.

The man above was folding at the pornographic sight underneath him. Hearing Choso moan by accident, he quickly covered it up with a cough. “…Yeah, no, I’m good- Just don’t- feel well..”Friends concerned, Choso had come up with a convincing lie in just seconds. His hand reached down to rake through your hair until his fist was full of it. [link]

He lightly pushed your head up and down his length, your mouth making sloppy noises all over, buckets of spit dripping down your chin and his balls.

Ripping his headset off, Choso didn't care about the game anymore. Or his friends. He groaned as you fondled with his balls, giving them a suck afterwards. His light grey pants were turning a darker shade than before. His two hands clawed into your hair on both sides of your face, Choso started to fuck his cock into the back your throat.

Moaning, his eyes shut tightly as his head fell back onto the cushion of his chair. His balls tightening as he heard how you constantly gagged over his thick cock. "Fuck.. Just like that.."

His moans were a mixture of curses and long groans, tears started to well up in your eyes. Choso opened his eyes again, looking down at you as he drew your mouth away from his cock. He smiled, seeing your makeup all ruined, your face covered with spit and so did his lap.

Rolling his chair away from the desk, he grabbed you from underneath. Only to pull it back again, placing it in front of his PC. Guiding his hand on your back, he bent you over on the chair, making your two legs kneel on the soft cushion so you wouldn't tire out. [link]

Holding tightly onto your hair, your head fell back towards him. Choso had ripped the fabric of your leggings that was unfortunately covering your cunt. Grabbing his cock, he lined himself up with your hole, his hands shaking from how eager he was.

Easily sliding in from the slick that covered your hole, you grabbed onto the arm rest in front of you; Choso stretching you out completely. Wasting no time, he began to move his hips back and forth, fucking his hard cock into you.

His monitor started to gently shake from how hard his cock was bullying into you, skin slapping as his balls that were full of weeks load cum made contact with your clit.

"C-Choso.." You cried out, your hand reaching back to his pelvis. Staring at yourself getting fucked like a slut through the reflection of his PC monitor, your ass rippled with each and every one of his thrusts.

Maintaining his brutal pace, his fingers were no longer woven into your hair, reaching out to the headset on his desk. Confused, you kept your eyes open to watch Choso place them over your head. "W-What..?"

His hands gripped onto the flesh of your hips, Choso leaned into your ear. "Keep moaning you slut, let them hear you." All of a sudden he groaned, feeling you clench around him at what he just said. "You like that, don't you?"

Spinning you slightly to one side, his leg went up onto the chair with you, allowing him more leverage to fuck you deeper. "Eyes up at that camera too, show them how pretty you look taking my cock," Tears started to stream down the sides of your cheeks, your face had flushed red.

Choso's hands took a hold of your hair again, his tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. "I.." Speechless, you lost your ability to form a basic sentence. His fat cock left you braindead, at this point you were seeing nothing but stars.

"..Use your words baby," A creamy white ring started to form at his base as his cock pistoned in and out of you. Choso's hand kept stamping down on your back from time to time to make sure you kept that arch. "..Isn't this what you've been wanting all week?"

"Y-you're so deep.. I can't.." Your hand reached back to his abs, twisting the white fabric of his tank top until it was all wrinkly. He took a hold of your wrist, twisting your arm behind you. Choso slightly bent over, his warm body resting against your back.

He quietly groaned into your ear, chanting your name like a prayer. You were fucked out of your mind. "You feel so good.. like this pussy was made for me." The pace of his thrusts slowed down, but his hips still rut into you hard each time. His strokes hard and deep, you swear could feel him all up in your guts. Your jaw had dropped, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

Choso's hands reached under your loose shirt, letting your tits spill out of your bra. Gently twisting your nipple between his finger tips, fondling with your whole breast afterwards, he forgot how much he loved wrapping his mouth around those.

"Your cock.. It feels so good.." You babbled, Choso sneaking his fingers underneath to rub lazy circles on your clit. Your legs began to tremble, fortunately your throat managed to choke out a whine.

Also seeing him in the reflection of his monitor, strands of his hair started to stick to his face. Multiple beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. Choso didn't want to leave your pussy. Not even Thor could pull him out. He enjoyed using you like a cock whore.

You felt so dizzy, mind full of his cock. Choso let out multiple whimpers as he felt his orgasm nearing, his index finger hooking onto the side of your mouth. The very last few seconds, his cock bottomed into you, trying to chase your orgasm. The desk hitting against he wall non-stop, his headset that was on you started to fall off your head.

Leaving a trail of wet kisses down your back, his hand grabbed onto the plush flesh of your ass, continuously giving it a spank every now and then.

The wet, slapping noises of your skin continued to follow, until you felt his thrusts come to a sudden halt. His hot cum shooting inside of you rope after rope, just before he pulled out to let the rest out onto your ass. "..Fuck.. look at that."

Using his thumb to spread your hole wide open, his load spilt onto the black leather of his gaming chair. You panted, tired and hole throbbing. You got what you wanted, that’s for sure. Forcing his headset off you, you couldn't do anything but lean against his desk, trying to regulate your breathing pattern back to normal.

"..We're not done here," Choso laughed behind you, your cunt still dripping of his thick load. His hands roughly turned your body around, placing you on top the desk to face him. Using his foot to push the chair away, he lined his cock with your hole again, using his cum that was already inside of you as lube.

"Oh m-my- Choso!" You yelped, one hand taking grip onto his shoulder for support, the other holding knocking his keyboard out of the way, trying to find something to hold onto other than his shoulder.

His forehead rested against yours, the staggering movement of his hips causing the desk itself to shake under the two of you. Choso watched as his cock disappeared in and out of your hole, grunts coming out through his clench teeth as he wrapped his large hands around your thighs. He wanted more, and wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

"..Good girl," He gritted through his teeth, "..I love t-this pussy, and you." Choso's hands pressed flat against the desk, his lips locking onto yours. His cock was coated in a mixture of his and your own cum, your sweaty bodies intimately hugging against each other.

Choso wanted to feel all you, he just craved more and more each minute. His hands shakily held onto the sides of your waist, his lips moving to your jaw to plant more kisses.

"You're so beautiful, look at me baby." Choso lightly tapped the side of your face, telling you to maintain eye contact.

Obeying, you kept your eyes open; looking into his but not a thought behind your own eyes. You only continued to whine under his touch, overstimulated from how much he's used you like a cock whore. You were so close to losing your mind, drunk off his cock.

Choso too, was lost in your pussy. God, was he whipped— If only he could stay inside you forever, he definitely would. This whole time he was busy cursing at himself, how much of an idiot he is to not appreciate what he has - you. Your cheeks were stained with your hot tears, Choso hushing you and wiping them away every now and then.

“S-Shit, I’m gonna cum again.” He pants, feeling his balls tighten for the second time, the tightness of your pussy heightening his stimulation.

Your hands cupped both of his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. His thrusts turning sloppy, you cooed. “..Cum for me, I want it all inside..”

This caused the coil inside of Choso to snap, him desperately whimpering into your ear as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “F-fu-ck..” Tightly holding onto the flesh of your hips, he made sure his second load stayed inside of you.

Sliding his cock out, Choso rested his heavy cock just above your pussy. Making sure he planted a peck on your forehead, trying to catch his breath. The two of you laugh, your bodies aching and sweaty, his entire desk and chair a mess.

Reaching for something, you blinked as Choso grabbed his headset that ended up on the other side of the desk. Placing one side against his ear, he spoke into the mic. "..GG."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me 🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[wetbananapeel]

Today has been one of my favorite days of this year so far I think :)

It started off good cause I woke up before my alarm and took my time waking up because of it and wasn't rushed to get out the door. I listened to the Affirmations Song by Snoop Dogg on my morning drive (an essential element is that while it was playing as loud as my speakers can play, I was also screaming the affirmations as loud as I could with all of my windows down). A local musician dropped one of my favorite songs of theirs on Spotify during this drive also. It's significant because I previously could only listen to this song live as they don't have much recorded music out yet. But because I have heard it so many times live and with friends, the song is so meaningful because of the memories and I'm so grateful I can now listen to it whenever. I truly adore my local music community <3 (I later shared my excitement for the song release on my story and the musician shared it on theirs which was also a good thing from today :)

I haven't gotten coffee out in a long while, so I got coffee AND had time to get breakfast from Taco Bell also (this was actually such a treat and felt extravagant). I went there and the person taking my order was a classmate from my painting class and I was so excited to see them. The cook who made my order upon passing it off said "this for your friend from painting class" and it made my heart feel warm <3

Then, if that wasn't such a phenomenal morning already, I got a lot done at work, but also put in my formal letter of resignation from my job as a supervisor. I am actually feeling quite a bit of relief that I have finished my contract; this semester has been such a draining semester for me emotionally and knowing the end is near gives me a lot of hope. I'm leaving because of a move and this makes it feel more real that I'm actually moving.

Then, and this is where the day really started to get better and better, I left work and met up with one of my dearest best friends. I was so excited to see her as I always enjoy her company. We searched for my new emotional support water bottle, as I still cannot find the lost one I have had for the past 3 years, and had to go to a few different places because I had specific criteria ✨ the bottle ✨ had to meet. Then, we went and got tacos at a local spot that I have many good memories at. It was a beautiful day and we ate outside. There were birds flying around our table, but a house sparrow lingered while eating a corn chip. Magical vibes only 💫

After tacos we went and ran some errands which included going into a pet's store for prescription cat food and seeing a cat (the first of three I seen today. Vvv grateful. How wonderful).

After our time concluded, I drove to another friend's house. This is also one of my dearest best friends and I hadn't seen him in quite some time and it was so good to hug him. Lately, hugging friends has felt so much more significant and because it had been nearly a month since I had seen him last, this one felt extra special.

We hung out at his house and baked two cakes, a lemon cake and a pineapple upside down cake, both of which were delicious, but the pineapple was the clear winner.

And we just talked while Wall-E was on in the background and it was so lovely. At that point, a third friend, and you guessed it, one of my dearest best friends, reached out to me to see if I had plans that evening and if I wanted to hang. I cannot tell you how heartwarming, meaningful, and significant it is to have the most dearest people in your life (these are all my core friends) all separately ask to hang out with you on the same day independent from one another. It means so much to be chosen by these people and to choose them in return. I am so grateful for these friends in particular and value the relationship I have with all of them so close to my heart.

But guess what? I was able to see all three of them also. What a marvelous thing. Truly. I feel so incredibly privileged to have these people in my life and spend time with each of them. I am grateful to be chosen by them. I love them all with such intensity it hurts. I am so glad they are all in my life. I truly feel very loved today.

When I got home, I washed my new emotional support water bottle and put the first band sticker on it. After I put that sticker on I was scrolling through Spotify and seen that that exact band who's sticker I just placed on the bottle had released an EP today also. And with the remaining time left on Friday, I listened to the EP. Literally the duration of the EP was the exact time that was left on Friday when I started listening. It was 11:43 and the EP was 17 minutes long. So, literally from the moment I got up till the end of today, all things have been good. What a blessing I'm not taking for granted. What a wonderful day?

Today has been nourishing in ways I'm too tired to articulate now, but it's definitely going in the books as one of my favorite days this year. I'm glad I took pictures <3

[uzurakis]

HERE TO SEND YOU BLUELOCK HEAD CANNONS! >:D

Can you do headcannons of the guys and how they would be like if they were teaching us how to play soccer? Hope this is interesting for you ^^, if you're interested to make them thanks in advance!

TEACHING YOU SOCCER?!

featuring: michael kaiser. itoshi rin. oliver aiku. isagi yoichi. bachira meguru.

n. yees darling, i was invested to write this (it's a challenging one because i don't really play soccer myself). hope i nailed it though, thank you to u too <3

MICHAEL KAISER. "nice shot!" kaiser exclaimed, clapping you on the back. "but don't get too cocky, mein liebling."

"learned from the best, i guess," you teased, nodding toward kaiser. "after all, my boyfriend's the world's number one striker, hmm?"

kaiser's eyes widened in mock surprise, a beam spreading across his face. "well, when you put it that way," he said, puffing out his chest with pride and sliding back his golden locks. "i suppose i am pretty amazing."

"ah, but if i'm the world's number one striker," he continued, trying to tease you with words, "then that must mean you have to kneel before me, right?"

you lifted an eyebrow, unable to stop snickering at his exaggerated claim. "huh, is that so?" playing along with his joke. "i guess i'll have to remember to bow down to the soccer king himself."

the guy grinned, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "that's more like it," now his voice filled with mock superiority, typical kaiser. "but don't worry, i'll be a generous king."

ITOSHI RIN. "fine, i'll try my best, but just so you know, i'm not really good at teaching," rin confessed, feeling apologetic because he’s not used to teaching others. and now, his girlfriend wants to learn how to play soccer.

rin took a deep breath, trying to muster up some confidence as he began to explain the basics of dribbling. "uh, alright, first, dribbling. just try to keep the ball close to your feet for now," he instructed, a bit hesitant.

"oi, dont look at me, look at the ball," he reminded you. "sorry," you chuckled, truly didn't realize you weren't paying attention. come on, just look at him. "if i’m being honest, you look really hot like this," you teased, but, it’s true though!

rin's cheeks flushed slightly at your comment, but he quickly regained his composure. "focus," he replied. though there was a hint of annoyance, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at rin's face as he continued to give you instructions, his cheeks flushed slightly from your earlier comment.

suddenly, rin's voice broke through your reverie, snapping you back to reality. "i said focus!"

OLIVER AIKU. "keep your eye on the ball and follow through with your kick," aiku instructed while you attempted to pass the ball to him.

even when you struggled or made mistakes, aiku remained patient and supportive, offering gentle guidance to help you improve. "try to angle your foot a bit more next time," he suggested, as you missed the mark with your pass. "you're doing great, sweetie. just keep practicing."

by the end of the session, you were exhausted but thankful for aiku's patience and support. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, a proud smile on his lips.

"you're making progress, sweetie," he soothed, genuine and affectionate. "with a little more practice, you'll beat me out here."

BACHIRA MEGURU. "okaaay, let's start with some dribbling drills," he said, bachira was overjoyed since this meant he had another friend to play soccer with. "try to keep the ball under control as you move around me, kaay?"

you nodded, determined to give it your best shot. as you began to dribble the ball, you stumbled a bit, but bachira was quick to offer a push. "nice job, baby! you're getting the hang of it," he cheered, clapping his hands in support.

with each effort, you gained confidence and dribbled past bachira with greater ease. bachira congratulated you on your small wins every time you successfully escaped him. "woah, that was awesome! baby, i’m so happy!" he exclaimed, giving you a high-five.

"great effort, babes! keep it up, and you'll get it," he encouraged, his words filling you with determination. “lets keep playing together!”

ISAGI YOICHI. "hey, it's okay," isagi said gently, stepping closer to you. "here, let me show you."

he moved behind you and gently guided your legs into the correct position, his touch firm yet gentle. "see? keep your body low and your touches light," he explained, moving your legs in rhythm with the ball. "you've got this, angel.”

with isagi's guidance, you began to feel more confident, dribbling the ball with increasing control. whenever you made a mistake, your boyfriend always offered gentle correction and encouragement.

"nice try, but try to keep the ball closer to your feet," he would say, his tone encouraging. "like this," demonstrating the correct form before guiding your legs to mimic his movements.

@uzurakis

[lewisvinga]

L.O.V.E | alex albon x fem! reader x lily muni he

summary; no matter how many times they try to send hints, y/n couldn’t understand alex and lily’s advanced until a certain pair of brits decided to help their friends out

fc; znefer_ on ig

warnings; cursing

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

note; requested !

masterlist !

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liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: in my pilates princess era 🩰🌷

username: here before alex and lily simp over y/n

username: their comments are the highlight of my day tbh

alex_albon: you’re the prettiest princess💗

yourusername: why thank u albono🫶🫶

username: girl….

lilymhe: wow😍😍😍😍😍

yourusername: lilssss💖💖

username: she probably just thinks lily is just simply complimenting her omg bless her 😭😭😭😭

username: ugh she’s gorgeous no wonder lily and alex r obsessed w her😩

username: pilates girlies>>>>

username: the headband + straight hair combo rlly eats

username: I LOVE U Y/N

carmenmmundt: take me to pilates w you next time!!

yourusername: lmk when you’re freeeee

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liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, and others

yourusername: g’morning 🤎

alex_albon: good morning, how’d u sleep pretty girl🥰

yourusername: amazing! thank u for asking alexxxx💗💗

username: he’s DOWN BAD LMAOO

lilymhe: bed must’ve been pretty cold, bet i know a few people who can warm it up😁

yourusername: surprisingly cats emit a lot of body heat!!😅😅

username: y/n not taking the hint, fork found in kitchen

username: the hair is HAIRING

username: im in tears alex and lily try soooo hard😭😭😭😭

username: isn’t it weird that they both like y/n?

username: who gaf as long as it makes them happy 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

username: the hair😍😍

username: she’s so pretty i rlly understand why alex n lily are so obsessed 😩

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liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: i finally got the hint ??!!

tagged; alex_albon, lilymhe

lilymhe: hey pretty girl ur alllll ours now😁🤭

yourusername: alllll yours 💗 luv u

lilymhe: LUV U MY PRETTY GIRL😩😩💗💗💗💓🧡❤️💙🤎💕💕💖💖❤️❣️💜🩶

username: i think she broke lily

username: LMAOOO LILY😭😭😭

alex_albon: don’t know how many ‘you’re such a good friend!’ i could handle before going crazy, doesn’t matter now bc now we have you😌❤️❤️

yourusername: i would like to sincerely apologize for bein so slow😞😞 but at least u both have me :p ! 💓💓

username: finally she admits she was being slow i thought us talking abt their crushes in her comments was enough for her to get the hint 😭😭

username: OMG FINALLYYY

username: lily and alex’s patience fr worked

username: ugh they’re all so fine

username: it only took you months babe !!!

georgerussell63: uhm EXCUSE ME???

landonorris: ikr😒😒😒😒

yourusername: thank u guys for making me realize the truth😁

alex_albon: i can’t believe these dumbasses fr did it

lilymhe: THANK U BOTH

landonorris: fuck u alex_albon WE PLAYED CUPID FOR YOU

username: not lando and george helping 😭

username: my 2019 rookies ❤️‍🩹

username: george and lando are so sassy LMAOO

[jiniretracha]

I Don't Want You Like a Best Friend - Lee Felix

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: smut!!, fluff (like so much), angst (if you squint), felix and readers being oblivious idiots in love.

Summary: You have been in love with Felix, your best friend, since the first time you laid your eyes on him. But you never said anything about it, too afraid to ruin your friendship that you treasured so much. So, when a pretty boy asks you out on a date, you accept, figuring it is the best way to get over your stupid crush. But your best friend doesn't seem so happy about it. Based on "Dress" by Taylor Swift.

Word Count: 6k

PS: I uploaded this on AO3 and thought it'd be fun to post it here as well!

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

There’s an indentation in the shape of you

“And? What do you think?” 

Felix lifted his head up as he heard you walking inside the room once again wearing the dress. His eyes widened and his heart started beating faster and louder. His gaze raked your body up and down a couple of times and he tried to play nonchalant.

“U-uh, you look very pretty, Y/N. He’ll love it” Felix smile.

Yes. He’ll love it. 

Truth is, you had met this cute guy at the coffee shop you and Felix frequently visit before you drop him at the studio every day. His name was Ashton. He had a charming smile and he had been brave enough to ask you for your phone number while complimenting your looks. You were almost a stuttering mess while you typed in your number in his phone, then he winked and left the coffee shop, leaving you with a slight blush in your cheeks. 

Felix had returned to you with both of your orders with a smile. You told him about Ashton and he had promised he would help you with him. Later that day, he asked you out on a date. Today’s date. 

You turned around and looked at yourself in the mirror, you liked the dress. It was a pretty cream colour with little flowers on it, a heart-like cleavage and lace on the pretty top. 

You were oblivious to Felix’s adoring eyes behind you. He was trying to memorize every single detail of your beautiful form. The heavy stone in his stomach was a bother, it was pure jealousy. And sadness too. 

He would’ve given anything to be the one who takes you on dates. 

“Thank you, Lix” you smiled at him. “Could you pass me those earrings please?”

“Of course, darling” he said, standing up and walking towards your nightstand. He came back with the earrings and gave them to you, as you smiled and thanked him. 

As you put the earrings on your earlobes, you started thinking. How would you like for Felix to be the one who is taking you on this date. You would love to be with him. It’s the only thing you’ve yearned and craved for years. You’d give up anything for Felix to crumble into his knees and beg you not to go. 

To stay with him. To be with him. 

You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You noticed that he hadn’t stopped staring at you. Why doesn’t he say something?

You turned to look at him and your gazes met. His breathing turned a little choppy, from the nervousness. He pressed his lips together, like he was about to say something and your eyebrows arched in desperation. 

“I-“

And then your phone started ringing. You clenched your eyelids and grabbed your phone that was sitting face up on the bed, making Felix catch who was calling: Ashton. 

“Hey” you said after clearing your throat. 

“Hey, Y/N” Ashton said. Felix frowned. No ‘pretty’, no ‘beautiful’, just Y/N. “I’m right outside, would you mind coming down?”

“Of course. Give me a couple of minutes” you faked a smile. He caught it. 

All of this silence and patience,

pining and anticipation

You got to the door and grabbed the keys. “I don’t even know why I’m nervous” you tried to shake off the anxiety lurking in your head. 

But Felix could read you like a fucking book. 

You weren’t nervous. 

You were aching. He knew you didn’t want to go. But why couldn’t he just say something?

“I- Y/N-“ he stammered. 

You looked into his eyes. “Yes?”

“I- I just-“

Ashton’s honk made you both startle. “What’s up?” you said impatiently. 

“N-nothing. Have a great time. Ashton’s really lucky” he said, giving you his signature tight-lipped smile and walking towards his room. 

You sighed as soon as he was out of view and pressed your eyes shut tightly, praying not to cry or else you would ruin your makeup. Or give yourself away. You opened the door and walked the steps of the stairs down. 

Felix locked himself in his room, his fists clenched against his sides as his back pressed itself to the door. He was so angry at himself. 

When did he become such a coward?

He heard commotion outside, from the open window of the balcony. He walked outside, and looked down. He saw Ashton, who had dark black hair, was big and bulky and was wearing formal clothes. 

Ashton was the total opposite as him. Felix had blonde hair, brown eyes and he liked to use beanies and wear baggy clothes with jewelry. 

Felix noticed that Ashton’s hands were empty. No flowers. 

He rolled his eyes. He just wished you would notice that he wasn’t right for you. Because what was right for you, was standing right above you. 

Staring hopelessly as you drove away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You arrived at the restaurant and Ashton led you towards the table he had reserved. 

“You like pizza, right?” he asked with a smile, as he sat down on his seat. 

With a blink of your eyes, you just stood staring at him. You were waiting for him to pull your chair out and help you in. Felix does that. You mentally rolled your eyes and smiled at him. “Yes, yes, I do” you slightly lied as you took a seat. It’s not that you didn’t like pizza… it’s just that it would’ve been nice if he’d ask you what you like. Felix would’ve- STOP. 

You scolded yourself mentally and tried to focus on the man in front of you. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“So, what music do you like?” Ashton asked. 

You put your glass down and smiled. “Oh, well, I’m into pop music, mostly. I like k-pop, too. A lot” you nodded. “My best friend’s in-“ you stopped yourself. 

“He’s…?” he trailed off waiting for you to continue. 

“He’s in a band”

“A k-pop band?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing with a smile.

“Yeah. They’re great, actually” you smiled. “What do you listen to?”

Ashton sighed. “Well, I’m into country music”

“Oh, like… what? Taylor Swift, Shania Twain, Little Big Town?” you asked, remembering a couple of bands and singers you liked.

“Nah, they sound too pop for me” he nodded with a shrug. “I’m more into Morgan Wallen”

Yikes.

“Right” you trailed off. 

“He’s great. You should listen to his music, actually” 

I pass. “Yeah, sure. I’ll listen to some of his stuff” you faked a promise. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every little thing he said or did, you compared it to what Felix did. He was so different from him.

Ashton kept talking and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes around his features. He was so different. He wasn’t ugly. Not at all. He was very handsome. You knew that you could easily date this guy. He was sweet. But he was nothing like him. He wasn’t Felix. 

“Hey, you okay?” Ashton woke you up from your daydreaming by putting his palm on top of the back of your hand. “You look like you were gone for a couple of seconds” he chuckled. 

You smiled slightly at him and then shook your head. “Y-yeah, it’s just uh-“

“Here you go, guys” the waiter came with their order. “A margherita with garlic” he said and placed the pizza in the middle of the table. 

“Thank you” Ashton nodded. 

Once the waiter was gone, Ashton smiled.

“Shall we?” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Felix was staring at his phone. 

He was busy texting Chan, who was the only person that he had confessed his feelings towards you. The other band members were aware, because Felix made it too obvious, but the blonde hadn’t said anything to them. 

Felix: I don’t know what to do, man.

Chan: Why didn’t you try to stop her?

Exactly. Why didn’t he try to stop her?

The answer was pretty simple.

Felix: Because I’m a coward.

Felix: That’s why.

He sighed, staring at the ceiling. It was eating him up. 

Chan: You’re not. But seriously, you need to tell her, man. 

He’s right. 

Chan: Or else, when will you do it? What if Y/N really likes the guy and decides to pursue a romantic relationship with him?

Shit. 

What if you really liked this dude?

Chan: Think about it. 

He really needed you home. 

He needed to tell you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You chewed on the pizza while Ashton was telling you an anecdote from one of his friends. You had lost the story’s thread a long time ago and at this point, you were just staring at his forehead with only one thing in mind: getting home to Felix. 

“Y/N?” he asked with a frown. 

Shit. This was like the third time you had zoned out. 

“Hey, are you okay? I promise I won’t get mad, but is there something going on?”

You bit your lip and then released it. “No- I mean, yes” you stammered. 

“What is it? Do you feel okay, do you-“

“No, Ashton, just-“ you cut yourself off with a huff. “I need to go home”

“Oh-“

“By myself” you clarified when you saw him start to grab his stuff. “I’m so sorry, really. You seem like a very good guy but-“

“You like someone else, am I right?” Ashton smiled sadly.

You pressed your lips together. “No.”

Ashton nodded. “You love someone else”

He wasn’t asking. It was a statement.

And then you nodded. 

“I get it. I do, too” Ashton said, his face red. “I- I’m sorry too. I used this excuse of a date to get over someone. And I’ve been trying so hard but-“

“You just can’t get them out of your head” you completed.

“Exactly” Ashton said with a chuckle.

“I know” you smiled. “I’m sorry”

“No, don’t apologise. I figured” he shrugged. 

“At least let me pay. I mean, you really tried to be nice and I just kept zoning out” You tried.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I promise”

“No, it’s not. Really” you pleaded.

Ashton smiled. “Alright. But only if we split the check… and I get to take the pizza home” he smirked.

You chuckled. “You got yourself a deal, mister”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Felix opened the kitchen cabinet and took out the brownie jar, leaving it on the counter. He then stared at it. 

You made your mark on me,

a golden tattoo

You were everywhere. Including in that stupid jar of brownies. It reminded him how he had made them for you. Because he knew you absolutely loved his baking. 

A key digging into the keyhole startled him and he put the jar away, choosing not to eat due to the heavy anxiety sitting at the pit of his tummy. 

You got inside the apartment, panting heavily. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he saw you close the door quickly and throw your stuff on the couch. “Hey, you’re home early. Everything okay?” he asked, getting worried. 

“I know… I’m fine” you said, getting nervous all of a sudden. 

Felix nodded, leaning against the counter. “How did it go?” he asked shyly. 

You sighed and looked away. “Um… terrible” you chuckled to yourself.

Felix felt ashamed, but he was kind of glad to hear that. “Oh. I’m- I’m sorry to hear that, darling” he told you, lying. 

“Well, I’m not” you said, feeling your heartbeat getting louder and faster by the second.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why’s that? Did he do something to you?” he asked, getting angry. 

“No, no, no” you quickly shook your head. “He was nice, and… polite. But he wasn’t… he just wasn’t…” you stammered. 

Felix started walking towards you. “Hey… tell me” he said, putting his hands on your bare shoulders. “He wasn’t what?”

You swallowed, feeling your throat getting dry, like sandpaper. “He just wasn’t you” you whispered.

But he caught it. He felt his heart drop. You couldn’t have just said that, did you?. “What?” he asked, confused. 

You looked away and took in a deep breath. “I was just dressing up for someone that I wish that it was you… I wished you would’ve told me not to go on that date. To stop me. I wish the date I went on today… I wish my date had been you, Felix” you confessed. 

He blinked a couple of times, trying to let the new information sink in, while his hands on your shoulders dropped to rest by his sides. 

“I kept… comparing him to you” you told him. “Every single thing he did, I just kept thinking what you would’ve done. Or said. Or the things he didn’t do, and how I know you would’ve done. Like- fuck, like pulling my chair for me to sit in” you chuckled slightly. “Cause you’re in my mind all the time. You’re all I think about, Lix. And it drives me crazy”

Felix shook his head. “Y/N-“

“I know. I’m sorry” you apologized. “This is a lot. I know. And I get it if you don’t feel the same, I do-“

Your rambling was cut short when a pair of hands grabbed your cheeks and pulled you into the most magical kiss of your entire life. He was holding your head still, angling it so he could kiss you as he liked, pushing his tongue into your mouth, while it curled with yours. His kiss had swallowed your surprised gasp, turning into a moan that vibrated against his lips. 

Felix pulled away from your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together as you panted from the intensity of your first kiss. 

“Y/N…” he mumbled in a desperate hush.

Say my name and everything just stops,

I don’t want you like a best friend

“I love you” he whispered, making you gasp internally. “I’ve always loved you, in fact. I was just- just so fucking terrified of you rejecting me and I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship” 

You smiled, shaking your head. “Felix… how is it possible that you didn’t notice how head over heels in love I am with you?” you asked him, with a chuckle.

Felix pressed a long kiss to your lips. “I love you” he said, looking into your eyes. “I-“ kiss. “love-“ kiss. “you-“ kiss. “so-“ kiss. “much” he finished with an open-mouthed kiss that made your knees wobble. 

His kiss made you warm inside… and another place. You shifted, pressing your thighs together as he continued kissing the life out of you. 

With a pant, you pulled away slightly, your noses rubbing against each other’s. “Lix…”

“Yeah?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your nose. 

“Take me to bed” you whispered.

He pulled his face back with a pained groan. “Y/N, I want to, I swear but… I wanna do this right. I want to take you out on a date and-”

“Me too, I know, but I need you right now. So bad” you pleaded, your eyes searching his. 

Felix was only human. He couldn’t resist such temptation, and the fact that you were literally begging him to fuck you. He saw it in your eyes. 

He took you by surprise by crouching down slightly, placing his palms on the back of your thighs and hoisting you up, making you squeal in surprise. You crossed your legs behind his back and pressed your lips against his as he walked with you in his arms towards his bedroom. 

You didn’t know how he managed to walk with you in his arms while kissing him without bumping into anything. He kicked the door open and walked towards the bed, throwing you into the center of it. You bounced on the mattress with a surprised gasp and stared at him with doe eyes as his hand went to the back of the neck from his shirt, pulling it over his head, and throwing it on the floor. 

Felix decided to give you a show and clenched his stomach, showcasing his very defined abs. 

That motherfucker, you thought to yourself. 

“See something you like?” he teased you, with a smirk, as he watched you stare deeply at his stomach.

Your eyes met his and you let your head fall onto your shoulder. “Oh, yeah, pretty much everything” you said, letting your eyes dance over his figure. 

Felix smirked and moved his hand to the belt of his jeans, unfastening it torturously slow and throwing it where he had thrown the shirt before. He then crawled up to your shivering frame and put his hands on each side of your head, dipping his head to catch your lips into a drugging kiss. 

Your hands grabbed at his back, trying to pull him to drop his weight on top of you and he obeyed, pressing his hips first so that his bulge was pressing against your crotch, making both of you groan. Your nails dug into his back as you continued kissing, definitely marking him up. 

His hands traveled to the edge of your dress, his hands dipping under it and caressing your soft skin. His kisses drifted to your neck, biting your soft flesh, making you gasp. 

“You’re so beautiful” he mumbled against your skin. He licked at a certain spot in your neck and then bit it, making your arch your back. “So, so beautiful” 

Suddenly, he pulled away completely, grabbing your arms to sit you up. He turned you around softly, making you kneel on the bed, facing the wall. His soft fingers caressed the zip of your dress, grabbing at it and slowly pulling it down all the way. His hands dipped inside of the dress and pulled it off, and he stared at your braless back. The dress was pooling at your waist by now and you swallowed, trying to find the courage to turn around and reveal yourself. 

He dropped a kiss to the side of your neck, sensing your nervousness. 

You turned around slowly, looking into his eyes, as his dropped down immediately to your chest, noticing how they were black at this point from lust. 

You felt nervous under his gaze and you couldn’t help but say something.

“It’s for you…” you breathed out. 

His eyes fluttered a couple of times and looked at you. “What?” he mumbled, confused. 

“I bought it for you. The dress…” you said, licking your lips and trying to find the words that were threatening to die on your throat. “I wanted you to see me in it… I wanted you to take it off from me” 

Only bought this dress so you could take it off. 

Felix let out a ragged breath out, cupping your face and bringing you into another drugging kiss. His hot breath hitting your upper lip and the way his hands slid from your cheeks to your back, made you arch your back and press your bare chest against his. The skin to skin contact made you shiver and you both groaned. 

Your hands were gripping his wrists, as he continued kissing you as he liked. 

His hands drifted to where your dress was sitting, bunched on your waist, and he grabbed it, pulling it off. 

The action made you stumble on the bed slowly on your back as you lifted your hips up so he could take off the dress completely.

Once he got it out, he chucked it on the floor and got on top of you once again. He dug his face into your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, and his mouth started to drift further down your body. At this point, he was leaving dark purple marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. 

His hot mouth stopped at the valley of your breasts, his hands enveloping each one and letting his thumb run across your nipple, making you shudder and let out a whine. 

Felix bit into your skin and then pressed your breasts together, burying his head into your chest, letting his lips suckle and bite at your nipples. Your hands carded through his hair and held him in place as his ministrations made you moan. 

“Lix, please” you whined, pressing the back of your head against the pillow. 

He suckled once and lifted his head to stare at you. “What? What do you want, baby?” he asked in a whisper. 

“I- I just…”

“Use your words” he urged.

You swallowed and propped yourself on your elbows, staring at him with a soft panting. “I want you to go lower” you told him, trembling and slightly scared of his reaction. 

You had asked him to do something that no one had done to you before. 

He smirked and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then pulled away to continue kissing his way down to your stomach. He bit at the skin close to your navel as his hands caressed your skin down to your thighs, opening them up. 

Felix pressed a kiss to your pubic bone, over your panties, and then his fingers curled on the band of the lace, tugging them down your long legs torturously slow. 

You got shy and nervous all of a sudden and pressed your thighs together. You felt a little stupid, knowing that you were the one that had asked him to do that. His hands grabbed your thighs and gently pulled them apart, sending you a wink and a little smile, reassuring you it was okay. 

His gaze settled on your core and you blushed, feeling your face turn hot. Felix let his fingers dance your slit, collecting the wetness pooling there. He then pressed his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan. 

With an animalistic groan, he dove his face into your core, dipping his fingers inside of you and sucking on your clit. Your back arched violently as your fingers gripped on his hair, pressing his head into your heat. You moaned in surprise and tugged on Felix’s hair, making him groan against your flesh. He liked that.

He scissored his fingers, dragging them against your walls. 

“Yeah, just like that, Lix. Fuck” you moaned breathily. 

His free hand caressed and gripped your thigh as he continued his ministrations. He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, once again. Then, his tongue licked over your hole and pressed the tip of it inside of you. 

“Fuck, I’m close, Lix” you said, continuing to grip his hair tightly, pressing him against your cunt. 

His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit, making your back arch and release your orgasm on his tongue with a long moan. You laid gasping, with your hands on your stomach as he pressed kisses on your shaking thighs and caressing your skin. “You okay, beautiful?” he asked, crawling towards you to press a kiss on your cheek. 

You nodded, curling your arms around his neck and bringing him closer. His mouth went to kiss your neck once again, laying half of his weight on top of you.

“This is all I’ve wanted” he whispered against your neck, his deep voice vibrating against your skin making you shiver. Your fingers caressed the back of his neck, his words were making your heart beat louder. “All I’ve dreamed about” he whispered, kissing your flesh.

“God, me too” you whispered back. “You’re all I want”

Felix lifted his head and pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you” 

“I love you” you said to him with a smile and kissed him, trying to show him all the love you held in your heart for him. 

Inescapable, I’m not even going to try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

One of his hands made its way to your head, holding you in place while the other drew patterns on the skin of your waist, gripping it a little. He pulled away from the kiss, stared at your mouth and pressed two more kisses.

Your hands that were on his neck, made their way down to his jeans, unbuttoning them. “Take them off” you whispered against his mouth, kissing him again. 

He pressed two more kisses to your mouth and lifted himself from on top of you to take his jeans, letting them drop on the floor as he stepped out of them. 

The bulge in his boxers made you whimper and bit your lip. He saw your face and smirked, hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down his legs, standing naked in front of you. 

He crawled back on top of you, claiming your mouth in a kiss full of tongue and heavy breathing. You moaned, grabbing his arm with one hand and the other one pressed against his chest. 

The hand on his chest drifted down to his pelvis, curling around his erection, making him groan and bite your lip. 

“What- what are you doing?” he asked, pulling away from your mouth, his eyebrows furrowing and twisting in pleasure as your hand started moving up and down over his shaft, his thumb wiping his tip. 

You smirked, sticking your tongue out and licking his lips sensually. “Returning the favor” you whispered hotly against his lips. 

He let you continue for a few seconds before grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from his shaft. “Next time, okay? I wanna come inside of you” he said, kissing your cheek. 

You nodded and smiled when he pressed more kisses to your cheeks. “Do you have a condom?” you asked. 

He pulled away and stuck his arm out to his nightstand, pulling out a condom from the first drawer. Felix lifted himself up slightly, rolling the condom on his cock and then went back to his last position on top of you. 

The head of his cock nudged your entrance, making you gasp and dig your nails on his shoulders. His nose brushed against yours as he slid inside of you, swallowing your gasp with a kiss. 

He bottomed out, giving you a couple of seconds to adjust to his thick length. His hands were gripping the sheets tightly, trying to refrain from driving into you at a wild pace. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding kind of strangled. 

“Yeah, yeah” you nodded breathily. “You can move”

“Fuck” he whispered, pressing his face against your neck and started to snap his hips against yours. “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby” he groaned. 

You moaned with every thrust, your nails raking his back. “Oh, God, Lix” you gasped in a whine, feeling full and overwhelmed, in the best kind of way possible.

His hips were moving steadily as his mouth enveloped yours, trying to hold the urge to slam his hips against yours. One of his hands went to one of your breasts, gripping it tightly, his thumb sliding over your nipple, making you cry out. 

“Lix, faster… please” you pleaded, and it was enough for him to grab your thigh, pulling it over his waist and fucking you deeper and faster, the sinful sound of skin slapping on skin invading the room in a constant echo. “God! Just like that” you continued whispering his name over and over, like a prayer.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered against your lips before claiming your mouth with a kiss. “I love you. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. It’s always been you” he continued whispering against your lips, getting closer to the edge with every thrust. 

“I’m yours… yours. All yours” you gasped when you felt his fingers starting to rub circles on your clit, trying to get you closer to your orgasm. “Lix- Lix, I’m close, so fucking close”

“Good, come with me, baby. I need you to come” he said, sticking his tongue out and licking your throat and then biting your skin, making you clench around him, finding the action super hot. “God, you’re so tight” he babbled.

You arched your back as you felt your orgasm rush through you in a hot wave across your body, making you moan and curl your fingers on his bicep, digging his nails against the skin. 

Felix’s face fell to your neck as he thrust hard a couple of times before spilling inside the condom with a moan muffled against your skin. His body shook with aftershocks from the earth-shattering orgasm he just had as he felt his body go limp and fall against yours.

You wrapped your limbs around him, holding him tightly against you as you both tried to regain your breathing. Your hands caressed his back while your nose nuzzled against the shell of his ear. 

Felix lifted his head up and looked down at her, his eyes searching yours. He then smiled, pressing his mouth against yours, his hand caressing your hair. 

He pulled away and you saw the love in his eyes. How lucky you were.

You could live like this, knowing that there was so much love inside of him. For you. He loved you. 

Yes, you were so lucky. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You threw your head back in laughter, holding your glass of wine as Felix made you laugh, telling some stupidity as you both felt the effects from the alcohol running through your veins. 

You both decided to jump into the bath after two more rounds of passionate sex and treat yourselves with some wine. 

“God, I don’t know how you dated her” you laughed. “She was so dumb”

“Yeah, I know” he nodded, looking away. “She- truth is, and I’m gonna sound like an asshole, but… I dated her because she looked like you” he said. 

You pulled your face back in surprise. Felix had dated this bimbo named Julia a couple of months ago, and now that you recall her face, she did look like you. 

“Wow” you giggled. “Yeah… she did” 

Felix groaned, burying his face into the palm of his hand. 

“Don’t be embarrassed” you told him, getting closer to him, placing your palm on his cheek, urging him to look at you with a nudge. “Hey, look at me” you said, and Felix slowly looked at you and you noticed the pretty blush sitting on his cheeks, giving his freckles a colorful background. “It’s alright, we’ve all had our moments to forget about someone. I mean, I cannot blame you. I literally just came from a date hours ago, one that I went to forget about you”

“Yeah, and look how that went” Felix said with a smirk.

“Oh, it went good” you smirked, climbing on top of him, with the glass in your hand. Your knee slid a little, making you stumble a bit and he grabbed your waist to steady you, the movement causing to make you spill some of the red liquid on the water. 

“No! Careful” Felix laughed, making you laugh back.

“I almost slipped, I’m sorry” you chuckled, leaving the glass on the floor and curling your arms around his neck. 

You two stared at each other and you felt his wet, warm hands sliding over your back in a sweet caress. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he said, pressing kisses on your face. “Ethereal, I swear to God” he whispered, making you bite your lip.

“Are you even real?” you whispered. “I think I’m just imagining you” 

Felix made a movement with his pelvis, making his hard on nudge against your core. “Do you think that’s fake?” he asked, his deep voice making you clench around nothing.

You gasped, your nails digging into his back. “No… no, that’s definitely real” you gasped. 

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we’re both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You looked at yourself in the mirror after finishing the last touches of blush on your cheeks. Your fingers glided over the pretty dress that you had bought. For him. For the right person. 

Your person.

A vibration made you look down to the phone laying on the bathroom counter. 

Felix: You ready, my love?

You giggled at the message, feeling like a little kid. You quickly replied, telling him that you were going and left the bathroom, putting your stuff inside your purse. 

Sliding your shoes on your feet, you felt your heart starting to beat faster in nervousness, but in excitement as well. 

This was going to be the best date ever. Not because of what you were doing. But because of who you were going with. 

You opened the door of your bedroom and saw him standing there with a nervous smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Your favourite flowers. 

With a gasp, your hands flew to cover your mouth. 

“Baby” you whispered, extending your hands to grab the bouquet. “Oh my God, I don’t know what to say. They’re so beautiful”

Felix smiled in pride, seeing your face and how it lit up when you saw the flowers. “Do you like them?” he asked, getting a little shy.

“Like them?” you gasped with a smile. “I love them, honey. I love you” you said, curling your free arm around his neck and bringing him into a passionate kiss. 

HIs hands fell to your waist, pulling you closer against him. 

“I love you” you whispered again into his lips.

“I love you” he whispered back. “So, so much” 

As he continued to press kisses into your mouth, you started to wonder: how were you deserving of such a wonderful man? So attentive, so caring and thoughtful. 

“I don’t deserve you” you let it slip up.

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed, pulling his face back, getting serious out of a sudden. “Don’t say that” he whispered. “Of course you do. We deserve each other. We deserve to be with each other after so much waiting. After so much pining” he said, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You looked at him, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hey, no, don’t cry” he said with a smile, making you mirror his expression, letting out a laugh as a single tear rolled down your cheek and he caught it, brushing it away. “Come on, as much as I’d like to stare at your pretty face all day… we have a date going on” he smirked.

You bit your lip and you kissed him. “Let’s go” you smiled at him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

And I woke up just in time, 

now I wake up by your side.

With a content sigh, your eyes fluttered open and stretched your limbs, feeling your cheek squished against your lover’s chest. You cranked your neck to stare at his pretty face, still asleep. 

Hoisting yourself on your elbows, you admired all his facial features. His beautiful nose.

His perfect lips. 

His lashes.

His freckles.

God, his freckles. Did they made you weak in the knees. 

You bit your lip, wondering how the hell was this man yours. He had seen you at your worst. And he still stayed. 

Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me

Flashback to my mistakes,

my rebounds,

my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

He was everything to you. He had you, in the palm of his hand. He could crush you, in any second, he could do anything he wanted with you. And he chose to cherish you. Love you. Worship you. 

He was your angel. And your sunshine. 

His eyes fluttered open and smiled when he caught your face. 

“Hello handsome” you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek, caressing his supple skin. 

He let out a breath, out of content. “Hello, beautiful”

Yeah, he was your everything.

My one and only,

my lifeline.

[leclsrc]

it’s never over ✴︎ cl16

genre: childhood friends to friends with benefits to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, several references to 70’s music, 

word count: 12.9k  

You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... handjob (f receiving), penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink

auds here… hi hi hi!!! you’ve no idea how much i missed writing posting and interacting w u guys. thank u for all the love & follows i’ve gotten in my periods of mia. more things soon i promise ty for ur patience love love love u allll 🌟🤎🤠💋 this is my love letter to fic tropes. i feared if it was too long i’d lose the plot somehow so i had to condense it. i truly hope u all like it :) will try & reopen reqs sometime soon to get inspo kicking

It’s later than late. The lights are strobing purple and blue, the “let’s get you even drunker than you are” headache inducing kind. The floor is crowded, swelling with teenagers who are probably too young to get in, drunk off cheap aperol and watered-down tequila shots. You’re balancing yourself on a barstool, one hand busy wrapped around a slim glass, the other clawing your miniskirt lower because the air bites at your legs.

“Another voddy Red Bull!” You’re slurring, mind spinning almost as fast as your vision. You almost drop your empty glass in your rush to look for another one—but right as it slips clumsily out of your fingers, it’s caught. 

Charles, your cocktail’s knight in armor and yours just as well, is eighteen. His hair is  light brown and long, but not draping over his eyes like before. You know before because you’ve never not known before—Charles has been your best friend since you were five.

Snoopy, he says, voice steady and calm in your ear. His frame is still lanky but he’s tall and his grip on your shoulders is enough to quell the yelling. You pout. Get me another voddy red, you plead. Charlie, it’s my birthday. He smiles to himself, knowing your vision’s too cloudy to see him and your mind’s too bogged to remember any of this. You’d already slipped up and told two bouncers you were seventeen and not eighteen, like your poorly-Photoshopped ID suggested; Charles had to keep you in check, lest you or your friends end up kicked out of the club.

A song booms in through the speakers and your eyes widen with recognition. Charles doesn’t anticipate your reaction fast enough, affording only a stumble backwards when you attempt to leave the barstool to dance. He swears under his breath, mind recounting the five previous dance sessions that left you exhausted and out of breath earlier.

I’ll get you a vodka Red Bull if you sit down, he tells you. He enunciates because, twelve years later, you still can’t wrap your mind around his thick European accent. Sit down.

Alriiiight! You hoot, throwing two fists up in the air. Customary for many bartenders on nights as busy as this one, a free shot is thrust into your vacant hand and you cheer loudly, much to Charles’ chagrin. With whatever malice the eighteen-year-old can muster, he casts the bartender a dirty look before turning to face you again, worried. He places a hand on your shoulder and watches, half-anxious and half-endeared, you take the shot and visibly grimace at the raw taste. Fuck. It’s gin I think, you sputter. Charles presses: You okay?

More than, you holler, smiling. I am officially seventeeee— 

The bartender’s eyebrows furrow, the thirty-something businessman in the adjacent stool turns to look—so Charles has no choice but to shut you up, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours before you can seal your fate.

Your eyes widen briefly, and when Charles feels the passed seconds are sufficient, he pulls away. You stare, eyes hazy, at the pretty boy you’ve had feelings for since you turned fourteen, and lean in to kiss him again. 

—

Pascale is hosting her weekly Sunday brunch at the Leclerc residence, all French windows and wide kitchens and bowls of fruit. As always, your place is at the kitchen island picking at plates to taste test them. Bonjour, Arthur drawls when he walks in. He turns to Pascale. Mum. Then you. Snoopy.

You halt biting into your forkful of arugula and turn toward the younger Leclerc, eyebrows raised. “What’d you just call me?”

“Snoopy,” he says simply. He’s beside Pascale, one arm wrapped around her affectionately. “Or, Snoops, if you like that. Yes?”

“Who told you about that nickname?”

“Lorenzo.”

“Hasn’t been in use since your voice was cracking every sentence.”

“Tête de noeud.” Pascale swats his arm and he yelps, so you resume your arugula with satisfaction.

Charles is late for reasons he did not disclose, but everyone is used to it. The open kitchen door stretches into the front yard, where the table is set up and Lorenzo is setting the places. You know that although you usually expect a few more relatives, today’s just for the family—and you, but you’re basically family.

“How is Paris?” Arthur asks, licking hummus off a spoon opposite you. Your position is reminiscent of how you spent afternoons after school with Charles before, and the memory strikes a chord in you. Strange nostalgia, fondness.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh really?” He laughs in-between nibbles of carrot.

“I got an offer for a higher position,” you relent. Pascale calls you both, and you get up and walk toward the yard to sit down. “If you must know.”

“Oh? Let me know how that goes.” He follows you, carrot slice in hand, chewing. The conversation is cut short by the smooth noise of Charles’ decidedly un-smooth parking outside.

You’re seated at your usual spot—in-between Charles and Lorenzo, across Arthur—when the former finally walks into the yard. He looks tired, moreso than usual, bags under his eyes deep and hair a bit more disheveled.

He sits beside you. “I need to talk to you.” Then, quieter, “Private.”

You hum confusedly, eyes flitting across the three other people at the table to gauge their reactions. They’re equally aloof. “Wh—now?” He nods.

You end up talking in the kitchen. He’s sighing the whole fifteen steps there, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exhaling, inhaling. Ever observant, and of someone as close to you as he is, you pick up on the tiny actions, behaviors. Charles is wringing his hands. He’s tried to pop the same knuckle twice. He isn’t frantic—he’s scared. You lean against the counter, waiting, eyes looking him up and down to identify his exact emotions.

“Tell me,” you press. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge.”

“The—my—the iCloud of my phone has been leaked. The press found out.”

When you were eight and he was nine, you and Charles summered in Villefranche with your mum and dad. The weather then was the kind you could write love letters to and about—blue skies, salty wind, soft sand. The current was calm enough that you could ride the gentle waves without fear of going under or straying far from the shore, where your parents sunbathed blissfully.

Don’t drown, he’d warned you, ever protective. You wore pink floaties over your arms, so it was already difficult to.

You dove under with great effort, fighting against the buoyancy, and poked his bare knee, surfacing to watch his reaction. He grimaced. Slowpoke, you teased, swimming away. You wondered then what it might feel to drown. Maybe not in the blue water of Villefranche, but anywhere else.

You think it hurts to drown? You blubbered, bobbing above the wave. Charles swam in front of you and wiped water off your face gently. I hope you never find out, he said, smiling.

But this is you finding out. This is it now, the drowning. Your fingers flex over the edge of the counter and you gulp, eyes fluttering with nerves. “Shit?” It comes out like a question from how nervous you are. “Um, sorry. What are we—” But your question is cut short by Pascale’s voice, cutting through the tension like it’s wet cardboard. The agreement is silent and mutual: save this discussion for later.

—

Charles can’t wake up fast enough. There are calls, texts, voicemails from every officer on his team, which isn’t that surprising given he’s up two hours late. But the amount—the sheer amount of notifications is dizzying. Overwhelmed, he finds it in himself to pull up his search engine app and let his fingers possess themselves.

All he types is his last name, and then The Sun article is splashed onto his face like a pot of scalding coffee: “F1 DRIVER ICLOUD LEAKED, PERSONAL PHOTOS ALL OVER INTERNET.” Daily Mail is next, of course, watering down the situation to seem more dirty and scandalous: “Naughty Driver? Charles Leclerc’s iCloud Hacked, Reveals Mystery Girl.” And then of course Page Six, who doesn’t miss a beat—

Wait. He blinks and presses the back arrow to return to the previous webpage. He reads over it again, slower this time. Mystery Girl? Shit—no. No way. It’s almost (it should be) silly, the way he’s reading vigorously over the reports like he’s a fan, but he’s anxious. He scrolls, because if any tabloid is daft enough to publish the leaked photos, it’s got to be the Daily Mail.

He pauses his quick swiping when his eyes harden with recognition, and staring back at him, on his phone’s full brightness, is a picture of you on his lap at Christmas. It’s the one Lance took while attempting to guess Charles’ password, one of you wine drunk with his head buried in your neck.

It’s unmistakably him, at his own house in Monaco where the drivers had a holiday get-together. It’s unmistakably you, hair draped over your face, three gold rings on your fingers. You had just given him a Strokes vinyl, he recalls. That’s why you were hugging.

There’s another one of you playing Scrabble in his bed—he’s not in the frame, but he remembers taking it. This, he could deny. He’s not in it, and he’s pretty sure the fans don’t know his house this well. Already his brain’s doing manual damage control, dread filling his veins at the thought of reading through his team’s frantic messages.

Another message stands out, pinned on top of all the others—from his mum, reminding him about brunch. He gets ready half-focused, half-lucid. Fully worried. He worries about the PR crisis this may cause, about his iCloud security, about the reactions online. Above all, though, he worries about you. About what he should tell the press. About how “actually, we’re not dating, we just fuck constantly” might hold up for the fans.

—

You’re twelve and Charles thirteen, both of you seated across Hervé and Pascale. Behind them stand your own parents, and they all look stern. What this is, Pascale says gently, is a family meeting. Okay?

Okay. It leaves your high voices in shaky unison. You both know what you’re doing here—you snuck out of school to catch a movie earlier, the teacher naturally caught wind of the misdeed, and now you’re in a meeting for it.

Snoops, Charles whispers, trying to ease your nerves with lighthearted commentary. This is the worst.

No, you want to tell preteen Charles—this is. You’re older now, yet still subjected to similar questioning, though today it’s Pascale going solo. It’s been three days since the fated day where the press leaked the pictures of you and Charles in compromising positions, and like any boomer, she’s used Facebook to her advantage and gotten ahold of the compromising pictures, too. 

“How long?” Her voice is enunciated in hard syllables.

“Mum—”

“Answer the question.” She looks back and forth, moving into territory of intense questions. “Both of you.”

“Um.”

“Because… I’ve been…”

You notice it immediately, given your observant track record: her shoulders relax and her lips smile just slightly. You sit still, and wait for the next words out of her mouth. “…waiting for this all my life!”

You and Charles watch in mild horror as Pascale’s face goes from firm to absolutely elated. Her eyes soften and a smile spreads over her face, illuminating her with pure joy. Do you even know how many bets I made with your papa, Charles? She claps her hands together several times.

Charles opens his mouth to verbalize dissent, but she doesn’t take it—she’s already droning on and on about how long she’s waited for this to finally happen. Your eyes glide over to the doorway of the dining area, where Lorenzo and Arthur watch with smug looks on their faces. Little shits won’t help you. You don’t even try to protest, and at some point Charles gives up, too. You don’t know how it’ll come across, anyway.

Ninety minutes later, you’re in Arthur’s bedroom rifling through his desk and praying you don’t find anything too gross. He’s on his bed throwing a bouncy ball up in the air, conversing with Charles about your gameplan with their mum.

The sky outside is in limbo between afternoon and night. It’s cloudy, so the sunset is a pale yellow instead of angry orange. “Why not just tell her the truth?”

You’d also thought that was the easiest option, escape route, exit path. But that would involve breaking Pascale’s heart, and that was out of the question for you, let alone Charles, certified mommy’s boy.

“I can’t, Arthur.” Charles’ voice is steady and unwavering.

“You can.”

“No.”

“Fine. Next best thing then.”

You fiddle with a Rubik’s cube, then turn in the seat. “What?”

“Pretend you’re dating.”

“Arthur,” you say seriously. “Shut up.” But he doesn’t join you, and you realize neither does Charles. You stare blankly at both of them, unwilling to believe they’d actually bank on this as an actual plan. 

“You guys realize this kind of thing never works? Zero percent success rate.”

“It’s just paddock appearences. You’re not pretending for millions of people,” Arthur says, shrugging. He catches the ball and throws it to you—you catch it one-handed. “You’re pretending for Mum.”

“Sure. And by extension, millions of people. Are you dense, or do you think the paddock appearances will just breeze by everyone who saw the leaks?”

“Ughhh. You’re acting like it’s impossible.” Arthur holds his breath before he utters the next sentence. “Like you two aren’t fucking every other w—”

“—oh, my God!” Shocked, you get up, and so does Charles. “Wh—I’m—language, Arthur!”

Charles balks. “How did you even—”

“I didn’t. But merci mille fois for confirming my theory,” Arthur quips faux-sweetly, smiling dopily. “I mean, I was going to find out! Your pictures are so… intimate. So just pretend to date and throw Maman off your scent.”

You protest briefly, wrestling with the option, and reconvene on the bed, you cross-legged and leaning on Charles’ shoulder and Arthur in front of the both of you. He’s always had a knack for schemes—he never got caught sneaking out, which destroyed your and Charles’ record of being caught twelve times by either of your parents. It’s a bit childish, but he gets the job done.

“Do it for… let’s say a month. Tell Mum you’ve been dating a while—Christmas isn’t that long ago, and that was the least recent picture. D’accord?”

You both nod, hyperfocused. 

“During race weekends, be all over each other—shouldn’t be hard—especially in front of Mum. People might catch you doing it, but I wouldn’t worry.”

“No, wait—I mean.” You shrug. “People—tifosi—they know I’m Charles’ friend. They’re going to be all over the fact that we’re apparently dating.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll use palatable density,” Charles says, nodding.

You pause. Arthur does, too, sensing something off.

“You mean plausible deniability.” Your deadpan voice is tinged with amusement, muffled into his shoulder. 

“Right, ouais, that.” He smiles, chuckling a bit; his shoulder shakes with it and your head nearly slips off. He brings a hand to cup over your jaw and hold you steady. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” You sigh. “I’m totally okay with this. Just worried it’s going to have unintended consequences.”

Arthur quells you with rushed explanations about how it’ll be over and you two can say something like we decided we’re better off as friends to really sell the thing. At the seven-minute mark of your and Charles’ intense interrogation, he promptly kicks you out to figure out if you’re willing to do it yourselves.

You wedge yourself into Charles’ front seat, knowing you were headed to his place anyway. You massage your temples with one hand and fiddle with the hem of your shorts with the other. Nervous. Antsy. “Did Fred say anything?”

“Got the IT team to fortify my account.” 

“You think this thing’s going to be okay from a professional standpoint?” You look up and toward him; he’s already gazing at you, eyes soft. “I’m worried. Plus, with my job offer thing in London and New Y—”

“Don’t be.” He starts the car and maneuvers out of the driveway, into the dips of Monaco streets and the familiar route back to his place. “Bitter with the sweet. The only thing you need to worry about”—he takes your hand in the centre console, laces your fingers together loosely—“is your acting skills.”

“God, you’re right.” You sigh, looking out the window. “How am I going to pretend I can stand you?” Then, for good measure, you squeeze his hand wrapped in yours.

—

You visit Monaco from uni in London over spring, and for the first time in months, your schedule aligns with Charles’—though you learn this indirectly when you visit the Leclerc home. Pascale, of course, is the one who tells you his new flat’s address before she presses a kiss to your cheek and then leaves to run errands in the city. Alone, and in a burst of excitement, you make the drive there, take the elevator upstairs and shove the door open without knocking. He’s there. Your Charles. You can tell because the music he plays is loud—The Kooks—like his ears are still fourteen and not twenty-one, like he’s still in middle school and not in Formula One.

“Save your eardrums,” you say, before beelining toward the couch and leaping onto him for a hug. He sits up to match your energy, arms wrapping around you, sitting up straighter to keep you from totally falling atop him. 

“How’s uni?”

“Shit,” you say into his hair. It smells like his shampoo and his favorite cologne. Clean, soapy. “Obviously. How’s the Ferrari?” 

“Amazing.” He smiles. “Obviously. How’d you know I was in? Mum told you?”

“Ouais. She’s running errands. Listen, can we drink tonight?” You sigh, parting from the hug and sitting across him.

Yeah, sure. His voice is concerned, thick with worry. You shake your head—it’s not that deep, you tell him. It’s just—I had a bad date before I left and it’s put me in the worst mood.

Oh? He leans back, clasping two hands behind his head as he goes.What happened? He laughs. 

You tense visibly, rolling your eyes despite yourself. “He was just weird. Nothing.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You shy, Snoops?”

Ha-ha. You roll your eyes, but your face is flushed and your gaze avoids him. You reach up to tuck the loose strands of hair by your ears behind them, face warm. You’d never talked with Charles about boys or flings before—maybe several times, but never in full detail. It was always vague umbrella statements, like Ryan is boring or Greg is such a prick, but never anything beyond that. Come to think of it, you don’t know why, either.

“You can tell me.”

“The—when we—I had to fake,” you say cuttingly. “You know.”

He purses his lips and smiles, eyebrows furrowing. I don’t, actually. Something unnamed trills through you—through your stomach and into your fingertips. Your first time talking to your best friend in real life after months of uni and racing and this is the topic? It’s, if anything, a sign of your growing up, you guess.

Charles lets up on the teasing and you end up rejecting the club in lieu of sharing a bottle of vodka, throwing it back raw and without any type of chaser (to really prove nothing at all; you don’t even know why any sane human would do this). You do a Just Dance party on his TV, even try out drunk sim racing and FIFA, but by the end you’re well exhausted and retired to the couch again.

His voice is wavy and tipsy when he speaks. “You really had to fake it?”

“Yeah.” You pout. “Can never—um, finish, I dunno.” Your inhibition’s gone, shame loosened and untied by the vodka. You shift in your position on the couch.

“Maybe because it was too casual.” His voice hardens.

“So you’re saying I should…” You swallow dryly, eyes fluttering. “Sleep with somebody I know?” You’ve dropped the implication and it floats up, hangs above.

His eyes flick over to your legs, folded on the couch. The hem of your shorts. Your fingers playing with your empty shot glass. He didn’t mean anything by that. He’s half-sure you didn’t. 

“I am just saying that a good friend would do that for you.”

“You’re a good friend,” you say, volume low. 

Five minutes later you’ve properly crashed into each other, him pinning you down against the couch, licking fire up your throat. His lips trail across your jaw. 

He dips a hand into your shorts, presses against your clothed core. He’s smiling. So wet for me. He’s got his mouth pressed messily up to your jaw, when he sinks one finger all the way in, slow and stretching; and you’re clenching around him—

Come on, he’s saying. Insisting. You’re trembling, yanking desperately at his hair as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of you, aching to be full of him, to take him deeper. 

He slips another one in, and you feel the cold of his ring pressed against your entrance, then he’s fucking them into you and you’re leaking around them. 

Yes, yeah, Charles—you’re gasping, airy breaths tapering into whimpers that sound sinful, desperate. He knows you so well already. Presses his fingers against your sweet spot, watches your eyes flutter.

So needy, and you’re chanting his name under your breath as he quickens his pace, craving the stretch of him desperately. I know you want to cum, baby. He’s calling you baby and you’re closer, so much closer. Come on, for me, yeah? 

You melt, crashing and crumpling into him and shuddering as you release all over his fingers. He presses his forehead to yours and lets you take a beat. You feel giddy and dizzy and warm, which is weird because you don’t feel drunk at all anymore. This dizziness is something different. It’s Charles.

“Are we going to do that again?” You ask meekly, hand still in his hair.

“Only if you want. Whatever you want,” he says. He’d do anything for you. He’d do whatever you wanted.

“I do, I do want.” And Charles, the good friend he is, helps you out.

—

Imola is humid, warm, and the racetrack is absolutely teeming with people. But you’re not there—clad in linen shorts and a fresh tank top, you’re walking around the vicinity of the track, cup of gelato in hand, sunglasses over your eyes. The restaurant near you is playing music out loud. Beside you, singing along and drafting a list of wedding appetizers, is Lorenzo.

“Lamb chops?” You suggest, licking amaretto off the plastic spoon. The weather is pleasant enough that people are crowding the streets without it being too unbearably hot. Stevie Wonder flows from the speakers, permeates the entire block.

“I was thinking more seafood.”  

“Tuna? Make ‘em little tacos.”

“Good idea. Think I’ll go for those. Hey, are you sure you’re on board with fake-dating my brother?”

You turn sharply toward him, taken aback. He hadn’t brought it up in the week and a half this plan had been in the works—he’d been privy to it the entire time, too, which makes it weirder that he’s asking so suddenly.

“I meaaan…” You slow your pace, contemplative. A shy smile plays at your lips, brows knitted together. “It’s only going to be for a month. Ish. So, yeah. Are you—do you—sorry. Is it alright with you? Sorry.”

“It is not not okay.”

“So it’s…” You pause. “Okay.”

“It’s—yes, but I worry, is all. How sure are you that this won’t hurt anyone?”

“I don’t know, it’s… bitter with the sweet. And who’s getting hurt… like the fans?” You laugh a little. “They’ll live, won’t they?”

“Like you.” He pauses. “Like Charles.”

—

Pierre is running a comb through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror; his Narcissus moment is interrupted by a banana to the back of his head. Bonjour, he says, monotone and already knowing the culprit.

“We need to talk.”

“Could this possibly be about the news of your brand new ‘girlfriend’ over last week? Where is she, by the way?”

“With Lorenzo. Listen, here’s the thing. Mum thinks we’re dating, and I don’t know how to tell her we’re not—so I won’t.”

“Lie to your mum, go ahead.” Pierre crosses his arms and hums.

“Tais-toi. It’s for her own good.” 

“So you’re going to pretend to date.”

 “Ouais.” 

“Should be easy. You guys are hooking up and making out or whatever all the time.”

Charles pauses and lets the silence speak for itself. When Pierre makes a noise of confusion, he gives. We don’t kiss, he says finally. She thinks it is too intimate, and we ‘are not dating,’ so sex is the only thing we do. Sex, and if you still have leftover antsy energy, you pull on his shirt and sit up against the headboard to finish a crossword puzzle. Sometimes he helps you, but most of the time he’s just there to press lazy kisses to your hair and temple, cheekbone and jaw—never your lips.

“You don’t kiss?” Pierre’s genuinely shocked. “Putain, you’re a hero. How does that even work?”

“We just do not kiss. We fuck, but no kissing.” He shrugs. “It’s always been that way.”

“So how about her birthday?”

“She doesn’t…” Charlex exhales tightly. “Remember.”

“Charles,” you suddenly say, head appearing into the doorway. “Oh, hey. Fred said you might be here. What are you guys talking about?”

“Sprint racing,” Pierre says, an easy lie.

Charles, though, is never good at the lying bit. “International tariffs.”

—

Your only memories of your seventeenth birthday are applying lip gloss and mascara, wearing your shortest skirt and tightest top, and reciting your supposed date of birth in line like a mantra. Anything after that’s been sprayed off by the ultra-clutch strength of vodka. Which, you’ve been told, was your drink of choice.

“Headache’s better,” you moan over the phone, face squashed onto your pillow. “Mum gave me an Advil but I was so sick all morning.”

“Did you snog anyone?” Charles is always teasing.

“God, I wish.” You shut your eyes and try to remember if your drunken stupor had somehow managed to get you successful in lip-locked matters. Nothing comes up and you wipe a dry hand over your face, heaving a sigh. “I really wanted to kiss Matthew but I think he left before you and I did.”

A pause. Then Charles clears his throat. “You mean you and me and the police car that escorted us home?” He snorts.

“You’re such a prick!” You scream into your pillow, laughing. “I already thanked you for being my literal savior last night.”

He smiles to himself. “You’re welcome.”

“Did you have fun?” You flop onto your back and stare at the stick-on stars on your ceiling. You make a mental note to try and remove them.

“Bit boring because I vowed not to drink at all, but I got to dance. Bitter with the sweet, right?”

—

“Nervous?”

“I mean, fuck, yeah.” You fix the hem of your dress, speaking to Giada through the phone. “Pascale’s waiting for us on the paddock. And so are, like, a hundred photographers.” You wince. “Can you even imagine Charles and me? It’s just—I dunno—it’s weird.”

“It isn’t,” she says, laughing. “Not really. It makes sense. Plus, aren’t you on the whole arrangement?” You envision her air quotes.

“Yeah, but”—you slip your sandals on—“it’s on and off, and that’s not dating. It’s sex. Two different things.”

“Is it really, though? Considering how close you are outside of bed, aren’t y—”

“Okay, input no longer needed,” you laugh. “Bye, Gi. I’ll text you later.”

You reunite with Charles just by the paddock entrance. The throng of fans holding cutouts and posters notice you two before anyone else does, inciting a collective bout of yells around the both of you. He notices your blue silk dress first, eyes unmoving. “You look like the sky.”

“Thanks, man.” A beat, and you squint through your sunglasses. “That’s a compliment, right?”

“Sure.”

“Prick.” You peek over them and to the fans, who wave more aggressively when they notice you’re looking. Nervously, you raise a hand and wave back, and the noise heightens. “I think I’m going to be replacing you.”

“Dream on. On y va?”

You turn back to him, smiling, and you both enter at the same time. His hand wraps around your waist, dips a bit lower to rest at the small of your back as you walk—the fans clearly dig it, because everyone’s yelling in a frenzy as you depart. What are you doing, you ask through your smiling teeth.

“Did you forget we’re supposed to be dating?” He maintains an equally pleasant (totally duplicitous) façade, smiling. 

“I didn’t think,” you say, still smiling falsely, “that you’d put your hands on me five minutes into the whole agreement.”

“Smile, honey,” he teases. “I see at least five cameras at us right now.”

“It’s seven,” you beam. “Dumbass.”

“Again with the competitive streak.” memory

“I totally deserved to win last week’s game. You’re just a sore loser.”

“No you’re just a—hi, hi, hello!”

Your walk to the motorhome is interrupted by running into a friend of Charles’—someone from McLaren, one of the executives there. While Lando has been informed of your stunt, nobody else on that team has. 

They handshake and he waves at you politely. “Whole paddock’s buzzing with news of you dating,” he says, smiling. “It’s a tad crazy! I remember seeing you as Charles’ plus one back when he was in Formula Two. And now you two are dating. How did—well, if you don’t mind me asking, where’d it all happen?”

“Oh,” you say, laughing. “Yeah, Monaco.”

“Texas,” Charles says at the same time.

Alarm bells go off in your head at the totally random, unwarranted statement out of Charles’ mouth. Texas? Neither of you have even ever been at the same time. “He means”—you say, coughing and nodding—“we went on this, um. Wild West themed, um, restaurant in Monaco, and that’s where he asked me out.” You make a face that you hope conveys you get it, and it seems to work.

“Definitely not what I had in mind, but if it worked, it worked, eh?” He grins. “I guess I always knew you two would end up together. Alright, ciao!”

You’re smiling and waving after him as he leaves, and then you’re (semi) alone again, or at least within your own space on the incredibly crowded paddock. 

You turn to him, unable to hide your confusion. “Um? Texas?! What’s up with the backstories?”

“It slipped out! Sorry. But nice save.”

“You’re so f—” You try to scold him, but can’t, bursting into laughter and leaning forward to laugh into his chest. “Texas, really?”

“Sorry,” he says. You feel the vibration of his own laugh through his chest and it’s warm and nice. You peel yourself off lest you look too clingy, and resume your walk to the motorhome.

Ferrari is crowded, filled with people and strategists and guests. You’re given a bottle of water and then hounded with questions from the team who haven’t been informed of the situation at hand. David, one of the engineers close to Charles who you’d previously spoken to in one of the earlier races, asks to borrow him.

“Ciao, ciao.” They speak in one of the outdoor patio areas. “Is everything okay?”

“The car is fine. I just wanted to ask about the girl.” David punches his arm, playful. “You finally got her!”

“Oh.”

“It’s just… I remember all the times she would show up and you’d tell me about how much you liked her… I don’t know, it’s perfect for things to end up like this, no? Bravo!”

“Oh, si. I’ve just been, you know…” He looks through the glass sliding door and into the hospitality, where you’re talking to Isa and Carlos, sunglasses over your hair. Your hands are moving quickly, and you’re smiling while talking. He wonders what you’re so passionate about. When you’re caught in fits of happiness and passion, you’re extra animated. Your eyes are lively, and your lips can’t stop curling into a slight beaming smile. Now, maybe it’s France, maybe it’s crossword puzzles, slim chance it’s your job—whatever it is, he could watch you talk like this for hours. He thinks it’s beautiful, the way you transform, the way you smile, when you talk of things you absolutely love. 

“… crazy about her forever.”

—

There are banners, Italian flags, and Charles’ face on every other wall. He’s done his first hat-trick of the season (of several more, you’re hoping). You’ve foregone the usual clubbing for dinner with a smaller group of people, but only because you’ve been told the nightlife is bleak and you’d rather save that energy for the next race.

Lando picked out the restaurant—he’s “on a massive Yelp high” trying to get the best restaurants in every city they get to. He’s tried two over the weekend, and is hoping this guns for first place. The restaurant’s name is long and so very Italian, to the point where your semi-fluency fails you. The food is amazing, though, and so is the wine—a whole other level of grape-flavored bliss.

You’re in-between Joris and Charles, nursing your fourth glass while Charles downs a bottle of beer. Light conversation flows through the table, but your sleepiness only allows you to hear some of it. You’re content with the white noise.

Lando is getting a new cat, Lewis bought a new pair of shoes—oh, no, shares in the company that makes the shoes—Joris bought the shoes, Lorenzo will now buy the shoes, why isn’t anyone paying attention to Lando’s cat. It’s funny, entertaining, and the perfect nightcap to your immensely exhausting day of acting.

Wine tipsy makes you loopy and snoozy. By default, your head lolls onto Charles’ body; he immediately wraps a sweater-clad arm around your frame, leans back, pulls you closer. Doesn’t miss a beat. In fact, while doing so, he’s even able to get a dig in against Lando’s affinity for cats.

“No more wine, m’kay?” He whispers quietly, angling his head to yours. 

“Oh, but it was so good, though.” You mope, but nod in agreement. “I could seriously drink wine out of a keg here.”

“Sure did that a lot with beer.” You laugh, punching his bicep with what little space you’re given. “You sleepy?”

“Yeah. But I’m fine,” you respond, smiling. “Now shut up. I need to know what happened to Lando’s cat.”

Lewis leaves first, claiming he’s into this whole “sleeping at 9PM” thing, and Lorenzo follows to get ahead of an early flight tomorrow. It’s you, Joris, Charles, and Lando now, and you’re good as dead, eyes half-shut and fluttering, head slipping off his shoulder.

How was it? Lando asks, lowering his volume to keep from being too jarring. Day 1, fake dating? I actually read something like this in one of those, um, fanfiction stuff the fans do. Joris and Charles cast him a half-weirded out, half-amused pair of looks, but Lando defends himself. They’re actually pretty good, guys. I read one where I ended up with my rival or summat.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Lando,” you croak, voice raspy with sleepiness and a day of bubbling laughter, “but Charles and I probably didn’t do your fanfiction kink justice.”

“Ignoring the emasculation.” He says, turning beet red. “What’d you do, then? Wasn’t it hard?”

“It was hard, but it’s like that.” Charles likes to substitute the phrase it is what it is to it’s like that, a result likely stemming from his trilingual childhood. “We just. Pretended. Oi, we held hands in front of the cameras.”

“Yeah, you can get a good wank in if that does it for you,” you joke. Lando hurls a cube of parmigiano at your face; it lands squarely and you flip him off, the table erupting with peals of laughter.

“In all seriousness, though—how are you two okay with this? I know I’d be second guessing my feelings every second.”

You shift, trying to hide your obvious lack of answer. It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then Charles says, “We’re both comfortable with each other, I think.”

“Yeah, comfortable enough that we can, you know, be honest.” You’re looking at Lando when you say that. You don’t know how well you could repeat the sentence if you were looking straight into Charles’ eyes.

You leave the restaurant with a generous tip, and Charles helps you pull your coat on when you’re out the door, back into the chilly night air. It’s then that all four of you catch news via text, of a club invite somewhere in the city.

“It’ll be fun, guys.” Joris and Lando stand in front of you and Charles, bumbling with excitement. “I heard Lil Tjay is going to be there.”

“It sounds very fun,” you say, smiling, “but I might pass out if I drink anything other than water, and I have zero energy. You three go ahead.”

“Wh—no, I’m not going, either.” You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “Serious! I wasn’t in the mood much, anyway. Joris, take Lando’s car and we’ll take mine.”

“Alright,” Lando whistles. “Suit yourselves, agoraphobes.”

“Joke’s on you”—Charles smiles, smug—“I don’t know what that means.”

“Not the dig you think it is, Charles,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Night, Joris, Lando. See you guys tomorrow. Use protection!”

“Should be saying that to you guys,” quips Joris with an evil grin that he closes the car door on.

The climb into the car feels like a chore in itself with how tipsy and sleepy you’ve become. Charles likes to bring his Ferrari to race weekends, but you convinced him to use a different car for this one, because you honest-to-God can’t stand the low seats anymore. 

“You want dessert?” He asks when he’s rounded the car and settled into his seat. “Gelato, a cone, biscotti…”

“No, no,” you say, voice thin. A palm covers your shutting eyes; blindly, you reach for his hand. It’s easy because he sees you searching and takes your hand to cut it short. “I’m good. So sleepy. Can I sleep at your hotel room?”

“Sure.” He starts the car, waves to the wait staff idle by the entrance, and drives off. “How was the day as my fake girlfriend? Anyone ask about me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, flickering his gaze to your figure beside him. “Wasn’t too tough, I hope.”

Imola whizzes by, trees and city, and a poorly stifled yawn escapes your lips, wine stained. You laugh sleepily. “It was a bit awkward, but bitter with the sweet, right?” He smiles, nodding, and you continue. “Yeah, few strategists, some people who knew you from Prema. I was talking to Isa and Carlos, too, earlier. Even if they know it’s fake.”

He recalls seeing you talk to them through the glass. “About?”

“You.”

—

The sun is merciless on the clay courts, and so are your shoes, shuddering against the surface in your continuing attempt to beat the opposing team. Charles cowers behind you—he’s scored less than half of your points thus far—but you’re on a mission, like your competitive self always is when you’re put in a position to be able to win.

You’re two points down now, and the noontime is becoming increasingly itchy and unforgiving; across you both, Giada and Joris call a mutual time out. “That’s not allowed!” You say, petulant.

“This is a practice session,” Charles says gently, nearing you. “Mate, none of us are actual players.”

You wipe sweat off your forehead. “Right. Désolée. I’m just—I’m in the zone.”

“Ouais, I get it. Relax, m’kay? We got this.”

You shake yourself off and hop a few times, skirt bobbing by your waist as you go. Your braid bounces on your shoulder and you nod, turning your racquet over in your grip. 

Charles pings the ball hard and it soars over to land just shy of the line, seemingly scoring a point for you two and securing your win. Giada and Joris chime in with protests, claiming that the ball’s out. You throw your hands up in question.

“Okay, what? That was clearly a point!”

“Snoops, I think they might be right. The ball looked out to me,” Charles says, wrapping a sweaty arm around your red shoulders.

“What are you talking about, Charlie? That ball was in! I saw it!” You elbow yourself out of his grip, aghast.

“How about…” He suggests quietly. “We let them win? You did win the last”—he pauses to count—“five sets. Come on, Snoops. They need this. Bitter with the—”

You take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. “Fucking sweet, right, okay. Fine, fine.” 

Charles thinks he’s in the clear and he’s managed to extinguish your flames of frustration—that is, until you walk into the Leclerc household for lunch an hour later and, after greeting Pascale and Hervé, you point squarely to the jar on the kitchen counter. “Five euros.”

He splutters. “Five? Wh—non, non! I was trying to calm you down.”

“You were blind and gave Giada and Joris a fake win,” you say playfully.

“Saluuut,” Lorenzo greets, sitting at the stool beside yours. “Quoi de neuf?”

“Charles has five euros for the jar.” The jar, the infamous jar, sometimes dubbed the Dumbass Jar when Pascale’s out of earshot. It was Lorenzo who first made it up after three straight instances of Charles pulling a push door (three different establishments).

Arthur’s joined in at this point, but its biggest indirect donors are definitely Lorenzo and Hervé, who view it as just about the funniest thing in the world. Out of pity, you don’t call dumbass too often, but the tennis loss is bruising enough that you warrant the usage.

“You heard Snoopy. Five euros. We’ll be able to get milkshakes with this money after next week.” You high five. “At this rate, Charles, you could open a restaurant in Paris.”

“He’s going to race,” you correct. You both watch a begrudged Charles junk a bill into the nearly-full jar. “What race driver is going to open a restaurant?”

—

You meet Yuki Tsunoda on a flight to Nice. You’ve seen him several times before, not too frequently but enough that his name and face are familiar on your mind. Also a personality trait that Pierre would bring up in fond conversations with you and/or Charles: he loves food, apparently.

“Yuki’s volunteering AlphaTauri to be your hideout,” Pierre tells you and Charles, across him. 

Turns out, the hardest part (insofar) of this whole schtick: the officially appointed paddock photographers are being extra sneaky with it, finding the best vantage points to snap pictures of an unwitting you and Charles.

They’re like hawks, watching for even the slightest glimpse so they can post the photos on Instagram and get clicks.

So, just a few hours earlier, Charles asked if there was a place you and him could talk if needed where photographers wouldn’t be awaiting you already, and this was the answer.

“If it’s too much trouble, feel no need to… you know.”

“Nonsense.” Pierre smiles goofily and Yuki pokes him to stop, pausing his session of eating a quesadilla (where he’d even acquired it, you’re clueless). “Yukino would be happy to.” 

The flight lands and the drive to Monaco is infected with notoriously slow traffic; you pop an Advil to try and alleviate the motion sickness. Pierre and Yuki, it seems, have joined you even outside of the flight. They’re in the backseat offering bits of conversation.

“Oh, mate, we should totally play tennis while we’re here.” Pierre sighs. “Didn’t you guys play before?”

“Mmm, yeah,” you mumble with a lilt of amusement at the memories from basically a decade ago. “At the country club. Doubles always, otherwise I’d knock Charles out of the park.”

“Hey, I won a couple times!” He protests weakly. “Like… twice.”

You laugh out loud. “Anyway, Pierre, do not bring me into tennis. I get all competitive and develop anger issues.”

“I had to calm her down twice a set,” Charles says; you swat him lightly to silence him. “Still do.”

“You know, if the Dumbass Jar still existed,” you say cuttingly, “I swear I’d be able to buy off Ferrari with that money.”

—

Monaco is swelterinly hot today. You know this because you know the weather here, you know the curves and ups and downs of it—this is your home. And today is hot. Every few minutes a breeze filters through the air and you can hear journalists or PAs sigh a collective breath of relief before they’re all subjected to the inane, high-degree weather again.

It’s also, according to Arthur, a good day to kiss in front of the cameras. He says it easily over a plate of sliced kiwi, with a devious smile, because he assumes your friends-with-benefits arrangement equates to constant kissing. But the truth is you’ve never kissed Charles, and it intimidates you.

“Do we have to kiss?” You play with his bracelets, sitting beside him on the sofa. The talk of kissing entertains the thought of sex and you can’t help but mentally complain at the remembrance that you haven’t gotten laid in weeks.

“If you don’t want to—”

“I do.” You splutter, eyes going wide, face warm. “No! I mean I don’t mind. If it sells the thing.”

“D’accord, then we will.” He smiles. “That okay?”

“Sure. First kiss,” you say. Your voice feels as clammy as your hands.

“First.” He looks away.

You take your woes off the kiss by playing a friendly round of tennis with your favourite opponents, Giada and Joris. They bemoan your competitive nature (that, to be fair, allots you and Charles three straight wins), and Giada incites a protest for a girls versus boys round.

You both embarrass Charles and Joris, heckling them as you win another two straight games. Charles runs over to you when you throw up the L sign on your hand, lifting you up and making you squeal.

“Put me down, loser!”

Giada and Joris exchange a look. Amused, knowing. “Charles! You’re such a cunt.” You kick hard, and manage to snag his abdomen, so he gently places you onto the clay again. He laughs and paces back over to his side, and you play with the tail of your braid as you watch.

You play set after set, but the kiss comes anyway. When you know photographers can see you—by the entrance—and it happens faster than your mind can muster. He’s leaning in, you’re reaching up, and your mouths slot together. It’s—and it feels crazy to say it, but—

It’s perfect. It’s lovely. You smile against his lips like they belong there and like they’re familiar and yours and like maybe this is all you’ve ever wanted, and like they deserve the smile, because they do. You feel your need to pull away before you can’t help but keep him tethered to you always. It’s strange and it’s not platonic—you’re mature enough to admit that, but not enough to label exactly what it is.

You spend the day with your fingers pressed to your lips, like you’re sealing the memory. Hours later, Charles wins. There’s massive uproar and you’re in the crowd when it happens, in the sea of strategists going to congratulate him on winning Monaco, which—that’s—it’s winning Monaco. Your ears ring by the end of it and your throat’s dry from your own cheering. Carlos comes in second, and the outlook for their team is going much better than it’d been at the start of the year, so there’s a lot to celebrate.

And celebrate you do. It starts with being pinned up against the door, hungry kisses along your jaw and neck. One kiss, it seems, has broken the dam from the few years you’ve spent abstaining from the kissing. He’s just finished interviews. He’s only just changed into his polo, and now he’s tugging it off again, feverish.

This is rushed and dirty, down low and dark. Only one light’s been switched on and he’s hiking your dress up, panties down with one hand to tug his cock out with the other. He’s kissing you—kissing you stupid, almost. Like he’s waited forever to taste your lips and now he’ll starve if he’s away for just a moment. He needs you. So have me, you want to say, all of me, push me up against the wall again and cover my mouth with your palm. Or don’t, don’t—so everyone knows I’m yours.

He presses your chest against the wall so your back’s turned to him, thrusts in with a breathless, throaty grunt. 

“S’ big,” you’re saying, clawing at words the pleasure bars you from finding.

“Barely even in,” he whispers. “Slow down, baby, come on, take it.”

Your toes curl. You’re high on the win, on the kissing, on Charles, on the slow delicious stretch of his cock. “I’m taking it, I’m taking it,” you say, shaky. He thrusts, slow and deep and dirty, until he’s bottomed out and you’re tiptoeing from the overwhelm.

“I feel you,” you’re whimpering, moans and gasps leaving your mouth. You blindly search for his hand, find it against your hip, drag it to your abdomen, under your dress that he hasn’t even fully removed. “I feel you there,” you say, an edge of teasing to your voice.

His cock’s bulging, almost, out of your stomach, and it’s getting you both all lightheaded. He thrusts harder, a devious smile felt against your neck.

I need it, Charles, you plead, please, please fuck me harder. You feel it coming, the familiar pleasure intensifying so quickly—you don’t usually cum so early, he’s always making you wait for it—pussy squeezing around him.

Jesus, already? He’s groaning but a laugh escapes, breathy and amused and taunting. He’s fucking you harder, faster. It’s so good, each hit getting you closer. Taking me so well, you’re bruised all over now, baby. You hate how well he knows what turns you on; memories of mornings post-sex spent inspecting the purple marks on your hips flash through your head and you’re even closer now, shaking, whimpering, begging.

You’re half-sure someone can hear, but it doesn’t even phase you. Harder, deeper— and you’re collapsing, legs spasming uncontrollably, orgasm so intense it’s on the brink of totally hurting. Tears roll down your sweaty face and he kisses them away, cumming onto your back to wipe off in a few minutes.

“I never even”—you pant, tired—“got to say congratulations.”

“That was more than enough.”

—

Charles is elated when you tell him his family has thrown a party for him the day next. He’s boyish in that way, optimistic and kiddy, the kind of person who’s up at five-thirty to announce their own birthday. 

He drives you both to his childhood home, a route so familiar he could drive with his eyes closed. (“I hope you’re not driving closed-eyed,” you’d warned.)

Even if he could, anyway, he’d rather not. The scenery of Monaco is stunning, ever-changing, and he never tires of it—the buildings, the skies, the trees and shrubbery, stores lining the streets, clean entrances. 

And you—in the passenger seat, humming softly to a song of his choosing. Drives are always better when you’re in the passenger seat.

The turnout is generous: extended family, and several friends from school. There’s bowls of fruit, salad, plates of salmon and racks of lamb, knobs of butter with warm bread. Pascale commands the kitchen—visible in how she leaves it cluttered with bowls, ingredients, whisks still dripping with syrup or batter, spoons licked for tasting. The good kind of clutter.

Lorenzo has also taken reign of the AUX, because it’s 70’s music playing, which is what he’s fond of for family gatherings like these. It’s My Cherie Amour now, Stevie Wonder mellowing across the lawn and into the house.

Charles knows you love the kitchen as much as his mum does, so when you get to the house, he’s not surprised to see you leave him in favor of checking out what damage has been done to your favorite marble countertops. He watches Pascale turn from the gas range, her eyes lit when she sees you, inviting you into an embrace. 

You look like the song playing, pretty and lovely, breeze in the summer. He almost loses himself in thought before his great-aunt Eden places two bony hands on his arms and greets him in feeble Italian.

He flits his eyes away from you, if just briefly, and faces the woman with a smile on his face. “Ciao, zia,” he says, voice buoyant, happy. “You came here to see me, no?”

All five-foot-one of her shakes in disagreement. She wags a finger for extra measure. “No,” she says. “Sono venuto a vedere la tua ragazza.”

His eyes widen. “She’s—” He pauses. He debates telling Eden you’re not actually his girlfriend, that this was a setup to appease Pascale and, by extension, tifosi. But he backtracks.

He shouldn’t, but he gives in, lives out his dreams for a bit. “Ah, she’s over there, zia. Con mamma.” He points to the open door, and to you on the far end of the room inside, holding a spoon. “Beautiful, yes?”

“Molto,” she says proudly. “You marry her?”

Fact: his great-aunt has the worst memory. She forgot Charles’ name twenty times, let alone niche facts like this one. Another fact: she rarely shows up to family events. Maybe now, because it’s a racing thing; but baby showers and funerals, she’s at home. So he indulges a bit more.

“Si, we’re engaged. But—it’s a secret, zia.” He grins. “Non dire a nessuno. Okay?”

“Sei fidanzato?!” She claps once, excited. “Ay, Charles. I waited my whole life for this moment, si?” And she’s wobbling away, still muttering under her breath.

—

“How is my son?” Pascale’s voice is teasing. She sighs happily. “For years I wondered if this would happen. And it really is.”

“Oui, sure is,” you sing-song, laughing a bit awkwardly. “We’re—he’s okay. We’re great. In love.”

“Oh, in love,” she swoons. She leaves you, after fifteen more minutes of detailed discussion, with half a spoonful of vinaigrette to taste-test, departing to check on the guests for a few minutes. In her place arrives Lorenzo, already bearing a shit-eating grin. “Saluuut.”

“Mmm, good to see you, too.” You taste the liquid and add lemon to the bowl. “How’s wedding planning?”

“Think we’ll throw a shower. Is that pretentious?”

“No,” you say, mulling over it. “Sure, a bit. But just don’t make it a whole thing, you’re golden.”

“I see.” He sighs fondly. “You know, many a conversation we’ve had right here at this counter. About anything.”

—

You loosen your school tie, slicing an apple like you so often do, waiting for Charles’ karting practice to end. Pascale had fixed you a bowl of something, Hervé a glass of orange juice. And somebody else would always, without fail, steal your food. A hand swipes two slices form your chopping board and your head whips up.

“Lorenzo!” You stomp your foot. “Stop stealing! That is my apple.”

“You mean the Leclercs’ apple.” He laughs, pops another slice into his mouth, smiling. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. The braid beside your head shakes with it as you continue slicing it into perfect quarters. He pipes up again: “How was school?”

“Shit, as usual.” You lower your voice and smile, leaning in. “Pascale scolded me earlier, for saying that word.”

“Did Papa?”

“Obviously not. He fist bumped me.” You share a laugh, both chewing on apple slices now. “Anyway, I aced a math test, had aubergine for lunch… got driven here by Charlotte’s mum.”

“Charlotte?” Lorenzo hums conspiratorially, making a mmmm sound. You look up from the yellow chopping board, furrowing your eyebrows. He persists: “Mmm. Cha-r-lotte.”

“What’s up with Charlotte?” Bit impolitely, you ask, in-between chews.

“I think she likes Charles, a little.” You nod slowly, trying to follow. Charlotte liking Charles. Your Charles. Wait, no. Not your—or nobody’s, really. Just Charles. Yeah.

“What? Bull!” You narrow your eyes. “Says who?”

“Why do you care?”

“Wh—I don’t!” You squeak, caught. “Just… I think I’d know, Lorenzo.” You make a tch noise, crossing your sweater-clad arms. “So—says who?”

“I saw her leering at him during his birthday party.” 

“You’re wrong,” you say, but you don’t really know who you’re convincing. He reaches over for an apple slice, and you move the chopping board out of the way sharply.

“Mon dieu, you’re snappy. Fine, fine. I might be wrong,” he relents, shrugging. He gets up and slides beside you to be able to acquire more slices. “I talked to her during the party, too.”

“Weirdo,” you tease, allowing him to take a few more. “About Charles, yes?

“No, about her brand new dress.”

“You’re the funniest Leclerc brother, I assure you.”

“She told me…” He says, louder this time, shushing you effectively. “She told me she ‘finds Charles cute.’” Air quotes, shrug. “But that they ‘probably won’t’ date.”

“Huh. Did, um. Did she say why?” You play with the tail of your braid, shuffling back and forth on your flats. You don’t know why you’re so fidgety—you aren’t nervous, you don’t think.

“Because…” he says, chewing to allow for a pause. “She said every time she looks for Charles to try and ask for time alone, or on a date, or something, he’s already following you around like some puppy.”

—

You comb your hair into a bun and venture into the patio, having avoided a good chunk of the noon heat. You greet some relatives politely along the way, and receive a hand squeeze from great-aunt Eden. At one of the tables is Charles, beside Joris and another friend, and Giada and Charlotte across them, an empty seat beside the latter.

You seat yourself in it and Giada kisses your cheek. “Hey. Ça va?”

“Fine,” you say, smiling. Then you lower your voice to a whisper. “Do you remember when I told you about my crush on Charlie? For the first time?”

“Yeah,” she whispers back. “Around… 2013.”

“Ouais. And… and it disappeared after that,” you say. “Right?”

“You said it did,” she says. “A year later. When we were sixteen.”

“Right.” You think. Seventeen onwards—you’d never formed a full-fledged crush on Charles. “Okay. It’s nothing. Just a memory. I was just. Yeah, oui.”

“Oui, let’s eat.” The memory fades and so does your running mind. Charles’ eyes meet yours across the table, and suddenly you feel a little less like your thoughts have ripped you open.

—

When you and Charles were younger, you adopted the adage “bitter with the sweet.” Charles will have people believe it was made by the both of you, with philosophical minds stretched so far beyond their years. Well, revisionist history. The truth lay in the Carole King song of the same name you’d heard on the stereo.

Those are the exact words Charles tells Ted when he’s interviewing for the Spain Grand Prix. It’s a hot day and you’re especially doubled down on by the fact that he’s finished ninth. 

You’d been fake-dating for the cameras all weekend. At all costs, you try and avoid interviews, but the damned Drive to Survive producers insist on a soundbite and start following the two of you around everywhere (only to find your conversations sound very weird and niche, and not scandalous or sexy).

Pascale also called—Charles first, and when he didn’t check his phone, you. You spent an hour on the phone just talking about the race. About the penalties and the nasty headlines that followed, and just everything.

“I’m glad you’re there,” she says. “God knows he needs you.”

You end up biking to try and relieve the stress, posing with fans for pictures.

“I’m such a big fan. I stalk Charles’ Insta like, all the time, and it’s crazy how you guys are dating.” A teenaged girl laughs nervously. “Where’d it happen?”

“Texas!” He, again, tries out the bit to appease the fans but you have to extinguish the flames of his blatant lies.

“He’s kidding,” you interject. “It’s just—it just happened, really.”

How does something just happen? Someone told you once, in a Paris bar, that love is like an echo. It’s always there, in the underbelly, underneath it all, and then one day it echoes, like a bass drum or a cymbal. And the echo—the echo is you feeling it. You feel the echo, the all-encompassing echo, even if the love itself’s been there all along.

With Charles, it’s out of the question. You love him. He’s your best friend. You trusted him before you even learned what trust meant, for Chrissake.

How could you not love him? That seemed impossible. The love was there. The love’s always been there and it’ll never go away.

It echoes at half-past-two in Barcelona, when he whips past you on his bike and says on your left. The breeze pulls your hair to the left, covers your face, and when you rake it away he’s stopped to check if he accidentally bumped you in his rush to look cool.

You’re creepily observant; you’ve been told this many times before. What people don’t know is with the observance comes even more questions. Ifs, whys, wheres, whens, hows, God the hows. The questions keep coming because there’s never an answer.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Green eyes glittering like a lake. Smile like the sun. Hair curly at the ends. “Did I hurt you?”

Then you realize. In the matters of love, every question—every single question. Every single one. The answer is Charles.

“Of course not,” you say. And you smile.

—

You almost drop your book in your rush to scurry past the paparazzi. They’re still busy on the two figures (Alex and Lily, you think) on another end of the paddock, which allows you only a few moments to try and evade them.

Others are stationed near the Ferrari hospitality, which means you’re going to need your hideout. Yuki had texted Pierre who had texted Charles who had told you that it was all clear to go there for a few minutes while waiting for the photographers to clear out.

Hurry, Charles is saying. Laughing. His hand’s gentle in yours. You want them there forever. You want to drag the tip of your nail over the barely-perceptible grooves of his fingerprints so he knows how much you need him.

The days post-Spain were spent biking, watching shows, listening to music, eating food. The travel to Canada—long, cold, compression socks. Pascale had called mid-flight to check on her “favorite pair”—you maneuvered yourselves into a much more cuddly position to appease her, and her giddy smile was incentive enough to stay that way for ninety minutes.

You’d been in a weird mental state trying to grapple with your rapidly returning and intensifying feelings for him, which have dawned on you all at once.

But he makes it better. You’re still laughing when you wedge yourselves in, eyes meeting.

And then you’re quiet.

The gaze you share is intense, but almost unsure, like you’re supposed to be looking away anytime now. You step backward shakily, and his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back to keep you from stumbling any further. You’re closer now. But this shouldn’t feel as strange as it does when you two have been in much more scandalous positions before—what’s different?

He’s so close, so so close, his green eyes looking right through you. You lean closer, ready to kiss him like you have before, ready to feel his mouth slot softly over yours, comforting and safe and Charles.

Funnily enough, it’s then that the illusion breaks, his grip loosening and the distance between you increasing. He coughs twice, awkwardly.

“Shit—sorry,” you say profusely, clearly having read the moment wrong. Embarrassment wells up in your system, warming your face. You laugh to diffuse the tension but it barely does anything.

“No, don’t—” He exhales, squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to find words. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I do.”

“So kiss me,” you suggest simply, looking around for anything that might stop him. The embarrassment ebbs away, replaced quickly by confusion. 

“I don’t want to kiss you in an AlphaTauri stock room,” he mopes, burying his head in his hands in clear frustration. “An AlphaTauri stock room.” He repeats it in a hushed whisper, disbelief etched all over his pretty face.

“Charles,” you begin, smiling already, the quaint way that makes his knees go weak every time. “You’re acting like you and I haven’t kissed before.” 

“This is different.” He says firmly, looking away lest he lean in involuntarily. He interjects with conviction, not realizing what he’s implying until the implication’s hanging in the air. The longing kills him softly, and he feels if he looks at you a second longer he’ll kiss you anyway.

It’s a wonderfully confusing feeling. You open your mouth to respond but you can’t; your brain tacks itself onto his sentence, the division created between the kisses before now and the kiss that might happen anytime soon.

“H…” you trail off, throat drying. Blinking, you try again, “How different?”

He looks up, eyes conveying all the things his lips never will. This is different. You know it. I love you this time.

The answer is exchanged and accepted wordlessly. You slip out of the room when Pierre tells you it’s okay to, and it’s only then—only then—that Charles’ hand leaves your body. You seem to burn alive with its absence.

It’s a Ferrari 1-2. You snap a thousand pictures with Isa and Carlos holding Carlos’ trophy while Charles is doing interviews, and they invite you to join them for the break. You’re open to it—the win, the good standings, they definitely warrant a celebration for the few weeks’ break. So your original itinerary is Portugal—beaches, coasts, food—but the jet re-charts a route and the flight is cut much shorter because you’re in New York City.

—

Somewhere in Manhattan, a wedding shower is thrown on an outdoor rooftop. “This is one hell of a wedding shower,” you squeal excitedly when you spot him, bringing Lorenzo in for a hug. Your yellow dress flows in the wind. “I thought you guys were going to throw it in Monaco?”

“Yeah, well… why not here, right? It’s beautiful.” He gestures to the skyline, smiling. “Plus, Charles, Arthur, and Mum were already near the country for work, so we got ahead of it. Everyone was happy to fly out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I love it.” You beam. “I can’t believe it, either. When’s the final date?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the wind is knocked out of him by Charles barreling into his arms for a hug. You roll your eyes at the latter’s childish behavior, smiling despite yourself. They part and Charles finds his place beside you, arm snaking around your shoulders. “What a wedding shower!”

“Don’t flatter me, dipshit,” Lorenzo jokes.

“It’s a lovely one.” Lorenzo thanks him. “An amazing shower. You know, it’s a total golden shower!”

You purse your lips. “Charles—”

“A golden shower, mate. Absolutely.”

That garners at least three odd looks and you calmly place a hand on his chest to whisper don’t ever fucking say that again it means something completely different please don’t embarrass me or your brother. 

For all your embarrassment, you make up for it in having the literal time of your life. The food is good, the city view is amazing, the weather is fair and the music—Desafinado now—is amazing. “I could see myself here,” you say offhandedly to Charles, who nods back with a faint smile. He’s half-distracted.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says, squinting from the sun in his eyes. “Very.”

You part ways at some point—Pascale whisks him off, no doubt for another long round of questioning about your relationship, and you meander around with a glass of champagne.

You’re halfway through swiping a mini quiche when a hand wraps around your wrist and squeezes to get your attention—Charles’ great-aunt Eden. She speaks only intermittent English, and your Italian fails to carry you through well enough, but you smile and greet her. “Ciao, Eden!”

“Ciao, bella.” She smiles. “Flight was long.”

“Oh, yeah. New York’s far. I might work here someday. I’ll hear results in around two weeks, but I’m hoping for London instead.” You slow your speech.

“When will you two wed?”

“Wed?” Your face warms and you stutter through a giggly mess of a sentence. “Oh, Eden—zia—no, no! We’re just friends.”

“My Charles told me you two are to be married.” You both crane your heads to the right, where Charles is leaning against the terrace railing talking to one of your friends, Matthew, animatedly. He meets your eyes, sees Eden beside you, and seems to connect the dots.

Jokingly, perhaps, he raises his hand and wiggles his empty ring finger. You can’t help but smile as you turn back to the old woman. “Oh, did he, zia?”

“Si, he did.”

“Well, we’re just going to let it happen, then. You’re invited. Front row.” You kiss her cheek and she smiles, wobbling off to drink more wine before any of the adults can stop her.

It’s announced then that the dance floor is open, and many of Pascale’s friends filter through to show off their moves to the 70’s music. You watch, amused, at the display of dexterity to Frankie Valli and Aretha Franklin. You cheer them on, content to watch them against the backdrop of the New York sunset.

When Ain’t No Mountain High Enough plays, the dance floor grows, because nobody can resist the song—not even Charles, apparently, who takes your hand without preamble and takes you, squealing, to the centre.

You sing each of the parts, like you always do when the song comes on. It’s semi-tradition at this point: you take Marvin Gaye’s, Charles takes Tammi Terrell’s. You both exaggerate your dance moves and pretend you’re performing.

His hand’s in yours, winding you around and pulling you close. At some point he starts robot dancing to entertain you. It works—you laugh out loud, your eyes half-shut and faced to the stars above. He could write a poem about this. Or a song.

The song ends and you lean onto his shoulder to take a breather—then the photographer swoops in and takes a picture. “That’s going into the RSVPs!” He says, accent unmistakably American.

“Does he know we’re not the couple here?” You ask.

Do we know we’re not the couple? Charles asks himself.

The night escalates as the “oldies” leave, and Matthew, Joris, and Giada join you both for one last round of drinks again. You’re all standing at the exit making conversation; Lorenzo attends to his friends at the other end of the terrace.

“I feel young again,” Matthew says, liberated by Tito’s vodka. He takes another swig and pulls his coat on.

“You’re twenty-five, calm down,” you joke. “Dodged that bullet.” You’re poking fun at the semi-massive crush you had on Matthew in secondary school, and a laugh passes through the four of you. “Anyway, you three be careful. No driving.”

“Jesus, but really—I haven’t been this drunk since you”—he points at you, laughing—“turned seventeen at that club, Amber? No?”

“Oh, God. Y’know, same.” You fail to notice Charles and Giada share a look. “I remember nothing from that night! Or, like, the first two hours at least.”

“I remember drinking my body weight because of heartbreak,” he jeers. 

“Heartbreak? Were you—were you with anyone?” You ask, confused.

It happens before anyone can stop it. “No, when Charles kissed you. And you kissed him after. Alright, night mates! Lorenzo—merci!”

Oh, fuck, you hear in the back of your now-muddled brain. Giada’s voice.

You open and close your mouth. “Ch—wait, he—what?”

“I—let’s talk here,” Charles flounders, dragging you to a more secluded spot and facing you. The three of your friends exit; Giada waves, apologetic. “When… we were at Amber… and you were absolutely hammered, we kissed. It was twice—just twice. And you didn’t, um. Remember a thing.”

You’re unsure. “In Amber?” You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“We… I don’t—I mean, I understand why you don’t remember. We kissed that night.”

“So that’s… Charles… You didn’t tell me.” Your voice quivers, like a wire flicked. “Why didn’t you say it at the time?”

He doesn’t give you an answer. He just looks at the counter, imagines the way your eyebrows furrow, your lips move, eyes glitter. He can’t give you one. He doesn’t want to hurt, disappoint, sadden you. He wants to get on his knees and root you here, so he’ll have all the time in the world to come up with an answer.

“Charles.” But he loves you, and he can at the very least be honest for you. “Look at me.”

“I was scared.” His eyes gravitate to yours.

“Of?”

“It felt stupid, is all. That you didn’t remember, and maybe you did but you were pretending you weren’t. I didn’t—it didn’t—sorry.” He laughs, stutters. “I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything because we didn’t have feelings for each other.” He pauses. “Then.”

“Well,” you say, slow. Eyes stuck to his. “How about now?”

“Now?”

“I love you, now. I mean, isn’t that all this is? Loving? Even if? De—despite of?” 

And this—God. This is how it feels. He’s looking at you and you’re telling him you love him because you do, and finally he’s been over with reassurance.

You love him, too. That way. He trembles with it. His hands are shaky when they lace into yours, like you’re a shrine, a prayer, and he feels like maybe these are the emotions that swirl through the human body when one wins the lottery and gets struck by angry lightning at the same time.

This is it, he thinks. Profound and lovely and an echo of sweet memories. He’s yours. Here in a city unfamiliar to both of you, yet to be conquered, your fingers lace lightly and you smile, smile, smile at each other, as if you’re the last two people on Earth. He’s yours, so foolishly in love with you.

Even far from home, you’re both filled with warmth, with longing. Extended stares, pits of your stomachs welling up with something lovely in between homesickness and nostalgia. Here again, you again, us again—it’ll always be us again, your heart seems to say, surrounded by the same love the same hurt the same sad the same everything, you and me, all the love in the world, all the confusion, we’re here. It’s never over.

Across the terrace, Lorenzo watches. Two figures, laughing, emanating happiness, gentle unkowing love. You two have finally made it here, after what felt like a thousand trials and dreams and stories.

So even if you’re taller, in high heels and a yellow dress—and Charles is broader, in a suit and tie—Lorenzo thinks he can blink and see the two little kids who hosted a tea party in the backyard. He can blink again and see you hugging, eyes shut, his lips pressed to your forehead to convey the intimacy nothing else will do as well. 

“So what now?” You ask. Again with the questions. In your defense—it begs so many follow-up questions. A love so many years in the making—layer after layer after layer—of course it begs all the questions, almost to the point of overwhelming capacity. What’ll we tell Pascale? The fans? The family? Everyone?! 

But one look and he makes it better. His green eyes, bright against the deep black of the skyline. You’ve grown. You’ve done it. You’re here. “We’ll figure it out.” He smiles. “We deserve this kind of ending, don’t you think?”

—

“He has my name.” A tubby finger points to the boy on the greeting card. “That one.”

“And who’s the dog?” Asks the girl beside him, hair wound into a plait. She likes this boy. He’s cute. She plays with the end of her braid and stares, eyes flickering in-between him and the card they’re staring at.

“The name’s right there. They’re best friends.”

“Okay, that’ll be me.”

“So that’s us.”

“Oui.” She smiles. “Charlie and Snoopy.”

–

read an omitted scene here :)

[thehighladywrites]

— “He clearly doesn’t want you!”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: after yoga class you and your friends run into a sweaty, hot, big armed Azriel.

☀︎ — warnings: fluff, azriel get’s hit on by creepy friend, reader punches someone, possessiveness, protective reader, secret relationships come to light, kisses and hugs

☀︎ — amara’s note: thank u guys for the patience, the next one will be smutty👀👀💗

series masterlist

“Oh my god, who is that?” Letty, your sorta friend, exclaims, eyeing the figure behind you from head to toe.

You blink, tilting your head and squinting as if trying to figure out a puzzle. "Who?"

As heads turn to see, anticipation fills the air. The man stands with his back to you, but there's something unmistakable about his shoulders, the way he carries himself. It's Azriel, unmistakably, his muscular frame reminding you of the intimate moments you've shared.

It was yoga day, so you headed to your weekly session at the gym. Never did you imagine you’d see Azriel using some fancy machine. You didn’t even know your boyfriend worked out here; sure, you knew he did, but not here. He looked incredibly good, although you were aware that your so-called friends only looked at his body. If they knew who said body belonged to, they would totally roll their eyes.

It seriously irked you because they never even glanced at campus, but now they were drooling over him. Like, hello? He's totally yours, and it's so annoying to see them fawning over him. Ugh, seriously, can they not see he's off-limits?

"Okay, let’s—let’s just go, I wanna get some food. I'm sooo hungry," you say with a dramatic flair, clutching your stomach and fluttering your eyelashes.

Letty shakes her head, still gazing at your boyfriend. "Hmm, no, I think I’ll go say hi," she says determined, twirling a strand of her hair.

She walks over, putting a hand on his back, making him jump. The move makes you feel murderous as you observe how Azriel is so very obviously uncomfortable. How dare she?

"Hi, I haven’t seen you around. Are you new?" she asks, her hand still lingering on his back.

"Get your hand off of me, you are making me quite uncomfortable," Azriel responds firmly.

"Yeah? We could,like, leave and get comfortable in other ways," she suggests with a suggestive smile.

"Um, I’m good. I really don’t want to leave with you. I’m not available." Azriel replies, his discomfort palpable.

"Oh, come on—"

"Um, hello??? What part of 'no' are you not getting? He clearly doesn't want you," you say with a cute furrow between your perfectly shaped brows, your glossy lips pursing as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping closer to Azriel.

Letty and the rest of your soon-to-be ex-friends look between the three of you with comically large brows.

“Azriel is my boyfriend, and he loves me a lot, and I love him even more, there’s no way he’s going with you. He's mine and mine only, so if any of that clicked for you, i’m going to need you to get your Dollar Tree nails off of him, like right now.” you declare, narrowing your eyes at them, your possessive tone leaving no room for doubt about your feelings for him.

They had never seen you like this before. Usually, you were bubbly, ditzy, a little stupid, but never possessive, cold, and jealous.

Letty lets out a demeaning laugh, looking back at the group who soon start to laugh at demand like dogs.

“Did you say Azriel? That teachers pet guy in your math class? Y/n, do you think I’m stupid? This man is hot, that disgusting loser from your math class is a social reject who’s probably a closeted perv—“

Her words grate on your nerves, and you're fed up with her bitchy attitude. Without another thought, you ball up your fist and punch her straight in the face, of course, very careful of your nails.

Azriel startles a little, pulling you in by the waist before Letty tries something.

“You bitch, you broke my nose!” she yells, clutching her bleeding nose.

You shrug, attempting to wriggle out of Azriel's iron grip to no avail. “You should be thanking me, I mean, your botched nose job needed an upgrade anyway. I’d suggest Dr. Heartman for the fix-up!” you yell the last bit as Azriel drags you away to a secluded corner.

Azriel doesn’t let you go until your erratic breathing has calmed down, and you look up at him with those familiar loved out eyes he loves.

“You okay?” he asks carefully, his brow furrowing with worry.

“Yeah, I’m good. M’sorry you had to see me like that,” you say with a pouty expression, your voice a bit airy. You flash him those adorable doe eyes, your shoulders sagging as you twist your lips.

He nods, still looking concerned. “It’s all good, sweetheart. But are you sure? You didn’t have to do that for me,” he says, his worry evident in his endearing, caring demeanor.

You melted. Even though he was getting uncomfortable and hit on, he was still checking on you. As sweet as it was, you wanted to be the one caring for him in this moment.

“Oh, babe, I would like totally do anything for you! I am so freaking in love with you, I’d totally give up my entire closet for you. And trust me, that’s like, a big deal,” you say with a girly giggle, knowing just how much your clothes meant to you.

But your love for clothes would never ever come close to the love you felt for Azriel.

“But what now? Your friends know about me.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “So? You're not some dirty secret. I want people to know about you.”

“Yeah?”

You got closer, dropped your water bottle and bag before standing on your tippy toes, pressing a sweet, tender kiss on his lips, your heart fluttering with affection.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he returned the kiss. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, never worry about her again, Azzie. I will so punch her if she even dares to look at you,” you declared with fierce determination.

Azriel looked down at you, a tender smile gracing his lips as he kissed the tip of your nose. “I feel safer already. How about we go get some ice cream? Maybe make out in the car?”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and a wide grin spread across your face. He had really gotten more comfortable with expressing his wants and it made you so proud and happy

“I’m so in!”

He changed quickly, holding your hand as you walked out of the gym. As you strolled down the street, he finally voiced the question that had been on his mind.

“So, uh, Dr. Heartman any good?”

You couldn't help but smirk mischievously, lifting your chin. “The absolute worst.”

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl l @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwyniii @scoobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks

[levandright]

𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

their favorite way to show their love for you is through — quality timeꜝꜝ

if you enjoyed reading this consider leaving a like or reblog ᐢ..ᐢ

pairing ⋆ ot7 enhypen x gn reader! ʬʬ content / warning(s) ⋆ tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, so so much comfort, idol au but not mentioned much—only in heesung's & jungwon's ꕀ word count : 1605 ʬʬ go back to the start?

ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : this is my favorite work atm 💜 it's fluff galore! (my specialty) thank you again to my dearest friend who has to look through my messy draft to turn this to super high quality! jungwon's part perfectly connects with the first work for this drabble series which i am so proud of. while writing i had to look up what the members liked to do so i could make it more special for each of them (thank you p.duck wiki i couldn't have done this without u🫶🏻)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

heesung loves playing games with you. it’s one of the many hobbies you both share, and it’s part of what brought you so close in the first place.

you're in the living room, surrounded by snacks and drinks scattered across the coffee table in front of the couch, playing animal crossing. the apartment door swings open, and heesung steps in, visibly tired as he makes his way over to you.

you slide over to make space for him, patting the cushion beside you. “how was practice?” you ask, reaching up to gently brush a few stray hairs from his face.

“mmm, it was alright,” he murmurs, the weariness clear in his voice.

you nod, understanding the unspoken exhaustion in his tone. standing up, you head to his room and grab his nintendo switch, then return to hand it to him with a smile.

“here you go. come join my island—i've got a whole new layout to show you.”

heesung’s gaze softened, his eyes brimming with a quiet adoration. the corners of his lips lifted into a serene smile, contentment woven into every delicate line of his face.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

jay loves spending time cooking with you. there’s something about it that makes him feel so at home.

you and jay decided to cook a homemade coconut chicken curry together for dinner. you put on your favorite playlist, roll up your sleeves, and begin cooking.

as you chop the garlic and onions, jay leans over with a grin and steals a piece of bell pepper, only for you to swat his hand away playfully.

"patience! you’ll get to eat soon enough,” you laugh. jay winks, then moves on to roast the cumin, coriander, and turmeric, filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma.

when the time to add the spices came, jay gestures dramatically, sprinkling them like a “chef,” which makes you laugh so hard you almost drop the spoon on your hand.

he jokes, “you’re looking at a future culinary star.” you roll your eyes, smudging a dab of coconut milk on his cheek in response. you both burst out laughing, realizing the mess you just made.

as the curry simmers, you sneak tastes from the pot, adjusting the seasonings together.

"a little more salt?" you suggest, and jay nods, adding a pinch.

when the curry is finally ready, jay serves it up with fluffy rice. as he places your serving in front of you, you take a moment to appreciate the effort you both put into making the dish. you glance at each other and share a smile.

then, you dig in, savoring not just the delicious meal but the laughter, teamwork, and little moments that made it all so special.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

jake loves going shopping with you. it’s a chance for you both to bond over your love of fashion, and a way for him to spoil you with new clothes.

jake finally has time to spend with you after so long apart. you both decide to make the most of it by shopping for new outfits together.

you're on the hunt for a fresh hoodie and some sneakers, while jake’s hoping to find a cool jacket. you head to your favorite store, filled with oversized tees, cargo pants, and graphic hoodies.

you spots an oversized hoodie with a bold graphic print and hold it up, asking, “what do you think? too much?”

jake grins, “it’s perfect—definitely your style. try it on!” you head to the fitting room, while he waits outside, he chuckles when you come out and do a little spin to show off the fit.

in another aisle, jake picks up a black bomber jacket with a bright orange lining. you nudge him, “you have to try that one on!” he rolls his eyes but puts it on, then strikes a dramatic pose in the mirror. you snap a quick photo and laugh, “yep, this one’s a keeper.”

you end up finding matching bucket hats and take a few selfies, laughing as you try out different poses. afterwards, you go grab some bubble tea and chat about all the new outfits you'll put together.

your day of shopping leaves you feeling stylish and closer than ever.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

sunghoon loves working out with you. exercising together and encouraging each other to do your best at the gym makes it all the more rewarding.

you’d told sunghoon a couple of months ago about your new goal to take better care of your body, and he’d immediately suggested working out together. “we’ll keep each other motivated,” he’d said, with that reassuring smile.

now, two months later, your efforts are paying off, and you can feel it. as you and sunghoon finish another round of weights, you catch your reflection in the gym mirror, noticing a subtle definition in your arms and a healthy glow on your face. sunghoon notices too, giving you a proud grin.

“look at you!” he says, playfully nudging your shoulder. “you’ve been working hard— told you it’d make a difference.”

you laugh, catching your breath. “i couldn’t have done it without you,” you admit. “there were so many days I wanted to skip, but you kept me going.”

sunghoon gives a thoughtful nod. “same for me. having you here pushes me to keep at it too.” he grabs his water bottle, holding it out in a toast-like gesture. “to us the ultimate workout team.”

you clink bottles with a laugh, feeling a surge of pride and energy for how far you’ve come together.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

sunoo loves doing skincare with you, taking the time to admire your beauty and simply enjoy your company.

“i’m telling you—this face mask is amazing!” sunoo reassures, noticing your hesitation as he holds up a minty green jar.

knowing your boyfriend’s obsession with skincare, you decide to trust his words. “it better make these acne spots disappear,” you mutter, eyeing yourself in the mirror. sunoo’s face lights up, nodding eagerly.

“of course it will, darling! what else would you expect from one of my recommendations?” he dips a soft brush into the mask and motions for you to sit down. “i'll do it for you. just hold still.”

you sit down, and he leans in close, brushing the cool mask onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead, his focus so intense you can’t help but smile. the tingling sensation feels refreshing, and sunoo nods approvingly.

“perfect! now we let it sit for fifteen minutes, and then I’ll show you my face massage technique.”

you raise an eyebrow. “face massage?”

“trust me, you’ll glow.” he applies the mask to himself too, and as you wait, he makes you laugh with funny stories from his day. when the timer goes off, he gently washes off the mask for you, then hands you a towel.

you examine your face in the mirror, noticing the brightness. sunoo grins, smug. “stick with me, and we’ll have you glowing in no time.”

you smile, nudging him. “alright, skincare guru. I’m convinced.”

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

jungwon loves taking spontaneous walks with you, savoring your presence as you stroll together through the streets at night.

the cool night air wraps around you as you and jungwon wander through the quiet streets. the city lights cast a soft glow, illuminating the path as you stroll side by side, soaking in the stillness of the evening. he needed this—a break from the demands of his idol life—with his number one supporter and love: you.

jungwon’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that feels both familiar and comforting.

“isn’t it peaceful?” he murmurs, looking up at the stars peeking through the city lights. you nod, glancing over at him, noticing the small smile tugging at his lips as he takes in the night.

he suddenly stops, pulling you gently to a halt. “wait here for a second,” he says, darting into a nearby convenience store. when he returns, he’s holding two cups of hot cocoa, steam curling from the tops. he hands you one, his eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

you sip, feeling the warmth spread through you, and jungwon gives your hand a light squeeze. “i just love these walks with you,” he says softly. “no rush, no plans—just us.”

you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder as you continue down the quiet streets, savoring the simple, beautiful moment together.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

riki loves playing soccer with you. whether you’re skilled or not, just running around the field and laughing together helps him forget all his worries.

the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the soccer field as you and riki race around, laughing as you chase after the ball. he’s quick, weaving past you with ease, but every so often, he’ll slow down just enough for you to catch up, grinning as you make a playful attempt to steal the ball.

“think you’re gonna get past me?” he teases, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

you laugh, lunging forward and managing to tap the ball away. riki’s mock gasp of surprise makes you laugh harder, and soon you’re both stumbling around, barely able to stay on your feet from the giggles.

when he finally catches up to you, he taps the ball back and watches as it rolls across the field. for a moment, he just stands there, catching his breath, a relaxed smile on his face. “you know,” he says, looking over at you, “i really needed this.”

you raise an eyebrow. “needed what? me beating you at soccer?”

riki chuckles, shaking his head. “just... having fun and forgetting about everything for a while. thanks for playing with me.”

you smile, nudging his shoulder. “anytime, riki.”

perm taglist. @honeychocos @kozumesphone @lilly-cherry7 @manaah02 (perm taglist open!)

©levandright

[predestinatos]

we so lowkey - OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (x tiny bit of charles at the beginning)

summary: "the game is called truth or dare for a reason" | 5k words. warnings underneath. MINORS DNI.

tags: smut, sort of stoner!oscar, jealous charles to drive the plot, college student reader, dirty talking.

warnings: drugs (weed), cigarettes, (consensual) unprotected sex, backshots, a lot of dirty talking, oral (male and female receiving), double orgasm.

notes: sorry for the delay, i have been on a writing slump (ignore the fact that this is 5k words long...) and trying to enjoy my last days with my bf before he leaves on erasmus!! but i hope you guys like this one. lmk your thoughts and thank u for ur patience always!

"I am not getting drunk today" you said, putting your foot down. "I can take tipsy, but not drunk" your friend laughed at your comment but nodded in agreement, both of you acknowledging the fact that you had to calm yourselves down now that exams season approached. "It's just a small get together either way" your friend replied, shrugging. your clothes scattered across your clean room, an off-putting contrast you couldn't avoid. "You know a 'small get together' usually means at least 30 people" you applied lipstick in front of your closet mirror as you observed your friend through it. "He's here" your friend whispered as you entered the living room of the dorm room heavily decorated with alcohol and LED lights. She needn't say who she was referring to, for the name sounded forbidden yet that's what made it so enticing. grabbing yourself a drink and glancing around the room, you realized it really was a rather small group. it seemed comprised of around 20 people, the girl to boy ratio very balanced. if you didn't know better, you'd say this was planned. the first sip of alcohol touched your tongue and you swallowed happily, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music along with your friend. "Will you hate me if i leave you for a second?" she asked, lips close to your ear in nervous secrecy. you merely looked at her brown doe eyes and smiled, the best answer you could give her. You were both in college for more than grades - you were there for the full experience. the regrets, the bodies, the hands, the flirting, the waking up with a headache - it was all part of this phenomenal journey that lasted around 3 years, and you'd enjoy every single one of them. so as she left to go talk to someone, you knew you'd be fine. Of course you would, because as if he was waiting, Charles approached you, all strong perfume smell and smug attitude approaching you. "Didn't know you were coming" his eyes look down at you as he remains close but without touching you, daring you to make the first move. "Me neither, or I wouldn't have come" you spat, eyes shotting up at his, expression unchanging and unaffected, almost please with the reply. cocking his head to the side he brought his hand to your chin, stroking it softly yet teasingly. "You were never good at that when it comes to me" he said, clinking his plastic cup against yours, mocking you in a frustrating yet attractive way. you we're supposed to be having fun, fucking around and getting to know how other bodies fit in your bed, yet for the entirety of this year Charles Leclerc had been the one fulfilling that duty. It frustrated you, how you were so addicted to how he felt and made you feel, how the two of you had more than chemistry, creating friction during lectures and letting it all out during the night.

You weren’t exclusive, nor did you discuss feelings – something the both of you appreciated, since this back and forth between you two was pleasurable enough and it had absolutely zero strings attached. Breathing in deeply, you decided to simply strike him back the way you two enjoyed “what can I say, I’m a good actress.”

He exhaled through his nose with a smile that recognized your humor and your momentary win, a ‘touché’ leaving his lips in perfect French, attractive enough to make you take another sip of your drink in order to focus on something else.

Minutes pass with the music blasting and you and Charles going back and forth between dancing and teasing each other, your mutual attraction clear to everyone around. Yet, after a while, the volume lowered as someone announce “truth or dare! Everyone gather in a circle on the floor please!”

Everyone complied – easily so, given the fact that there weren’t that many people in the room, making it extra personal and giving everyone a chance to talk and meet each other, something you didn’t particularly do. After around 2 minutes, everyone sat enthusiastically, talking to each other with slightly lightheaded giddiness that only came after the right amount of drinks. To your left sat your best friend, side eyeing you disapprovingly at the person to your right – Charles. “Way to meet new people” she said, ironically. Pretending to be mad wasn’t her forte, as she laughed slightly at your predictableness and you shrugged, “c’est la vie!”  “And now you’re speak French?”

The host – a beautiful girl with the most amazing curly hair and prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, sat down and clapped her hands, an “alright!” coming out of her exhale. “We will spin this bottle twice: first chooses truth or dare, second gives the truth or dare. Be interesting, please!” she explained, causing everyone to laugh excitedly.

The bottle spun, landing on a boy who you were sure had had a thing for your friend for the longest time. “Dare” he decided as the bottle spun once again, landing on Charles. “I dare you to text ‘I miss you’ to the 6th person in your contacts” he said smuggishly. Everyone ‘oooh��ed as the boy grabbed his phone and searched for said contact. “Fuck-“ he exhaled, frustrated, “it’s my ex.” Charles merely laughed as he said “those are the rules!” nonchalantly placing a hand on your upper thigh without even a glance. Before you could ask, the boy’s voice exclaimed “done!” as he showcased his screen to everyone in a circle, the hand on your thigh disappearing as fast as it arrived.

A couple of rounds went by, you asking one person about their shittiest sexual experience and more drinks being poured as people kissed each other after being dared to, when, around the 9th time, the bottle landed on the dark brown eyed boy you and your friend always found adorable. His name was Oscar, and he usually kept to himself, coming to these get togethers and hanging out with his own friends shyly, occasionally smoking but never getting too drunk or too high. “Truth” he said, his voice deep and sweet like a caress, contrasting with the way he fidgeted nervously in his seat. For the second time, the bottle landed on Charles, who rubbed is hand in a mockingly villainous way. “Oscar… Who in this circle have you had fantasies about?”

Oscar instantaneously blushes, hand running through his hair nervously with a shy smile across his face, revealing an adorable set of teeth that made you smile as well. “Fuck’s sake…” he exhaled softly, before downing his drink quickly in order to provide him with some confidence to reply. “I’m gonna regret this” he repeats, everyone jokingly complaining about the suspense he was creating. “I’m sorry in advance, Charles” he exclaims, before his arm lifts towards you and your eyes cross. Still bushing but with a darker expression, almost as if reviewing some thoughts he had, his gaze pierced yours making you feel as if he could show you his own thoughts. Everyone ‘oooo’ed once again, clapping and drinking, despite Charles’ body tensing slightly as he said “sorry for what?”

Oscar merely shrugged, “for anything”, an apologetic smile showing up, one you couldn’t ignore.

The game lasted only a few more rounds until the small crowd distracted themselves with each other, getting up to get more drinks and not returning due to slightly drunk forgetfulness. However, even that small amount of time was enough to feel the palpable tension whenever Oscar’s eyes crossed yours, a quick glance away and joke throwing making you almost believe like you had imagined everything. His nonchalant persona combined with the knowledge that he had thought of you in other contexts drew you in, the same way your instant shyness and inability to look away only intensified his desires.

The boy next to you, however, was tenser than you had ever seen him, despite his great attempts at hiding it. Even before you could confront him about it, Charles’ excused himself, claiming that he had an exam first thing in the morning. Eyebrows furrowed, you knew that wasn’t true, but he merely kissed your cheek goodbye and closed the door behind you.

You were frustrated. In more ways than one, your body still very much coherent to take things lightly and carefree. Your leg shook up and down nervously as your best friend sat next to you in a couch, talking to an attractive girl she had her eyes on for a while. Tapping her shoulder lightly, you motioned the ‘gonna smoke’ sign with your hands, to which she smiled in recognition.

Opening the closest window to the balcony that oversaw the city, cold air hitting your lungs, you let your back hit the wall and let out a much needed breath. Grabbing a cigarette, you placed it between your lips as you searched for your lighter, the closeness of the relief imminent in your veins. The technicolor lights shone bright, cars moving like fireflies dancing to the rhythm of the song.

It was white noise that calmed you, the muffled sound of the music restarting in the house as you took more drags of your cigarette. You were so immersed in the sheer act, as if it was a meditation technique, that you barely noticed the light brown haired boy opening and closing the window, placing himself next to you, with a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Have some light?” he asked, and you jumped at the sound of his voice, the realization he was there. You nodded and handed him your lighter, and he thanked you as he lit up a perfectly wrapped blunt. “Sorry, by the way” he exhaled, along with the smoke that got out of his mouth, eyes roaming through the landscape in front.

“No problem, I get startled easily” you replied, admiring his side profile. His features were both hard and soft, eyes shining brightly in such a relaxed expression it mesmerized you, the way he let out a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m not apologizing for that,” he started, filling his lungs once again. “I’m apologizing for earlier.”

This time, he turned his head towards you, and you noticed his flushed cheeks, slight embarrassment still showing even as his body and mind relaxed. “For saying you fantasize about me or for saying sorry to Charles?” you asked, daringly. It had offended you, hurt you, even, that he had apologized to Charles as if the guy owned you, as if that answer needed to pass some sort of approval from him before becoming valid.

Oscar merely shrugged, “both, I suppose.” His eyes seemed a bit sleepier already as they rather shamelessly roamed your body, followed by his head resting against the wall as he looked up. You felt the tension, electrifying both your bodies already, shivers invading your body – maybe from the cold, maybe from the sheer presence of his indifferent frame.

“Was it true?” the question hung the air for a few seconds after it left your lips, your cigarette now almost over. “Depends on if you want it to be true or not,” a dazed giggle mixed between his words.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t” you crossed your arms in front of your chest after putting out your cigarette in the ashtray next to the balcony. His gaze turned to yours, lowering towards your chest before moving back to your eyes. “The game is called truth or dare for a reason” he answered, leaning sideways against the wall so he could look at you fully.

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, though you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to how he played out this nonchalant persona, the indifference contrasting with his words making your body burn.

 “And that,” he started, the hand holding the blunt pointing towards you, in a upwards and downwards movement. “That’s exactly why I have them.” Confusion invaded your mind as you failed to understand what his words meant, although his brown eyes remained on you as if revisiting every thought he ever had. “What?”

“You’re a tease without even realizing it,” he started, closing the distance between you a bit more, eyes glued to your lips as if fighting the urge to kiss you. “Describe them for me” you whispered, using your closeness to your advantage.

“How about I show you?” he whispered back, breath hot against your ear as his index finger ran along the exposed skin of your neck. Though you tensed, feeling your entire body respond to his suggestion, mouth watering, you wanted to play a bit more.

“What about ‘sorry, Charles’?” you mouthed, irony laced all over your smirk as you looked up at him lustfully. Oscar’s gaze scans the inside of the apartment quickly, more figuratively than literally, before turning back to you. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”

His index finger brushed your chin, forcing your gaze towards yours once more. “If I were him I would’ve made sure you only craved me.”

“How?” your voice was hoarse and breathy, your thighs slowly clenching at the need for touch. “Let’s just say my name would be the only thing you’d be able to utter.”

Your eyebrows raised and your breath got stuck in your throat as his lips brushed against you. You felt almost embarrassed at the effect his words and demeanor had on you, requiring little to no touch to get a reaction out of your entire body. This was not the Oscar Piastri you knew from a couple of shared classes, who sat at the back and always left first, who remained in his own zone at parties, interacting with a couple of closest friends. The fact that he was showing a more daring, direct and sexual attitude towards you felt like a compliment, exclusivity being silently attributed to you.

“Didn’t take you for such a fuckboy” you commented, almost as if making sure that this wasn’t actual his usual move, something everybody knew but didn’t talk about, a party trick he commonly used. He chuckled slightly, so close to you that you could see his throat bobbing up and down in though and feel his scent – some very light perfume that faded slightly due to the smell of the joint he was now finishing. “And I’m not,” he smiled, “I just know what I want. And I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning every inch of you with lust, dropping to your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, before returning to your eyes.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, ravenous and hungry for you. Your hands were on his soft hair, tugging it ever so slightly as his tongue teased yours and his breathing increased. Gripping your waist, Oscar pinned you against the balcony wall, the people on the other side of it disappearing from both of your minds as soon as you touched. His kissed matched him so well – so careless yet not aggressive nor bad, just confident and slow paced, as if possessing all the time in the world to enjoy every part of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the novelty of it, how different he was, how his touch left your body burning with freezing need for more.

His lips curved into a smile upon hearing you, an aroused gleefulness displayed in between kisses, fueling an ever growing necessity inside both of you. One of his hands rose to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek sweetly, that touch so opposite from his grip that claimed you as his for a moment.

As soon as that moment came, it went away, his face distancing from yours, one of his hands attempting to fix the mess you had made of his hair. “I need you so bad right now” he whispered, cursing to himself at the loss of composure he ensured he had built. You merely stared at his disheveled look, frustrated desire written across his body as his brown eyes seemed to darken as time went by. You did not dare to speak, afraid no words would come out, brain foggy from sharing the absolute same wish as his: to continue what you started, to finish it completely.

“My dorm room is literally right above this one” he said after a few seconds, steading his breath in order to seem calmer, more relaxed and casual about the clear tension between you. You knew what he meant and knew he wouldn’t be elaborating any further. Knew he would simply go to his room and wait, watching tv as if you showing up – or not – wouldn’t influence much of his night. Like whatever was happening wasn’t happening, like he didn’t just say he needed you.

You replied with a nod as he opened the door and climbed inside, knowing that when you entered that kitchen he wouldn’t be there anymore. You waited a few more minutes, smoking another cigarette as you considered your options, tried to clear your head and think rationally, yet it was hard as every part of your body ached for more of him, your legs weak just from the kiss you shared on the balcony. Finishig your smoke, you climbed inside the kitchen, where people remained unaware of what happened outside, as if you belonged to two different channels that now intertwined.

You searched for your best friend, wanting to let her know where you were going, reassuring that she needn’t worry but that you’d be just one floor above in case she needed something. Finding her was harder than you thought, minutes passing with you growing more nervous at the prospect of Oscar having given up on you, thinking you had done the same with him. Had he more options? Was he this open with every woman he found attractive? These thoughts clouded your mind as your eyes crossed with your best friend’s and she ran towards you. Tipsy, but not drunk. Good. You both filled each other in on what you had missed during the short time you weren’t next to each other, promising to be close if any of you were in need. Her good luck wink gave you all the approval you needed to leave that dorm room and head towards the upper floor.

The floor vibrated with the music underneath – Oscar wasn’t lying when he said it his room was right above – every beat pulsating with energy that matched your own beating heart. Your nervous hands knocked on the door, your mind too aware of your stance, wondering what would be considered normal in a situation like this. But all those thoughts evaporated your mind as the door opened and you were greeted with the mesmerizing view of the boy you had just made out with.

His hair was slightly damp, indicating that he had taken a shower, or was in the middle of one, as you noticed some droplets running across his smooth skin and a towel lazily wrapped around his hips. You felt hypnotized by his slight smirk and unpreoccupied appearance as he step aside to let you in. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t come” he commented as he pointed towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, sitting casually next to you. “Hence the look” he continued, giggling slightly.

You were too aware of how naked he was and how little he seemed to care about it. He kept a comfortable distance between you, as if allowing you to stand up and leave were you to change your mind. But that wasn’t even an option to you as his eyes landed on your lips, lingering in there before he gently shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “God, you have me wrapped around your finger” his tone was half joke, half truth, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, how you seemed to so effortlessly produce such an effect on him.

“Well, I was promised something” you shrugged teasingly, your confidence growing as you realized how much he craved you, how this was something he actually wanted for a while. With your comment, his eyes shot back to you, and his body quickly followed, hovering above yours, droplets of water falling delicately on your face as he looked down at you, hands placed on each side of your head. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hungrily, crossing your legs tightly trying to relieve some of the need you were feeling.

Oscar’s eyes remained on your face as he stopped your legs with his own. “No” he whispered with assertion. “You want me to show you want I imagine doing to you, then you’ll have to play your part and look pretty while at it.”

You were shocked at his words and actions and how they affected you, making it so the only thing you could do in response was nod. Your eyes wanted to wander to where the towel threatened to unwrap himself, but Oscar’s soft finger lifted your chin towards him. “Eyes on me” despite it being a command, his voice indicated anything but that. It was calm and reassuring, confident but not cocky.

His thumb grazed across your lower lip, fondling it gently before opening your mouth subtly. He inserted his index and middle finger inside your mouth, pushing smoothly against your tongue. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around them, sucking on them, your tongue playing with his skin as you maintained eye contact. “Fuck” he cursed, muscles trembling from trying to keep his position and composure.

After some seconds, he removed his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own lips, hungrily possessing you. As he did this, causing your brain to go lightheaded and register little to nothing at all apart from his touch and tongue caressing you, his hand slid down your exposed stomach to the inside of your jeans. Your arms were around his neck, trying to pull him closer despite the impossibility of it – but you needed more. More of him, of his touch and of his body on yours.

His finger caressed your clit softly, satisfying your needs in part, but simultaneously leaving you more frustrated. You couldn’t help but whimper, trying to grind against his teasing hand, hips moving almost instinctively, which caused a sensuous chuckle to leaving his lips. “You sound even better than what I imagined,” his finger dipped lowered towards your entrance, teasing it, playing with your own desperate hunger. “And you’re wetter, too.”

You moaned at his words, and despair invaded your brain, your hands rushing to unbutton your pants and giving Oscar all the liberty of movement, a silent plea for the feeling of him inside you. Your walls clenched around nothing when he pulled your top up, revealing your exposed breasts. His eyes lingered on them as he tasted you, placing his fingers in his mouth while his other hand removed the towel from around his waist.

Finally, you thought, throwing your own jeans on the floor, red lace panties covering little to nothing of the lower half of your body.

His erection sprang free as he dropped the towel as well, the tip glistening with pre cum, its entire length throbbing. His hand wrapped around it as he took the entire sight of you in, eyelids revealing a drunken thrill as his breath became more irregular.

“I thought about this so many fucking times” he started, not with longing but with a primal urge to have you, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice that caused your whole body to erupt in need. “Come here”

Oscar positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the couch, continuously stoking himself as you moved towards him on all fours, not daring to look away from the sheer sight of him. Pulling your hair, he directed your face towards his erection, pressing it against your lips. You opened your mouth and enveloped him slowly, savoring the salty taste of him as your tongue explored his length. Each one of your caresses made him groan and sigh in pleasure, your head bobbing up and down underneath him.

The sight of you was beautifully overwhelming to him, especially as you started grinding your hips against nothing at all. “Fuck, if I knew you wanted it this bad I would… I would’ve done this earlier” he struggled to say, mesmerized at how your eyes looked up at him, ecstasy-filled.

You moaned against his cock, vibrations traveling throughout his body as he jerked his hips up, deeper into you, more than what you thought possible. You teared up with the suddenness of it, though it made you dizzy with pleasure.

That pleasure was short-ended as his hand pulled your hair softly, an indication for you to stop. As he removed himself from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connected you both, your lips now swollen and red, shiny with spit.

Oscar lowered himself in order to kiss you while laying you on the sofa once again, his mouth leaving wet marks all over your body until it reached the area underneath your bellybutton. He blew softly on your skin, and goosebumps invaded your body as he pulled your underwear down and off of you, hands now placed around your thighs, opening them with fervor. Before you could register the coldness hitting your now exposed skin, his face buried in between your legs, licking you softly as his damp hair touched the skin on your thighs.

The warmth of his mouth contrasted with his still-wet hair, your mind clouded by wanting to wrap your legs around him and the instinct to pull away from the cold. He grinned against your wet pussy before sucking your clit, your hands flying towards his hair, pushing him against you.

“So needy…” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could bury two fingers into you and keep his attention on your clit, devouring you. His tongue sent your body into frenzied shivers, his name escaping your lips incoherently. His fingers intensified their pace, sliding in and out of you and curling inside you. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbled, “and my name sounds so good when you whimper it” he now looked at you intently, analyzing your pleasure with so much attention it almost made you blush – were your cheeks not red due to the heat of the desire. It was all so much, so much you couldn’t focus on it all, your body erupting into an orgasm, walls pulsating around his fingers, his gaze adoring your body and all of its movements.

Your chest rose and fell almost as fast as your heart beat, and you giggled, actually giggled, from how lightheaded you felt. “I need to see and hear that again” he stared, more than asked you, although he remained in place, only his hand slowly pulling out from inside you, covered in your juices. He wasted no time in wrapping it around his own erection, now even more visibly hungry for something – someone. You.

“Please” he pleaded, suddenly looking so greedy, so needy and desperate. For some reason, this reignited the desire within you, and although your body was still recovering from the intoxicating orgasm, you were ready to do it all again.

“Do I keep going in your fantasy?” you asked, voice hoarse and breathy. His eyes widened slightly, the pace of his movement as he worked himself up increased as he nodded. “Then why are you asking me?” you told him, the fact that you consented implicit in your tone, your legs spreading apart for him to gawk at.

He barely needed two seconds before positioning himself between your legs once again, the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. “You’re soaking” he tried saying, stumbling across some vowels due to his own excitement. “I don’t know if I can last much” he slowly entered you, savoring as every inch buried deeper inside you, “you drive me fucking crazy.”

Your eyes rolled the back of your head at how he filled you up, at his praise as he did so, at how good he sounded when incoherence and pleasure laced his words. His hips moved, at first in a slow, consistent, pace, which quickly changed after some seconds, along with his breathing.

His eyebrows furrowed as your nails dug into his back, the sudden pain feeling so thrilling when mixed with the pleasure of being inside you. “Turn around” he said, pulling himself out of you for less than a second, giving you only time to lay on your stomach with your ass in the air.

That position allowed for him to go even deeper inside you, to hear you scream in pleasure as your own hand touched your clit in desperate need for more release. “You like that?” he asked in between breaths, knowing he could barely hold it any longer.

You tried saying the word ‘yes’ but even that failed you, your vision cloudy and your head foggy as you felt him close to release. His moans increased in loudness and intensity, your name being one of the few coherent things he could say before pulling himself out of you and orgasming, his cum spread across your back.

You couldn’t do anything but succumb to your own pleasure erratically, the simultaneous nature of your orgasms driving you into your own craziness.

Your body collapsed on the couch as his pressed tightly against you, both of you trying to gather your thoughts. Lying on his back, his head now looking at the ceiling, Oscar turned to you softly. “Want to sleep over?”

Your plan was not going to work.

[sorrowsofsilence]

the bet 2 • bad omens

pairing: all bad omens members x fem!reader

words: 11.4k • read part one here !

warnings: 18+, gang bang, voyeurism, fwb and lust, (penetration- pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!masturbating, male!receiving, fem!receiving, swearing, nicknames: princess, pretty girl, good girl, slight choking), masks, jealousy, you are the bet.

summary: It's time for a new game. who can make you back out first?

note: i mean, there is plot, but this is straight-up filth lmao, i hope you enjoy . I'm so honoured everyone enjoyed part 1 enough to warrant a second one- thank you for the love and patience <3

Disclaimer: This is fiction. This is not real, and I do not know the boys. It is all made up, and I am not implying the boys act the way they do in my stories, in real life, or would do the things in my stories. this is all just for fun! it is fiction!

+

Looking over at Noah, he ran his fingers through the onyx strands with a nervous smile.

“A bet Noah? Really?”

He nodded, and then the bus door opened, revealing the other boys.

They cursed under their breath as you folded your arms, shaking your head in amusement.

“So who won?” You pried, eyes lingering on each of them for a moment.

“Definitely not fucking me,” Matt mumbled, annoyed.

“I don’t think any of us did,” Ruffilo spoke slowly, looking at each of his friends.

Rocking on your toes you chewed back a smile, “Then I bet I can make you do it all over again.”

+++++

Twisting and turning in your bunk that night, you found yourself unable to sleep as thoughts of the boys consumed your mind.

You were nothing more than a pawn in their game- a bet to be wagered.

But did you care?

No, you didn't. That was the strange part that kept you turning in your sheets as your head filled with their laughs, moans, and promises. You were a toy they played with, sure. But you were a game they all wanted to win, a prize they all openly desired; and really, you wanted them too.

Silence filled the bus, the only sound being the soft snores from the bunks around you. It was late and everyone had retreated to their own space after the revelation of the bet. Their faces had been a comical mix of shock and embarrassment when you had boldly challenged them.

Noah's stunned expression, his eyes wide and dark in the dim light of the bus as he stared at you in disbelief. Ruffilo's mouth had formed a small 'o', while Jolly let out a low whistle, his laughter echoing around the confined space. Matt had merely glared at them all before storming off.

Sitting up in your bunk, you ran your hand through your hair, your mind recalling each touch and each moment you shared with them. Jolly’s rough hands against your chin, Folio’s soft lips on your own, Ruffilo’s gentle caresses that sent shivers down along your limbs- and Noah’s unyielding desire that left you panting and lusting for more.

And Matt… Matt hadn't had his turn yet.

Your eyes flickered towards his bunk through the crack of your curtain. The darkness of the bus made it hard to see, but you knew he was there.

The thought of what could be had your heart racing, and your skin tingling with anticipation. You could imagine his strong hands on you, the roughness of his voice whispering your name into the night.

His touch was a mystery, one that ignited your curiosity more than you'd care to admit.

The two of you have always been close, ever since you met and got the job with the crew in the first place. You always thought he was attractive, but never imagined pushing the friendship boundary.

Until now.

His anger and frustration from not being involved in the bet left you chewing on your lip, and shaking your head as you stared up at the ceiling. Was he as invested in you as the others?

With a racing mind again, circling thoughts of what could happen next consumed you; until you heard a string of soft moans from the bunk across from yours.

Startled, you turned your head, listening intently. A whistle of low and hushed pants rang through the hallway as if the person responsible was desperately trying to suppress them.

But there was no mistaking it; those soft moans belonged to Matt.

His name was a whisper in the otherwise silent bus, your heart pounding as you listened to the muffled sounds coming from his bunk. Imagining what he could be doing to himself in the dark left you breathless, your mind fantasizing about touching him- the thrusting of his hips into your hand.

A flush of heat spread through your body at the thought and, before you knew it, you had slipped out of your bunk towards his.

You hesitated for a moment, uncertainty creeping into your mind. But then another moan echoed in the silence, and any doubts evaporated.

Swallowing nervously, you took a deep breath and reached out to pull the curtain of his bunk back slightly. You squinted through the dark, noticing how Matt was lying on his back, one hand hidden under the blanket which moved in an obvious rhythm.

His eyes were squeezed shut, sweat glistening on his forehead in the dim light, while his other hand gripped the edge of his bunk tightly as if trying to anchor himself to reality.

Another moan escaped his lips, and it took every ounce of your self-control not to pounce on him right there. But you were not here to just satisfy your desires; you wanted Matt – needed him – to admit he wanted you too.

“Matt,” Your voice was a whisper, barely audible above the hushed moans escaping from his lips. His eyes shot open at the sound of your voice, surprise and panic quickly replacing the pleasure on his face.

"H-hey, can I help you with something?" He coughed, trying to sound nonchalant even though his voice was strained. He quickly sat up, nervously glancing at your eyes.

You bit your lip, considering your answer. You could turn away right now, pretend you heard nothing, and let it become a secret between the two of you.

But there was a thrill in taking risks, a thrill that made your pulse quicken as you looked at him lying there, clearly aroused.

“No,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was hammering in your chest. “I just thought that maybe I could help you with something.”

His eyes grew wide for a split second before he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. The blonde’s hand stilled under the blanket as he studied your face, trying to determine whether you were serious or not.

Instead, his eyebrows arched at your response, a curious look flashing across his face that quickly turned into understanding.

He reached out to pull you down onto his bunk and you complied with a small smile, sliding in next to him. The heat from his body radiated against your skin, making you shiver with anticipation. His hands danced along the curve of your waist before settling on your hips, pulling you closer.

“You sure?” He asked, his voice just as hushed as yours.

Matt’s ears rang with excitement. He had wanted anything crossing the boundary of friendship with you for the longest time. He had been in it for the long game- which was why it pissed him off that the boys made such a wager without him days ago.

As an answer, you reached out to touch the tent in his blanket, causing a soft gasp to leave his lips at the contact. You felt a rush of heady satisfaction at his sound, and you watched him directly as you nodded.

Your breath hitched at the feel of him hardened against your hand, catching a glimpse of his hooded eyes in the dim light, gaze burning with desire.

That's all it took for you to lose control—the sight of him looking at you that way, the feel of his hands greedily reaching down your waist to begin exploring your body.

In an instant, you were leaning down to kiss him, tasting the sweet desperation in his mouth as he returned your kiss with equal fervour.

His fingers entwined in your hair as the kiss deepened, eliciting a soft moan from your lips that he immediately swallowed.

Matt smiled into your mouth at your response, his touches becoming bolder as the hand on your waist squeezed down your thighs hungrily.

His hands were everywhere—running back up your back as you reached for his erection, gliding the tips of your fingers along his skin before wrapping a hand around him, moving in soft strokes.

"You're playing with fire," Matt murmured, breath hot against your ear.

"Maybe I want to get burned," you replied, taking his lip between your teeth with a teasing tug. His heart pounded harder against his chest, matching the rhythm of yours. God, he had wanted this for so long. And you knew it.

All he could do was groan in response, his body trembling under your touch when your hand began to rotate up and down. His body reacted to every touch, every moan and sigh serving as a testament to the need that built inside him.

You quickened your pace, twisting your wrist with every tug of his cock, reeling at the way his body bucked beneath yours. His fingers were digging into the small of your back as he fought for control.

But you wanted more — more of his sounds, more of his touch, more of him.

Matt tugged at your clothes in a silent plea as you took your fingers into your mouth, lubricating them before pumping him once again.

“Can I touch you?” He whispered through staggered breaths, his lips parted in a desperate pant as his hips rocked into your hand.

“Please,” you responded, shifting your body to lay flat beside him.

Matt watched with hooded eyes as he slipped his fingers between the waistband of your shorts, tugging at the thin fabric that held your desire.

His touch was surprisingly tender as he dipped his hand further, his large hand covering your entire arousal while his thumb brushed over the spot you needed most. An involuntary moan slipped through your lips, making him smile against your neck where he began placing soft but searing kisses.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against your skin, voice rough with need.

You let out a gasping chuckle at his compliment, a string of whispered words tumbling from your lips, "I could say the same about you." His fingers tightened their grip, a sigh of appreciation escaping him.

Running your thumb across the tip, you smeared his precum along his skin, causing his hips to buck up again.

“Fuck,” he moaned as softly as he could, before sinking his fingers into your core, claiming you as his own with each curl of his knuckles.

A gasp escaped you as you pumped his body faster, allowing him to pleasure you, as you pleasured him.

“Matt,” you breathed out, fingers gripping his shirt for stability when he hit just the right spot.

He pressed harder against you, fingers moving in tantalizing circles that had you writhing beneath him. His name was choked out again and again as he brought you closer to the edge.

Everything was so intense, from his body against yours to the way he was working you with his hand. You could feel your climax building up inside of you and by the way his body tensed against yours; he was close too.

“Faster,” you gasped, pulling him closer with your free hand. His response was immediate, his fingers following your command while his other hand roamed up to cup your chest. The moan that escaped his lips was enough to tell you that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

Your movements became more erratic, your grip on his erection tightening as you felt your climax building. Matt’s fingers kept moving at a relentless pace, pushing and pulling, sending shockwaves of lust coursing through your body.

His eyes were locked onto yours, watching every change in your expression as he brought you to the edge.

With one last thrust of his fingers and a firm stroke from your hand, you both fell over the edge, cries of pleasure filling the small confines of the bunk. Warm ropes of his cum spilled onto his chest and your hand as he shook beneath you, your legs vibrating from his fingers.

He slipped out of you, causing a whimper to escape your lips, which he caught with his mouth. You combed your fingers through his hair with your free hand, pulling him closer with each breath.

“Holy… shit…” He murmured against your skin, his husky voice filled with awe and satisfaction. You smiled softly, burying your face into his neck as you wrapped your arm around his waist. His heart pounded beneath your ear, matching the frantic beat of your own.

“It’s two in the goddamn morning,” You heard a bitter groan from across the bus.

You both froze, a moment that felt like an eternity, your hearts pounding in sync as your shared body heat radiated onto the threadbare sheets.

"Fuck off, Noah," Matt's voice was muffled against your hair, his designated place of refuge, “and go back to sleep.”

Noah was fuming from his bunk. He knew this was what he signed up for when he agreed to take part in the bet- but what if it was more than that?

How could he feel so angry at the thought of Matt making you cum, just as he did that afternoon?

Noah's frustration took shape in the form of a pillow being hurled in the direction of Matt's bunk, followed by a string of muttered curses that were swallowed by the hum of the bus engine. Noah rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to push away the images that had been imprinted onto his mind.

He tossed and turned on the thin mattress, huffing out a sigh. His mind went back to the look in your eyes when it was his fingers that had you writhing, your soft gasps echoing in his ears throughout the theatre.

And now, with the sounds of Matt’s husky voice whispering praises into your skin still lingering in the air, Noah felt betrayed.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bunk, Noah ran a hand through his messy hair as a surge of jealousy washed through him. His blood boiled as frustration clawed at him.

He decided, then and there, that he wouldn't let anyone win this bet easily.

If it was even a bet anymore.

He glanced over at Jolly's bunk then, an idea forming in his mind. Jolly had always been one who loved chaos- and Noah knew that this was just the kind of chaos Jolly would love to be a part of.

The brunette slipped out from his bunk and made his way over to where Jolly was sleeping, the snores from Ruffilo's and Folio's bunks providing a faint symphony of noise.

He shook Jolly awake, who mumbled a disgruntled curse before cracking an eye open. With a finger to his lips to keep him quiet, the guitarist slowly got up while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Noah told him about his idea and Jolly listened, the spark in his eyes growing brighter with every word. A grin spread on his face as he realized what Noah was proposing.

It was risky, but the thrill that came with it was irresistible.

"I'm in," He whispered back, his voice barely audible over the muffled hum of the bus engine, "I'll get the boys on board too."

+++++

The bus arrived at the venue around 9 am, giving everyone an early start to the day. The first show back after the much-needed break was tonight, and tensions were high as you walked into the living room of the bus.

The first thing you noticed was the asymmetrical line of grins painted on their faces – Jolly, Ruffilo and Folio sat huddled in a corner of the bus, whispering in hushed tones. Noah lounged across from them, eyes glinting with an unspoken challenge as he raked his fingers through his hair.

Something was off, but you couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was.

“Morning,” you greeted everyone casually, trying to ignore their behaviour. Each of them glanced at you, and their grins only widened as they chorused back a “Good morning” that sounded far too innocent to believe.

With a yawn you shook your head, sitting on the couch and eyes trailed to the singer sitting across from you, nervously darting away when you caught his stare.

“How’d you sleep?”

The accusative tone lingering behind his words made your breath hitch in your throat, face flushing slightly.

“Good,” You mustered as Noah watched you vehemently, raising what appeared to be an annoyed brow. He licked his lips to cover the scoff that left his mouth.

“Sounded good,” He muttered, and you blinked rapidly in response, turning your head to the side as your cheeks warmed.

The bus door opened with a click, and everyone turned to watch Matt appear, two steaming cups of coffee between his hands. His face lit up at the sight of you, eyes soft with an affectionate smile spread across his lips.

“I thought you might want one of these,” he said, walking over and handing you a cup. The rich aroma of the dark liquid made you hum in appreciation; especially because the drink was now a distraction from the eyes of the accusatory brunette.

You took the warm cup in your hands, your lips curving into a contented smile as you thanked him.

Each boy stared with curious eyes, and Jolly watched Noah’s face scrunch in distaste as Matt sat down beside you, his hand instinctively finding your thigh. His touch made sparks dance under your skin, reminding you of the fire that had consumed you hours prior.

Tension hung thick in the air as Noah couldn't help but watch the display of affection between the two of you. His eyes followed Matt's hand as it brushed against yours, his jaw clenching at the obvious intimacy being shared. He could almost see the invisible threads of affection weaving around you, tightening with every whispered word and shared glance; and it made him sick.

With his heart twisting in his chest, a bitter taste grew in his mouth. Part of him had hoped that he would’ve won you over; that his cock pounding into you would’ve convinced you to stay with him.

However, you remained ignorant to Noah’s glare as he pondered, but also Folio’s.

The drummer’s mind had replayed the scene at the aquarium over and over, the feeling of your soft lips against his, and the taste of your body sharp against his tongue. Your laugh echoed in his memory, the smile on your face radiant as you two ran between the fish tanks together.

Now as he saw you entangled in Matt’s arm, he could feel a familiar pang of regret searing through him.

Unlike Noah, he was willing to admit he wanted it to be more than a game.

Ruffilo had also been watching as you and Matt moved together with undeniable synchronicity. His heart thudded in his chest as he saw Matt’s lips draw close to your ear, a secret shared only between the two of you.

This sight had him clenching his fists tighter as he forced himself to focus on the instructions that left the blonde’s mouth.

“Alright everyone,” Matt began, standing up from next to you, “We have a show to prepare for.” His voice was firm and commanding, bringing a sense of normality back to the bus.

This was enough to break the unspoken pressure in the air for a moment, and with a huffed sigh the group scattered, each one talking about different aspects of the show.

“Me and Y/N will start moving the soundboard and equipment into the venue. Meet in the greenroom around 11?” Matt said, manager mode turning on full force.

You nodded, tossing your empty cup into the garbage as you slipped on your shoes and a sweater.

Folio and Ruffilo also nodded, glancing at you briefly as you tugged the fabric over your head, watching you adjust your hair.

God, they thought you were stunning.

Noah found himself standing next to Jolly, who was grinning at him like a Cheshire cat while you and Matt left the bus.

“You think you're ready to shake things up?” Jolly’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it was enough to pull Noah’s attention away from Matt your body as you walked away.

+++++

The rest of the day blurred with rehearsals and sound checks, nerves frayed and tensions high as everyone prepared for the performance. Yet amidst the chaos, Noah remained strangely calm – despite his mind being preoccupied with thoughts of tonight.

The concert started without a hitch, and the crowd roared with excitement as they kicked off with artificial suicide. You stood backstage, watching your boys with admiration as you stood in front of your laptop, sliding through the mix and keeping your earpiece tight against your ear.

Eventually, Matt began signalling intermission, and the boys ran off stage as the lights dimmed and the crowd’s screams echoed between the walls.

“Great job out there, everyone!” Matt was leaning by the curtain, a broad grin plastered on his face as he clapped Jolly and Folio on their sweat-soaked backs. Noah gave him a nod of acknowledgement, barely pausing in his stride as he went to pick up his water bottle from the side of the stage.

The singer’s gaze was distant as he drank from the bottle, and you watched curiously, brows furrowing with worry. Usually, he was more energetic; but something appeared to be eating at him.

Walking over to Noah, you gently tugged at his arm.

“How are you holding up?” you asked, looking up into his strained face. He reached out, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly- fingers burning your skin when he pulled away.

Jolly watched the scene from a distance, his lips pursing anxiously. Noah's eyes flickered to him for a split second, and he saw confirmation in Jolly’s subtle nod.

Taking a deep breath, Noah passed you a curt smile, “Just need some air.”

His gaze lingered on your face for a moment longer before he turned to head for the stage door, “Coming?”

"Sure," you said, following him out the door and into the quiet alleyway behind the venue.

The cool night air was a welcome respite from the stuffiness of the indoor venue, and you found yourself taking in large gulps as if trying to replenish your oxygen supply.

You suddenly felt nervous as he towered above you, chugging water as he stared at the brick wall ahead.

“Do you think you could handle all of us?” Noah asked after a moment of silence.

His words hung in the air, swirling with the surrounding breeze.

"What do you mean?" you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral but curious. Your eyes studied him, searching for any hints in his expression.

Noah turned towards you, his face illuminated by the dim streetlight reflecting off the wet pavement. His multi-faceted eyes bore into yours with a boldness that made you feel like he was peeling back layers of your thoughts and feelings.

"I mean," he began, taking an agonizing step closer to you.

Swallowing, you peered up at him as his hair fell over his eyes, looming over your body.

The proximity made your heart flutter in your chest as he spoke again.

"All five of us?" Noah's voice was barely a whisper now, a low rumble that sent vibrations coursing through your veins, “All at once.”

The pounding of your heart danced against your rib cage, palms turning sweaty as you tried to comprehend what Noah was insinuating. Your eyes flickered up to meet his in confusion.

“In what way?” you managed to get out, breath stuttering with each exhale.

“Want to find out?” he said simply, taking a hand and tucking a piece of hair behind your burning ears.

Before you could process his words further, or come up with a response, Noah's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, expression hardening.

"Showtime," he muttered, tucking the phone back into his pocket, “But when we’re done, I want you to go to the hotel down the street.”

You raised a brow, watching him.

“There’s a room booked under my name,” he continued, unfazed, "Room 407."

Noah’s heart hammered as he bit back a smile. His own body vibrated with nerves as you blinked at him, dumbfounded.

He then turned on his heel, heading back towards the venue.

"Noah, what in the world are you talking about?" You shouted after him, but he just waved over his shoulder as he disappeared back into the buzz and warmth of the concert hall, taking your unanswered questions with him.

Once the concert was over and the crowds began to trickle out, you packed your equipment and headed toward the venue exit. Usually, you’d be met by Matt and the crew to begin cleanup; but none of them were in sight.

With a confused brow, you searched down the halls and to the green room, but again, there was no sign of the boys.

Your mind raced back to Noah’s request and decided to head towards the hotel down the street. The night air had gotten colder, and you felt a stir of anticipation warming you from within.

As you approached the quiet building, you couldn't help but question your decision. Every rational part of you screamed to turn around and forget about Noah's peculiar request. Yet, something inexplicable urged you on. You found yourself standing in front of room 407, body warm and throat tightening.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the card the front desk gave you through the reader, and the tiny light turned green with a click. Pushing open the door, you were met with a dimly lit hotel room that was both quiet yet writhing with energy.

A small gasp left your lips once you noticed the figure looming in the corner; yet as fast as your heart was racing, his was racing ten times faster.

Sitting in a chair across the room sat the silhouette of a Noah, framed by the faint moonlight trickling in from the window behind him. A black ski mask covered his face, adorned with the sigils you were all too familiar with.

“Noah?” You whispered, almost taken aback at the ominous stature as he sat there, fingers lingering on his thighs.

“Not just Noah,” a voice replied from the corner to your left, and you snapped your head to the side, recognizing Matt’s voice.

The blonde emerged from the shadows, also wearing an identical ski mask.

With the closing of the hotel door, you dropped your bag to the floor, nervously crossing your arms below your chest. Before you could ask another question, more figures appeared from beside you.

Folio, Ruffilo, and Jolly each took their places in different parts of the room, all embellished with the same masks. A chill ran down your spine as you glanced at each one of them in turn, their identities concealed yet so obvious.

"No one else makes us feel the way you do," Noah started, his voice rough behind the fabric. He then stood up from the chair, approaching you slowly, each step agonizingly taunting.

All you could do was stand frozen in place, staring up at him while his onyx eyes bore into your own. A small smile twitched on his lips as he reached for your waist, pulling you toward him.

“We made a new bet.”

"New bet?" you echoed, the word a ghost in your throat. The drum of your heart began to ache once Noah didn't answer. Instead, he slid his hand up your back, resting it at the base of your neck while his thumb gently traced patterns on your skin. It was both soothing and terrifying.

Noah leaned closer until his breath fanned against your ear, his warm breath causing your skin to tingle, "We want you," he whispered, voice low but clear.

"All of us."

Drawing in a sharp breath, the confession rang between your ears. The room was silent save for the occasional rustling of clothes or an uneven breath from the boys around you. They were all watching, waiting for your reaction.

Folio stepped forward, sliding past Noah to stand behind you, allowing his own hands to reach for your hips as he pressed against your back.

"The bet is simple," you heard Folio smile, his tone nonchalant as if he wasn't discussing something that had the potential to change everything.

"First to make you back out, wins.”

Noah's hands tightened around the back of your neck as Folio's fingers dug into your hips. Glancing at the other three, all masked figures had an eerie calm to their stances.

"Back out of what?" you whispered as Folio's grip on your waist tightened.

"Us," Matt answered from somewhere to your right, voice surprisingly soft amidst the thick tension brewing in the room.

"No one has ever made us rival against each other," Jolly added, his voice muffled by his mask as he leaned against the distant wall. "We want to see if we could... Well…"

The swede trailed off, and you glanced at him as he smiled, turning to look at Ruffilo.

"Share you," the bassist finished for him, his usual jovial tone replaced with something far more sultry.

Your limbs heated at the implication of their words, abdomen clenching with each promise. Now looking up at the brunette infront of you, the small smile tugging at his lips was devilish and daring.

“Then what do you win?” You asked slowly.

Noah leaned forward, whispering into your ear again, “The right to have you all to themselves for one last night.”

"Noah…" you began, voice trembling. Nerves rushed through you, but somewhere deep inside, you also felt a strange tingle of anticipation as his inked hands roamed across your shoulders.

He silenced you with a thumb on your lips, eyes gleaming darkly under his mask, "That's if they can make you back out," he clarified, not moving away from you.

You took in a shaky breath, the room suddenly too hot even though there were goosebumps on your arms.

"And if I don't back out?" Your voice was barely audible, even to your own ears.

Noah's eyes twinkled in the dim light, and there was a small smirk playing on his lips as he responded, "Then we all win.”

Ruffilo’s earnest eyes flicked between you and the floor, while Matt’s excited smirk was hidden behind his mask. Jolly's stance was curious and daring against the wall, and Folio's possessive grip anchored you to his chest. Noah's gaze was confident and challenging as you licked your dry lips, feeling every single racing beat of your heart rumble in your throat.

"What if I say no?" You asked, a hint of uncertainty evident in your tone, “What if I don’t want to be part of your silly little game anymore?”

"Then you walk out that door, and we pretend this never happened," Noah replied after a moment of silence, his voice surprisingly calm, “We pretend that there was no bet five nights ago. We go back to normal and move on.”

He released his grip on your neck, taking a step back to give you the space you needed.

With a racing mind, you couldn’t help but relish in how each of them made you feel just nights prior.

There would be no going back regardless of what was about to happen- you were theirs.

Each of the boys watched you with quiet anticipation, their hidden faces betraying nothing as their eyes revealed everything.

Fear swirled in your stomach and hitched your breath. But stronger than fear was curiosity, tinged with a strange thrill you couldn't deny.

You turned to look at Noah again, his figure looming dominantly in the dim light.

"Alright," You uttered softly, “bet.”

For a moment, time itself stilled to savor the gravity of your words.

There was no going back.

Noah let out a low chuckle, his eyes closing briefly as he relished the word that sealed your agreement.

"Game on," he drawled, a slow smile spreading across his lips again. His gaze held yours captive, dancing with triumph and anticipation.

"Let's see how long you can last, hmm?" His voice carried a predatory tone as he reached out to gently stroke your cheek, thumb painting circles against your skin.

"Remember," he continued to whisper, his words a soothing melody designed to lull you into a false sense of security, "it can just be a game to you… unless you want it to be something else."

A game with stakes too high for comfort. A game with feelings.

Yet, you found yourself nodding, acknowledging his statement even as your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

Folio's hands tightened on your hips once more, pulling you back against him once Noah nodded.

The drummer’s breath was warm against the back of your neck and he dipped his head down, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he murmured his approval, "Such a brave girl."

Noah took a step back to sit in the chair again; ready to watch everything unfold before him.

"So it begins," Matt chimed in, pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against. His eyes roved over you with a sense of newfound curiosity; his fingers twitching as if aching to reach out and touch you. However, he restrained himself, not wanting to appear too eager yet.

Folio spun you around to face him, holding you close against his chest as he chewed back a smile.

“Kiss me,” He whispered, the plea making your legs fall weak.

With a brief nod you leaned into his touch, placing your lips on his in a delicate manner.

Feeling the texture of his lips on yours was like tasting sweet honey, the first brush a featherlight touch. Folio's arms tightened around you and he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss with every exhale. The heat that swelled through your body at his touch made your heart pound harder inside your chest, and your fingers curled themselves into the fabric of his shirt.

Soft sighs filled the room as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Feeling his chuckle vibrate against your lips as you held onto him made you smile; and once his hand inched up your back, stopping just below the curve of your neck to pull you in even closer, you were hooked.

Reaching up you pulled at the fabric of his mask, pushing it just above his lips; before another hand gripped your lower back from behind.

Jolly turned you around as he replaced Folio, and with a wicked smirk he drew you close into his embrace.

“Eager there, are we?”

You watched Nick step back as Jolly tucked your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

"My turn," he murmured against your lips before capturing them hungrily, drinking in the taste of your surprise.

As he drew back, he kept his gaze locked onto yours, fingers continuing to trace idle patterns on your waist.

Matt moved into your line of sight then, a wild look in his eyes as they burned fiercely. He didn't say anything as he reached out to gently tilt your chin upwards. His kiss was softer than Jolly's had been; gentle, almost reverent. It was a contrast to the desperation he showed you the night prior; but it left your body pooling with each swipe of his tongue.

Ruffilo then shifted closer, his fingers twining with yours as he now held you, claiming you as his for the sweet moment of time he was granted with you.

His eyes held an undeniable warmth that flickered with desire and curiosity. Lips were on yours before you could breathe in another shaky breath of anticipation, and he tasted like a promise you weren't sure you could keep, yet yearned for with a deep burning desire. Ruffilo was different from the others; he embraced the intimacy of your shared moment, and in return, elicited a response from you that held more passion than any of the previous kisses.

“Remember that you can always say no tonight,” he whispered against your neck, his teeth grazing teasingly down your skin, “Just say you’re done done, and we forget about everything. That doesn’t mean we win or lose.”

You smiled at his reassurance, allowing your fingers to run up his back toward the base of the mask, tugging at the fabric as you kissed him again.

He hummed as you held him before he leaned his forehead against yours; grey eyes shining with infatuation.

"May I?" He asked, his voice a soft murmur as he pulled you toward the bed by the loop of your jeans. His words were a tender whisper, a question caught in the suspended moment between one breath and the next.

A small nod was your consent, and his lips met yours with an agonizing slowness that made your knees buckle. You allowed him to pull you along, until he sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at you.

"If I win," he began, his voice thick and heavy with emotion, "my prize will be seeing that look in your eyes every time I kiss you.”

You reached down, tempted to pull the fabric from his face to reveal everything he had been wanting to hide- every confession, every affection.

“What if you lose?” You whispered.

Nicholas ran his hands down your arms to squeeze your hands, "Then I get the pleasure of knowing I was part of something that made your heart race and your mind spin," he replied, "Either way, it's a win-win situation for me."

Just as Ruffilo's words settled in your mind, you turned towards the chair where Noah now stood up.

"Didn’t forgot about me princess, did you?"

As he came closer, you admired his tall figure, his smile titilating.

You turned back towards Ruffilo for reassurance, only for him to gently guide you towards Noah. Although every fibre of your being was pulsating with tension, you decided to trust them.

"In the spirit of fairness," Noah began, mirroring Ruffilo's earlier gesture and tilting your chin upwards so that you were looking directly into his eyes, "I think I deserve a kiss too."

With a light nod from you and a teasing smirk from him, his lips found yours. As he kissed you passionately, it was like a dance; his movements precise, his touch intentional. His thumb ran against your jawline as he pulled away slightly, only to claim your lips again with a renewed fervour.

His kiss was a promise, an agreement between two secret conspirators, filled with unspoken words and tender sentiment.

His mouth lingered on yours for a long moment, relishing in the taste of having you all to himself for one last time, before a soft sigh escaped him once he finally pulled away.

Noah then nodded at Ruffilo, who pulled you by the waist of your jeans again until you fell onto his body, lying on top of him above the cotton sheets of the hotel room bed.

Hoisting you up to straddle his waist, you could feel Nicholas’ arousal grow beneath the fabric of his slacks as he pulled you down into a kiss once again.

His hands roved over you, heat radiating from every point of contact. His fingers traced the dip of your waist, skittered up your ribs and rested just beneath the swell of your chest.

You gasped into his mouth, a spark roaming through your abdomen at the intimate contact; but also because you knew each of the boys was watching behind you.

Ruffilo chuckled softly against your mouth before pushing up onto his elbows, flipping you onto your back before settling between the vee of your thighs. The position was intimate, his body caging yours as he leaned down to capture your mouth in another slow, intoxicating kiss. His arousal pressed into your thigh and you couldn't help but press back, a small moan erupting from your lips as friction roared through you.

"You're killing me," He muttered against your lips, before sliding down to kneel beside the bed, pushing your knees apart gently.

Matt moved to stand beside the bed, watching at Ruffilo waited for your knod of approval to unbotton your jeans.

The blonde sat beside you on the bed, hovering over your face to run his fingers along your scalp as Nicholas pulled your jeans down each leg in agonizing slowness.

"This isn't just about us having our turns," Matt murmured, "It's about you too."

Heat pooled within your abdomen as you lay exposed, the thin fabric of your underwear inches from Ruffilo’s mouth.

With an affirmative nod, you found yourself surrendering to their fleeting touches and simmering gazes. Nicholas’s fingers rested tentatively at your hips before his warm hands moved to hook around the waistband of your underwear, thumbs dipping lower to send a jolt of heat crackling through you.

"May I?" He murmured once again, the same question carrying an entirely different weight now.

Your grip on Matt's hand tightened as you nodded, heart pounding in your chest like a wild drum as Nicholas removed the last piece of clothing that separated you from him.

Your breath hitched as he kissed up each leg, a soft gasp escaping from your lips when he ran his tongue over the inside of your thigh. With a whimper and a plea, your back arched off of the bed to prompt him further, and his inked fingers finally slid between the folds of your desire.

“Fuck you’re soaking,” His breathy laugh of complete disbelief made you laugh breathlessly, a sound so hoarse as you rolled your hips into his hand, desperate for more.

As soon at his tongue swiped along your core you moaned, your mouth immedietly swallowed by Matt’s.

It was an odd but intoxicating dance of bodies, hands, mouths and excruciatingly slow movements. Your mind had shut down, and only your senses remained; the feel of Matt’s mouth on yours, Ruffilo’s tongue against your heated core, and the scent of their combined arousal filling the room.

“God,” You whimpered as one of Ruffilo's fingers slipped inside you while he continued to work over your folds with his mouth. Matt’s fingers were buried in your hair, holding onto you as he drank in your cries with each flick of Ruffilo’s tongue.

Nicholas switched to his hand, alternating between stroking and pumping into you exactly how you needed. His other hand went up to clasp onto one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. The tension pooled in the pit of your stomach, growing stronger every passing second.

He pulled off of you, standing up while licking his lips greedily as he pulled the mask of his face, tossing it to the floor. You watched with furrowed brows, gasping for air as he smiled down at you, face flushed as his chest heaved.

Staring at him in awe you had no time to transition as Matt then slid down your body, kissing down your chest as he lifted your shirt, replacing Ruffilo between your legs.

"Delicious," Matt murmured against your lower lips once he swiped his tongue into your desire, the vibration eliciting another low moan from your throat. Allowing your hands to reach down you clawed the mask from his face, exposing him as he devoured your body with his mouth.

Jolly now crawled onto the bed, kissing your forehead as he spoke.

"How does it feel pretty girl?"

You could barely think straight, let alone form a coherent answer. All you could manage was a breathless, "Incredible."

"Good," the guitarist murmured, his fingers threading through your hair as he pressed delicate kisses along the column of your throat.

Jolly's other hand found its way to your breasts, cupping one through the thin fabric of your shirt. You squirmed beneath Matt's expert ministrations, Jolly's actions adding fuel to the fire that had been building within you since their sinful game had started.

Tugging at your shirt Jolly got a nod of consent before pulling your shirt off your body, leaving you barely dressed as Matt ate you out in front of them.

Jolly leaned down, his mouth inches away from your ear and whispered words that set your heart racing even faster, "You're so beautiful like this," he husked out, licking down your neck before sucking above your collarbone.

Meanwhile, Matt's tongue never ceased its exploration, lapping at your heat with a piety that left you breathless. He was relentless as he coaxed you towards that peak of pleasure that was just within reach, each stroke of his tongue a promise of pure ecstasy.

“My turn,” Noah murmured above Matt, watching as you squirmed against his mouth, moments away from letting go.

Jolly kissed between your chest as Folio made his way to your other side, taking your lips. Noah began worshiping your desire, his mouth skillful and familiar against your body.

Your legs twitched and jolted as Noah's tongue delved deeper, teasing and tasting with an insatiable hunger. His hands now held your hips in place, refusing to allow you any reprieve from the torturous pleasure he offered.

He played you masterfully, fingers dancing over your sensitive bud while his tongue delved deep inside. The heat in your core coiled tighter and tighter with every pass of Noah's tongue, with every teasing touch of his hand.

The low moan that escaped your lips was quickly swallowed by Folio's own mouth descending onto yours, drinking in your cries as if they were the sweetest wine.

Pulling away from Folio’s lips you sat up, allowing a hand to grip Noah’s mask and hold him against your arousal, rutting your hips into his face.

Noah’s chuckle of satisfaction vibrated against your body and with the final push of his fingers sinking into your core, you let your orgasm take over.

Your body seized with the magnitude of your release, waves of pleasure crashing over you, swallowing you whole.

And as the room spun as ecstasy gripped you, your fingers trembled gainst the fabric that covered Noah’s features while his movements stilled, lapping up in the sweet taste of your completion.

Your groans were loud and unabashed, echoing through the room in a testament to their skill.

Noah pulled away, face slick and eyes shining bright with satisfaction at your condition — sprawled out and panting heavily. He climbed back up your body, hovering above you before leisurely kissing your throat, just above where Jolly marked you.

"Damn," Ruffilo voiced from behind the group, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched Matt stand in front of you, tossing his shirt to the floor.

You were breathless as Jolly held your back off the bed, allowing Folio to unclasp your bra and expose your chest.

“You ready?” Matt smiled, tugging his pants down his waist as he brushed past Noah, pushing your knees back into your chest.

With a nod of approval, Matt ran his hand along the path Noah had traced earlier, before settling between your thighs, slipping a condom onto his cock.

Your body felt hypersensitive after the explosion of pleasure moments prior, but when Matt pushed into your body, it felt like starting anew.

"Oh god," you whimpered, feeling him fill you up perfectly as Folio kissed your forehead from above again.

He held himself still a few moments, allowing you to adjust to his size. His hands roamed your curves, fingers ghosting over your sensitive breasts, causing you to squirm and whine in pleasure.

"Easy," Matt whispered, his voice was laced with restrained desire. He slowly began to move inside you, each gentle thrust stealing your breath away.

The sensation of him moving inside you was indescribable; a blend of pain and pleasure that had you arching your back and gasping for more. His pace picked up gradually, matching the rhythm of your own desperate movements.

Jolly held onto your hand as Matt moved deeper into your pussy, taking control of your body. His eyes were filled with an intensity that reflected his own need and despite the vulnerable position you were in, it made you feel cherished, loved.

Meanwhile, Folio has pulled his mask off, lips dragging along your jawline, making their way down your neck and collarbone. Every spot he touched bloomed into an intimate longing that heightened your sensitivity to the ongoing pleasure.

His kisses were gentle, torturously slow; they contrasted starkly with the hard, steady thrusts of Matt's body that pounded into yours.

Ruffilo watched from a safe distance, his eyes dark with hunger as they roamed over your writhing body. It was erotic and raw; seeing Matt claim you in such a way, seeing the primal satisfaction in his eyes, his movements driven by pure lust and carnal need. Nicholas’ pants felt tight as he palmed his arousal between the fabric, aching in urgency for his own release.

Matt groaned above you; his movements becoming more fervent as he drove into you, every thrust bringing him closer to his release. You arched against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, your eyes locked onto his as waves of need crashed through you both.

Noah hovered beside Matt, eyes boring into yours from behind the mask as he leaned down to run his fingers delicately up your side, tracing the curve of your waist and hip as he watched Matt consuming you.

"You look so good underneath him," Noah whispered, before allowing his thumb to caress your clit with fervor.

"Noah," you gasped out, the sudden touch sending another crest of gratification through your overly sensitive body.

He chuckled, leaning between Jolly and Folio to press a kiss to your temple, before continuing his torturous ministrations. All the while, Matt kept up his relentless pace, groaning and grunting as he worked himself towards his climax.

Ruffilo stood beside the bed, his hand now dipping between his waistband as he allowed his cock to spring free from the restraint of his jeans. Your mouth hung open with lust as he wrapped his hand around his erection, pleasuring himself to the sight of you coming undone beneath Matt.

The room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and moans, of skin hitting against skin in a perfectly timed rhythm; until Matt stilled, fingers digging into your hips as he cried out your name in prayer.

“Fuck,” He groaned, face contorting as he pulled out, the condom filled with his release.

"You did so well," Jolly murmured, kissing your shoulder as Matt collapsed beside you on the bed, panting heavily. You smiled then, admiring the flush of his ears as he heaved in satisfaction as your body jolted from Noah’s continuing touch.

The blondes gaze softened at the sight of you—drenched in sweat, hair splayed out on the bed sheets, and lips swollen from kisses. His hand reached out to brush stray strands of hair from your face, his movements gentle, contrasting sharply with the roughness from before.

"Don't think we’re done yet love," Ruffilo said, his words an assurance of more.

Folio now ripped open a condom, crawling onto the bed as he pulled you into the middle, flipping you onto your stomach.

"Now, it's my turn," he said, voice husky with desire.

Feeling the coolness of the sheets against your heated skin was a relief. You felt Matt gently roll off to the side, his fingers lazily trailing along your spine as Folio positioned himself behind you.

His fingers traced the curve of your backside before pulling your hips upward. The tip of his cock teased your entrance, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Taking hold of your back, he pushed into you slowly, his groans filling the room as he sank deeper.

Behind you, Jolly softly massaged your shoulders, his fingers kneading your tense muscles. His touch was soothing, easing some of the intensity from Folio’s thrusts. On the other side, Noah knelt beside you, his gaze never leaving where Nick and you were joined.

“Fuck,” Folio moaned, spreading your legs apart as you pressed your face into the pillow, a string of cries pushing into the soft fabric.

“You like that Y/N?” Noah whispered from your side. Turning your head you gazed as his lidded eyes flicked between his best friend’s thrusts and your love drunk smile.

“Yes,” you cried, causing Noah to smirk.

"Ah, she likes it," Noah murmured to Folio, words thick with amusement.

Nick responded with a low growl, lost deep in his own pleasure as he drove into your welcoming heat. His hands roamed over your waist and ass, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. His pace quickened, the rhythm becoming wild and unrestrained

"You're going to come again for us, love," Jolly promised, his voice filled with the same intoxicating desire that had been present throughout the night.

Your world spun as the swedes fingers slipped in between your legs between your body and the mattress, finding your swollen clit amidst the sea of pleasure that Folio was causing. Your gasps were swallowed by the pillow as the pleasure built up within you once more.

Folio’s thrusts increased in pace, each one harder and more desperate than the last. His grip on your ass tightened as he drove deeper into you, his cock hitting all the right spots that had you reeling in pleasure.

Another orgasm began rolling in, and once you succumbed, your body shuddered under the onslaught of satisfaction.

Overwhelmed by sensation, Nick groaned behind you, his thrusts slowing as he allowed his climax to consume him, shuddering against your skin.

He collapsed on top of you, heavy breaths fanning against your skin as he struggled to regain his composure. Your body was warm and pliant under him and for a moment, he simply savored the feeling of you pulsating around him.

"That was... fuck," Folio breathed out, pulling out of you carefully.

You exhaled heavily, your limbs raving with disbelief as you sat up, smiling over at Jolly who now ripped off his mask, taking his hand to tug your neck toward him. Planting a gentle kiss on your lips you moaned, relishing in the feeling of his fingers squeezing your neck gently.

"Noah?" You then turned once Jolly pulled away, reaching out for the silent figure still kneeling at the side of the bed.

He glanced up from where his hands had been idly twisting a loose thread on the bedsheets. His eyes were dark and hooded, his jaw clenched as if in thought.

It was the first time you had seen him so quiet, so reflective. He met your gaze, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he crawled over to you.

"I'm here," he murmured, his fingers brushing gently over the back of your hand.

You felt your heart swell at the look in his chocolate eyes; it was soft and filled with an emotion you couldn't quite name.

Reaching out with your other hand, you cupped Noah's cheek, pulling him down for a gentle kiss. His lips were warm against yours, the taste of him faint but unmistakable. He responded slowly, letting you control the pace of the kiss. You swapped between him and Jolly for a moment, allowing them to share you briefly before Jolly smiled.

“You’re not done yet, are you princess?”

Shaking you head you smiled up at the swede, allowing him to undress himself before lying on his back, motioning for you to crawl on top of him.

With a faint smirk, you complied, shifting your weight to straddle Jolly's hips. His hands steadied you as you positioned yourself over his erection, the anticipation of his cock making you tremble.

Once you gave him a nod of approval, he started to thrust up into you. His movements were slow and controlled at first but soon picked up the pace. His hands gripped onto your hips, pulling you down harder onto him while Noah continued to watch on the side lines.

Your grip on Jolly tightened, your fingers digging into his chest every time he drove into you. Your sounds of pleasure filled the room, mixing with Jolly's low grunts and Noah's breathy moans as he palmed himself, eyes never leaving the sight of you being taken with such fervor.

Jolly's thumb flicked over your clit, causing a gasp to escape your lips as you locked eyes with him. His gaze held yours for a moment before he stole another deep thrust into you, pulling a sinfully delicious cry from your parted lips.

As your gasps for breath increased, you could feel Noah's gaze on you. It burned into your skin, hotter than any touch, and his silence was unnerving- but you didn't dare to look at him.

Meanwhile, Ruffilo began to trace patterns along your arm, his touch barely there but sending shivers up your spine nonetheless. The intensity of Jolly’s thrusts increased, causing you to cry out as another wave of pleasure washed over you.

"Fuck," Jolly breathed out as he bucked up one last time, holding you down tightly against him as he found release. He leaned forward to take a breast into his mouth, hand holding the back of your neck softly, heartbeat thundering in your ear.

You couldn’t help but smile, sitting up as he softened inside you, before turning to smile at Folio and Matt, who sat watching eagerly, despite their release.

Both boys were erect again, holding their cocks tightly through the show of you being passed between them.

Turning, you watched as Ruffilo stood beside the bed, holding his desire out for you. His hand reached for your chin as he smiled down at you, lidded eyes awaiting for your lips to wrap around him. Jolly’s hands gripped your hips, kneading the skin in encouragement as you sunk your mouth onto Nicholas.

The sensation was an intoxicating mix of control and submission, and you reveled in the power of your position. You held Ruffilo’s gaze as you took him in deeper, your tongue swirling around his length. His approval was palpable in the sharp intake of breath and small hitches of pleasure that sounded from him.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his praise causing a jolt of pleasure to course through you that had nothing to do with physical touch.

Noah now kneeled on your other side, his hand guiding your chin off of Nick and onto him. You smiled as you pulled off of the drummer, allowing the string of saliva to transfer onto Noah’s cock once you wrapped your lips around him, relishing in the two of them sharing you.

Jolly squirmed beneath you, chuckling at the sight as he held your body against his hips, allowing his fingers to circle your core.

The room was filled with the sounds of harsh breathing and the occasional moan, adding to the sinful atmosphere. Ruffilo watched as you took Noah in your mouth, his eyes never leaving the sight of your lips wrapped around him. His hand rested on your head, tangling in your hair as he guided you up and down his best friend.

Noah let out a low groan as he felt you take him in deeper, his fingers tightening on your shoulder. His hips moved subtly, pushing himself further into your mouth.

The sight of you taking him so eagerly, swallowing him down, had him teetering on the edge.

On the other side, Matt shifted closer to you, his gaze dropping to where Jolly still had his hands on your hips. He reached out, his fingers trailing over your backside before he dipped lower, testing the waters between your legs.

It was almost like he was asking for permission, a silent request that contrasted sharply with the assertive presence of Noah and Jolly.

A soft gasp escaped you as Matt's fingers slipped inside your arousal, his movements slow but insistent. The combination of his touch and Noah's throbbing length filling your mouth proved too much to handle. You whimpered around Noah, your body shuddering as you were pushed closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure once again.

Your hand stroked Ruffilo, the twist and glide of your wrist against his slick length leaving him twitching beneath your hand, holding your arm firmly in place.

"Fuck, just like that," Noah groaned, his hand reaching into your hair as he pushed you further down onto him. You gagged around him, but didn't pull away, the discomfort adding an unexpected edge to your pleasure.

Noah pulled the mask off now, revealing his face that was contorted in pure desire; and you stared up at him eagerly as he fucked your mouth.

Jolly continued to stroke your clit at a maddening pace, his thumb flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a precision that had your thighs trembling around him. You squirmed as he pressed against you, while Matt’s fingers twisted and turned inside your core.

"That's it," Jolly murmured as you stilled on top of him. Folio stood on the side, watching as he stroked himself to your pleasure.

Tears streamed down your face as you felt the adoration and desire from each of the members. Ruffilo's intense stare, your lips wrapped around Noah’s member, Folio's throbbing arousal in your hand, Matt's skilled fingers buried inside you, and Jolly's thumb teasing your sensitive spot. They were all in control, dominating you completely.

And yet, you couldn't help but feel like the most powerful person in the room. It was your pleasure they were all focused on, your body they worshipped so eagerly.

"God, can't hold it," Noah groaned out next to you. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, his cock twitching inside your mouth as he released, the roped of cum hitting the back of your throat. He held your head in place, forcing you to swallow down every last drop of him.

Pulling back once Noah had finished, you moved to Ruffilo, your hand wrapped around his length as your lips took him in. He gripped the headboard tightly as he felt your mouth envelop him, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, a soft gasp leaving his lips.

At the same time, Matt continued to play with you from behind, his fingers pumping in and out of you in rhythm with Jolly's thumb on your clit. The sensations had your stomach churning with pleasure, the need for release growing more and more urgent.

"Nicky, I... I'm gonna..." You couldn't finish your sentence, the overwhelming pleasure consuming all of your senses.

Ruffilo nodded, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head.

“let go, princess. Thats a good girl,” he groaned out, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his climax.

You whimpered around him as Matt and Jolly’s combined efforts pushed you over the edge. Your body shook around them for the final time, moans muffled by Ruffilo’s cock in your mouth- but they didn't need to hear it to know how hard you were coming.

At the sight of you losing control, Ruffilo clenched his jaw and pushed past the edge, spilling his load into your mouth with a loud groan. You swallowed him down gratefully, sucking gently on his length as he rode out his high, relishing in the taste of both your boys mixed within your saliva.

Once he was spent, Jolly gently lifted you off of him and Matt pulled his fingers out from inside you with a feather-light touch. You were set down on the bed, a sated smile gracing your lips as you took in the sight of each of them, basking in their own afterglow.

Ruffilo was the first to move, crossing the room to the attached bathroom. When he returned, he held a damp cloth in his hand and he approached you slowly, his eyes searching yours for permission. He started to clean you up with the utmost care, free hand grazing your cheek with complete adoration.

Meanwhile, Matt laid down next to you, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your exposed skin- his touch soothing after the intensity.

Jolly propped himself up on an elbow by your other side. His eyes never left you, watching with a soft expression. It was as if he was taking a moment to commit every detail to memory - your flushed face, your hazy eyes, the way you bit your lower lip as Ruffilo gently wiped you clean, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Noah and Folio joined the others, finding spaces on the bed that allowed each of them to touch some part of you with admiration.

It was a silent reassurance, the quiet promise that they were still there, still with you after everything.

Your heartbeat slowed in your chest as you held onto your boys, your breath slowing as your tired eyes fought to stay awake.

Jolly broke the silence, his voice was low and thick with emotion as he whispered, "You were incredible."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling back to look at you, and his words spurred the others into an affectionate overlay. Matt leaned in to press a lingering kiss against your cheek while Folio left feathery kisses up and down your arm. Noah reached out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he wanted to memorize the feel of your skin. Ruffilo, still holding the cloth, gently wiped a smudge of mascara from under your eye with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

Your eyes met each of theirs in turn, their faces glowing with satisfaction and awe.

And then, just when you thought you couldn't possibly handle any more emotion, Noah’s gaze softened even further as he kissed your cheek.

There was an unspoken plea in his touch - an assurance of protection love.

“You're going to be the death of us,” Noah whispered, holding onto your thigh gently.

Matt laughed softly in the silence, his fingers dancing on your skin, "A hell of a way to go, though," he quipped.

Folio was silent as he traced your collarbone with his fingers, the gentle tickle of his touch making you giggle. He looked up at your laughter, a warm smile spreading across his face as he watched you with reverence.

Each of them seemed to understand that this was something sacred, something that deserved to be protected. And you found comfort in that understanding.

You closed your eyes, melting into the attention they showered upon you.

The satiated glow that encased the room was soothing – it was love and appreciation wrapped around your heart like a warm blanket. Yet there was an underlying charge that tingled beneath your skin, a silent affirmation that this wasn't the end.

Ruffilo discarded the cloth and settled down next to Noah, planting a kiss on your knee before he leaned back against the headboard. His hand found yours and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“So,” you whispered as your eyes lidded with sleep, “Who won the bet?”

The room quieted at your question, each man exchanging looks before they burst into laughter. It was a pleasant sound that echoed in the intimacy of the room.

“I guess we all did,” Ruffilo chuckled.

Noah shook his head and leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "Guess we'll just have to have another round.”

Your chuckle was soft, floating up into the space between you all, "Oh, is that how it is?"

“Seems only fair,” Jolly murmured, his fingers gently playing with your knuckles, running a finger across each one.

Folio let out a laugh, the sound rich and deep, "I'd say it's more than fair," he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

There was a murmur of agreement among them, followed by another round of laughter. You couldn't help but join in, the infectious sound bubbling up from your chest and spilling past your lips.

"And this time," Matt began, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked directly at you, "we'll make sure to keep score."

+++++

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @anything-more-than-human

@blacksoul-2 @sweetwombatpizza

[sturncrazy]

STUCK🔥

part 1

matt sturniolo x fem reader (no use of y/n)

(anyone else is green )

warnings: SMUT 18+ (part two will be major smut this is the warm up🫣)

summary: you and your friend matt are arguing while coming back from a event and are faced with heightened tensions when the elevator of the hotel gets stuck…

authors note: i was INSPIRED by the sam & colby colab i had IDEAS. so this is gonna be a 2 part!! and guys just roll w me — let’s pretend matt wouldn’t be in fetal position crying if an elevator fr got stuck.

word count: 2,060

—————————————————————————

you fussed with the back of your dress desperately trying to reach for its zipper. bodycon dresses like this should’ve been used for torture. finally giving up on completing the task alone, you banged on the door to the adjoining room.

your best friend matt had asked you to be his plus one to a party for one of the various influencer acquaintances of him and his brothers. chris and nick had other plans for the night, and there was no way matt would ever go to any social event alone. so he’d asked you to join. plus he knew you’d love getting all dressed up and even getting to spend the night at a nice hotel covered by the party host.

“WHAT?” shouted matt from the other side of the door

“MAAAATTT i can’t get my dress zipped! help!” you whined back continuing to pound your fist against the frame.

“Okay—just a second”

you jiggled the door handle, impatiently. it swung open to a flustered half ready matt. his soft brown locks were tousled in front of his eyes. he was wearing a white button up, but had only managed to button a couple of the lower ones in his rushed state, exposing his lean and muscular chest. your eyes haphazardly glanced down.

“going for a new slutty look?” you mocked

“oh shut up. you have the patience of a two year old” he shot back as he buttoned the rest of his shirt. you snorted.

“well” he said raising his eyebrows at you

“turn around”

you spun your back to him as his fingers snapped up your zipper.

“thank youuu” you said turning around with a smile. matt’s gaze trailed down from your face and over your figure that was hugged tightly by the black sparkly fabric that stopped only inches below your waist.

“what?” you laughed, confused by his quietness.

“oh-uh-nothing-“ he stuttered, turning away to grab his tie

“am i dressed wrong?”

“no-no you-you look really great” he said with a half smile.

“cmon let’s head out i’ll call us a car”

the party was loud and ridiculously flashy. Matt mingled with people he knew while you stuck a few feet behind. most of the people at events like this had no interest in talking to a no one like you. over an hour had passed and you were just about to ask matt when was a socially acceptable time to head out when you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to see a tall man smiling down at you.

“so why did no one tell me about the competition to bring the prettiest date?” he asked

“the—what?” you stuttered

“i’m joking! but whoever brought you tonight would’ve won”

“oh—thank you?” you felt your cheeks flush slightly

“so who did?” he questioned with a smirk

“i’m sorry?”

“bring you here tonight? who’s your date”

“oh! oh matt did! but not date im just his friend” you nervously giggled

“so what im hearing is your not spoken for?” you had to admit this man was charming and the first interesting thing since being at this party, so you figured what was the harm in entertaining him. as you continued to make flirtatious small talk you felt eyes on you. you whipped around to see matt from a nearby corner staring at you, clearly paying no attention to the two girls talking at him. you gave him a smile, but his blank expression didn’t waiver. it struck you as weird, but you figured he was probably just zoning out.

about 45 minutes of flirting had quickly changed from fun to monotonous. you were preparing to excuse yourself to “go to the bathroom” when a tight grip latched onto your upper arm.

“I wanna leave” matt said flatly in your ear

“wha—oh okay” matt headed for the door, leaving you behind. you said a rushed goodbye and chased after him.

“matt—wait!” he stopped and turned to look at you.

“what the hell?” you said catching up

“didn’t know if you were coming. cars almost here”

matt’s jaw was visibly clenched in the dim lighting of the car. he stared straight ahead not speaking. it was only about a 6 minute drive to the hotel but it felt like a eternity. the hotel lobby was empty as it was past 2 in the morning.

“what’s wrong?” you finally asked as the elevator door shut behind the two of you.

“nothings wrong”

“bullshit. you’re acting weird”

“nope. guess i’m just tired” he said still refusing to look at you

“no i know you and you—“ you were cut off by the sound of your phone going off

“that your new friend from the party?” matt snarked

“my what? what are you talking about?”

“that guy who was all over you”

“guy—is that what’s making you act all weird?—“ suddenly the floor beneath you jolted. the elevator had stopped moving.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me” matt muttered

“did the elevator just break?”

“fucking perfect” he said with an exasperated laugh. you frantically began pressing the help button.

“Hello front desk—“

“Hi—yeah—um the elevator is stuck—“

“Hi ma’am—yes we’re aware—my apologies maintenance has been informed”

“How soon will they be here?”

“within a half hour—“

“A HALF HOUR?”

“I’m so sorry miss, we send the majority of staff home around midnight. were handling this best we can—“

“Okay. I understand. just please as soon as possible”

you backed up to lean against the wall where matt had already settled. silence again.

“well you’re stuck with me now” you attempted to joke

“yup” matt said coldly

“matt seriously? do you have a history with that guy or something”

“it’s not the guy thats my problem”

“oh so what? i’m the problem”

“i didn’t say that—“

“well you implied it—can you look at me?” you snapped. matt turned his face to you.

“i don’t like watching some guy all over you okay—”

“I had no idea that you cared about that sorta thing i mean girls are all over you—“

“of course I fucking care—“

“but why—“ your sentence was halted by matt’s right hand harshly grabbing your waist and his left hand holding onto your cheek, pulling your body flush to his and your faces only a sliver apart.

“because tell me you haven’t felt anything between us. and i’ll stop right now if you do and forget this ever happened. tell me you don’t feel anything for me right now.” he said in a gravely whisper, the warm air of his breath caressing your lips. your eyes flitted back and forth across his that starred hungrily at your lips, pupils blown. without thinking you smashed your lips against his, closing the little space left between you. matt froze for a second before passionately joining you in the kiss. his hand wrapped around to your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him as the other latched itself into your hair. your tongues began to entwine with one and other, battling for dominance. Matt pulled gently on your lower lip with his teeth, before unlocking his lips with yours. you stared up at him breathlessly, not wanting to have stopped. he smirked at the slightly helpless expression on your face before using his grip in your hair to tug your head back to expose your neck. he lowered his lips to give you a sloppy warm kiss on your delicate skin. you let out a soft sigh and matt took this moment of weakness as an opportunity to push you up against the back wall. he continued to pull and kiss at your neck and collar bone, his hands digging into the skin around your hips. heat had began to form between your legs and you let out an involuntary moan as matt bit down on your flesh. one of your legs wrapped around his. he inhaled sharply and looked back up at you.

“careful—you might start something you don’t mean to” he panted

“i know exactly what i wanna start” you whispered before pulling him by his tie back to your lips. you rolled your hips up against him.

“oh you’re in for it now” he groaned against your mouth, pressing his crotch against you. your dress had now pathetically rolled up almost to your hipbones. matt pressed his clothed bulge between your legs, creating friction against your now exposed thong. you were practically dripping at the feeling. his strong hands slid down to your bare ass cheeks and squeezed the plush flesh as he continued to grind himself against you. soft sounds of pleasure tumbled from your mouth.

“your moans are even sexier then i imagined” he huffed against your neck

“yeah? you like hearing me moan for you, matty?” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck

“just hearing you does something to me”

“what does it do to you?” you said innocently. he lifted his head to look you in the eye. he moved one of his hands from your ass on top of your own delicate smaller hand which he then guided down his own torso. the two of you panting like wild animals against each other at the insufferable tension as your hand got lower and lower.

“why don’t you find out for yourself” he whispered as your hand finally reached his covered crotch. your eyes still locked to his, you pressed your palm against his hard on. the feeling of his size alone sent tingles through your body. he moaned at the contact. you repeated the motion. his eyes rolled back into his head. watching him like this was addictive.

“fuck—feels so good—“ he sighed out

“been hard all night cause of you”

“you have?”

“second i saw you in that dress all i could think about was fucking you”

“you thought about fucking me?” you teased. matt grabbed your wrist.

“all the time.” his eyes trailed down your heaving chest to your slightly parted legs, the delicate lace of your thong just visible. he let go of your wrist and ran his fingers from your hip over the top of your thigh to the waist band of your underwear and halted.

“you ever thought about fucking me”

“maybe” you teased, still trying to keep some composure. he lowered his touch expertly to your clit. you bit your lip.

“do you ever touch yourself when you think about me” matt began to drag his finger tips up and down your barely covered slit.

“sometimes”

“does it make you wet” he began to pull the fabric of your thong to the side. you let out a gasp as the cool air hit your exposed folds. you nodded slightly

“nuh uh. i wanna hear you say it.”

“say what”

“tell me i make you wet.“

“you make me so wet matt— i want you so bad—-“

“good girl” he said giving you a light kiss

“and good girls get rewarded” he hummed against your lips as he began to push two fingers into your leaking entrance. you let out a loud moan as you felt his digits begin to rhythmically penetrate your core. you clawed at his flexed biceps

“oh—god—matt—“ you whined

“you like that, beautiful?” he cooed into your ear

“so fucking much” matt began to pick up the pace. you felt a knot in the pit of your stomach start to form.

“shit—i’m close—“ right as the words tumbled from your lips the floor beneath you jolted once more. you and matt shared a panicked look as you both scrambled to collect yourself as the elevator retook its motion. you frantically yanked your dress back down just in time for the doors to slide back open. a hotel employee greeted you

“I am so incredibly sorry about this my sincere apologies. We’ll be comping a part of your stay—“

“oh really it’s fine. we weren’t paying for ourselves to begin with” you brushed off

“still if there’s any way we can make this up to you. let me assist you back to your rooms-what’re the numbers?“ he said hurrying down the hall. you opened your mouth to answer but felt matt yank at your list

“were both in 611, actually” matt barked. you raised an eyebrow at him.

“oh im not done with you yet.”

———————————————————————

ending note:

HEY YALLLLLLLL

IM BACK BABY!!

i’m so sorry i went MIA! i had the craziest last two months of my life and then to top it off i got hit w food poisoning and was in the ER sooooo BUT ANYWAYS IM BACK NOW AND BETTER THAN EVER!

hope u guys like this one i started it like a month ago SO it’s FINALLY coming along. PART TWO SOON

and she’s gonna be FILTHY

[yyawnjun]

BUTTONS

seventeen!95'lines × reader (separately)

summary: according to an ancient story, the greatest way to confess to the girl you love is to give her the top button of your uniform. Knowing thus tradition, here's how I think S.coups, Jeonghan and Joshua would confess their love.

comments, like and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. I hope y'all will like it ♡

high school romance ; fluff!! ; 2.6k wc ; I am so weak for them 😭 ; @kflixnet ; pt2

thank u so much to my fav girl @sobun1est for proofreading this (she deserves the world AND a confession by S.coups asap !!)

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL [ 최승철 ]

Choi Seungcheol. The school slacker. The first time you heard his name was when the science teacher begged you to help him with his finals. He needed help in all scientific subjects, such as math, physics, bio, and chemistry… but from what was said, he was considered hopeless. The first time you met him, he was wearing a pajama - because he refused to “be like the others” wearing the uniform - and kept chewing gum while listening to music while you were trying your best to help him with his math homework.

From that very first moment, you understood why everyone thought he was considered a desperate case. In the first week, he did not listen to you at all, not even glancing at you, he had arrived late and left after less than an hour.

Over time he started to look at you and listen to you. He started to admire your patience, your passion, your focused look as you wrote, your clear voice as you explained, your optimism, and your kind heart...

At the same time, you also started to become attached to him when he first showed the will to improve his situation. Indeed after a week, he bought his first pencil, after two weeks he bought a schoolbag, and after a month he even had a collector with all of the subjects - it was quite well organized at the end of the third month.

His appearance improved during those months: his eyes appeared less tired, his hair wasn't greasy anymore, and he even wore half of the uniform.

On Monday, the results of the final exams had just arrived. It was 9 a.m. - still very early, as they would not display the result posters until 11 a.m. - when your science teacher called you with Seungcheol.

You both came out of your respective classes and as soon as you arrived in front of the teacher, she almost started tearing up with happiness at the news she wanted to announce to you. S.coups, as you had learned to call him by now, had passed all his exams. These were the exact words spoken to you by the professor. She almost jumped up and hugged you, but you were more focused on the proud smile that adorned your friend's face. Indeed by now, you were friends.

After hearing the news, to celebrate you opted to go for a bite to eat at the café near the school after class. That café where you first met when it all started is now filled with your happy chatter.

Having the time to be with him for more hours on that day, you were able to notice so many other details of the new S.coups. He had a rested face, a lot of energy in his speech, brighter eyes, and even an almost complete uniform - he had promised you that he would wear it perfectly only on the last day of school. After some time, he also managed to thank you from the bottom of his heart, and you to gain more confidence in your teaching abilities.

So, the last day of school had arrived, the last goodbyes, hugs, chats, and farewells before the end. But on that very full day, you had by no means forgotten your promise.

In fact, after saying goodbye to your friends, you moved to look for the boy. Thirty minutes had now passed, but nothing. You were about to give un helieving that you had overemphasized what had been between you. You turned to leave until a deep, masculine voice came to your ears that you now knew very well from hearing him repeat all the rules possible and imaginable.

You turned and saw him in all his glory. The sun was shining on his face, and his hair styled with was barely moving in the wind. His eyes were smiling, and he was still shouting your name to indicate his location. Only when he was closer, did you notice that he was wearing his uniform.

His eyes and chest were filled with pride, his smile was proud, and his happiness was more alive than ever. After a quick hug, he pointed out his uniform to you - emphasizing how uncomfortable it was and how much he had done it for you. With dreamy eyes, you stared into his eyes, and he accepted the challenge. Time and space around you appeared still, it was only you and him. But shortly, your eye was drawn to a detail in his clothing. A button was missing from his clothing, the first one from the top, and it was clear that it had been detached.

He noticed the movement of your gaze and your puzzlement. But before you could say anything, he had put the missing button in front of your face. As if to prevent you from doubting him and his promises to you.

"I read that giving the first button of one's uniform to the loved girl is a way of confession," he told you.

"Oh, your romantic side," and before you could ask him any more questions, he shushed you for the second time - like he used to do proudly when he explained the lesson he had learned because of you.

"Here, this is for you," he said handing you the button.  In the end, he kept his promise: he was in his perfect (uni)form, wearing his school uniform and demonstrating his love to you.

YOON JEONGHAN [ 윤정한 ]

Yoon Jeonghan was taller than you, his eyes were brown as hazelnut and his hair black as ebony, his skin was flawless and his smile was always feeble. Although his sneaky character did not match his angel and kind appearance. From the teacher’s point of view, he was the perfect, smart, and angelic student. To everyone, he was the popular, handsome, and cocky boy. To you, he was something more.

You two had many classes together during high school, and you managed to learn more about him. Even if you did not speak much to him, you caught another side of him. Behind his angel appearance and presumptuous acting was a gentle boy. That gentle boy that made you lose your mind for him. You noticed once how he helped a guy who was being bullied or another time when he stayed until 11 pm in the library to help a girl with her math homework. 

So time passed and he quickly became your crush, someone you would always look at and admire from afar. You can’t say that he did not like attention, because he did. But he liked them only when they focused on the things he wanted - like his appearance, his carelessness, his intelligence. He did not want to expose too much of his kind side and you always wondered why,  and the more you knew about him the more you started to like him.

One-side love, mh? That was what you kept reminding yourself while observing him from afar. Many gorgeous girls and boys liked him openly, but he always ended up rejecting them; so you chose to stay silent and watch him from afar.

On one hand, it was nice to have someone to romanticize, someone to think about before bed, or when you needed to cheer up. But immediately after that comfortable feeling, a melancholy one showed up. But it's the one-sided love, isn't it?

So the years passed, you changed, and your crush on him got stronger. Until the last days before the end of high school. When you found yourself, on the last Monday in high school, on a fresh summer night - instead of studying - focusing on the choice of the words for the anonymous letter you would have given to him tomorrow.

He did not want to expose too much of his kind side and you always wondered why,  and the more you knew about him the more you started to like him.You closed it at 10 am before putting it in his lock. As soon as you did, a huge weight lifted from your consciousness, making room for another.

He had seen you secretly place something in his locker. Because after you put the letter Jeonghan saw you, YN.

Yn, the one who won his heart since his freshman year of high school. The one who had been on his mind for years, and as much as he didn't want it, the heart decided on its own.  He instinctively came closer to see what it was, but you quickly moved away. After a week, you went from wanting to confess to wanting to die to hide your feelings for him. 

Your week was no different from his. Until Friday, the last day of school. Your heart lightened when all the exams - and the high school years with them - were over. The day was going beautifully, and you had stopped one last time to look at your - now ex-school. The others had slowly left, it was late afternoon, and you would have to go soon too. So many memories mixed with laughter and tears, so many regrets mixed with victories and disappointments.

Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice that he reached you. You were startled when someone patted your shoulder. He had arrived in silence, and without speaking he made so much noise in your heart that it started beating wildly. You looked at him awkwardly... since the day he saw you put the love letter into his locker, you had only given each other fleeting glances.

He kept not saying a word and looked down at his uniform. The sound of the button being detached from the uniform was the first sound you had heard since his arrival. Still, in disbelief, you didn't move.  He took your hand and placed the button in it.

He smiled at you, with the faint smile of him - the one that you loved so intensely - with those hazel eyes that had drawn you, he patted your head, and without saying anything he turned to leave. Was this perhaps his way of confessing… Wait, was he confessing?

Your surprised look was replaced by a huge smile, and your heart kept beating rapidly - but not anymore only for the love tension, now even for the exhaustion of running as you chased him, demanding answers, confessions, and maybe something more...

HONG JISOO [ 홍지수 ]

Everyone knew who Hong Jisoo was. Everyone called him Joshua, and he was known as one of the nicest and kindest boys at school.  However, he was so kind that people easily took advantage of him. Starting with occasional help with English homework, solving math problems, and planning for free private lessons several times per week.

Initially, he was happy that he could help everyone and was flattered when girls came to him with long letters that showed to be a mix of a confession of love and thanks for the school's help.

However, the more he gave of himself to others, the less of himself left. Joshua was gradually wearing himself out. He was so focused on others that he had forgotten about himself.

He thought about this for the first time as he left for school, with music in his ears as he finished tying up his uniform. Just as he was about to do so, he realized it was missing again the top button. The one that was meant to be given to the girl he loved. Instead, someone stole it for him when he had left his uniform in class for PE class.

It was the third time that week, but he had gradually accepted it because he didn't know who was responsible. He kept reminding himself that school would be over in a week. He could bear with it, right? So he arrived at school, greeted everyone with his usual cheerful smile, and sat down. Resigned that he would be without a button for one more day.

Or so he thought. In his underbench was a rosy cloth tissue, with a brand-new button inside and a small note saying: Take care of yourself.

The gesture made him smile immensely and soothed his troubled soul. Who on earth could it have been? Who on earth could have noticed what had happened to him?

And as his curiosity increased, so did your beats as you watched him bask in the happiness of having found your gift for him. Indeed, you had long noticed how much he was a victim of others' exploitation. 

And once, after you had asked him who his love was - referring to the missing button - he had told you that someone had even taken the button off his uniform.

Since then you began to feel closer to that boy, who appeared perfect and cheerful from a distance. And you had decided to help him secretly and from a distance.  And you realized that was great; seeing him happy after finding the button had already brightened your day.

The day had gone by swiftly, and you had exchanged a few words with him as usual. He had been gentle as always and proudly wore the button given to him.

The daily hour of PE arrived, and for the fourth time, his button was stolen.

This time it hurt him a bit more because it was a gift; you could see a blank expression on his face, a dull grin, and a suppressed anger with clenched teeth. That day he returned home earlier than everyone.

But the next day - the last day of school - you put for the second time a button on a pink tissue for him. “I am on your side; take care of yourself!” That was the new note you'd left on his desk.

As soon as he saw it, he hurried back to the school tailor's class and sewed it tightly to his uniform with a needle and thread.

Because it was the last day of school, you were both happy with the end of the tests, and your day went well until the last hour. You did not do PE, so you stayed in class and napped on your desk. 

You did it to rest but also tried to catch the button thief in the act. It had been a few minutes since you heard the classroom door open and saw who had come. You quickly took a picture, scaring the thief away, but the robbery had already happened, and the button was missing again. Anger welled up in your veins after Joshua's button was stolen for the umpteenth time.

Without thinking about it, you pulled off the first button on your uniform, and with the sewing kit you always carried with you, you put it on his uniform. 

Just in time for when your classmates returned to class.

You knew it was a button from the girl's uniform, but you hoped that he would not pay too much attention to it. And so it seemed, for he had said nothing and had only put his uniform back on.

So high school had ended, and you were heading home free of stress and negative feelings. When you heard someone call out your name. 

You stopped and turned around; it was Joshua. He was running toward you waving his hand. "There's something I want to give you." He told you as he caught his breath after catching up with you.

"I think you know the legend of the button given to the loved one - and you nodded as your heart rate grew, was this what you thought was going on? - Here. Here it is the button as an act of my love and gratitude for your kindness, which quietly brightened my day."

With that said, he approached your face and very carefully began stitching up the missing button on your uniform with one of his own.

On a pleasant summer day, you two confessed your love with a button exchange, hand in hand, and excitement in your heart.

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 10) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): sickening amount of fluff, language, angst, *SMUT*: oral (m + f receiving), fingering, hand job, p in v, overstimulation if you blink

Word Count: 6,892

A/N: If you’re here, congratulations! You made it to the end. A big thank you to everyone that has commented, shared, liked, etc. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since my first post. I had a vision when I started writing this in the middle of the 2022 season, not quite sure where it would lead, but I’m happy with where it landed and I hope you are too. I hope you like wine with your cheese, because this is ~cheesy~. Also, this is my first time writing smut so (1) if you are a minor please do not proceed; (2) if you do like/read smut, I would appreciate any kind of feedback. A big thank you to @cutelittlefakejourneys and @burningcupcakefire for beta-ing. Thank you @paddockbunny, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz for the insights and words of encouragement. As always, thank you for reading.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel paced the hallway. He wasn’t accustomed to not getting what he wanted. Sure, in the last few months he had had his fair share of disappointments, but this was different. He was tempted to knock on your door until you answered, but thought the better of it.

He played through the moment in his head again, no different than analyzing a post-race debrief. What went wrong and how could he improve? He was professional during the signing. He knew you loved Geri, you only casually brought up Ginger Spice in conversation no less than a dozen times over the last few months. He knew you’d love to actually meet her – who knows, if everything went well it certainly wouldn’t be the last time for you. He didn’t force himself on you – at this point he knew you were like a cat and he needed to wait for you to come to him or else he’d scare you off. It seemed like the only thing keeping you from ripping each other’s clothes off was your job. Or so he thought.

Now he was confused. It was clear you hadn’t meant to say what you said – but you said it. I could kiss you. Can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Four words that looped in his brain. He had spent so much time dissecting the meaning of the word “could,” he felt like he could be a lawyer too. But he had taken his time closing the space between you in the hallway. When he leaned in, you leaned in too. You had ample time to tell him off if he had misconstrued the whole thing, and he would never think less of you if you did, but you didn’t.

No, what just happened was not a rejection. You were just skittish. Like a cat hiding under a bed, you just needed to be coaxed out – slowly. You were food motivated, he’d learned that about you during your first outing in Belgium when you put down more bon bons than he thought was humanly possible. Yes, all you needed was to be approached with patience and understanding - and maybe the promise of a full belly.

-

You leaned against the door and squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment already crashing over you like a tidal wave. You knew you were being ridiculous and immature. What was it that you were still afraid of?

You stripped off your suit immediately, it felt stuffy and heavy as you overheated, the reminder of your attorney-client relationship falling to the floor. You threw on the first thing you grabbed out of your bag - why did it have to be that pesky yellow dress again?

You paced your room for what felt like hours. Your professional activities with Daniel had officially come to its natural conclusion and yet you were still hesitant to move forward. It didn’t help that you were in a country that banned the cohabitation of unmarried couples, so really, what were you even going to do?

Despite the confessions exchanged back in Mexico and the kiss in Brazil, it was never guaranteed that anything would actually happen once Daniel’s legal affairs were settled. Frankly, you still weren’t fully convinced the conversations ever actually happened. You refused to believe the lingering stares and little touches that lasted a little too long were anything more than pure coincidence.

In spite of all of it, you remained unconvinced about how Daniel actually felt about you. Over the years of failed relationships and first dates that ranged from awkward to bad, you had grown wary and skeptical of romantic pursuits. For all you knew, all his lip-service was simply an elaborate ruse to get in your pants. You thought on this worst case scenario, which really wasn’t so bad. God forbid you have one night stand with a Formula 1 driver and live to tell the tale. It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t be hurt at first if you were correct, but you would eventually be fine. You had been happily single and independent for years, it would simply be a return to your de facto state.

And even if you could take him at his word, you couldn’t help but wonder what that relationship would look like when you had to resume work for other clients and the luxury of constant travel and proximity ceased. How would you continue to keep in touch? How often would you actually be able to see each other in person? Your first relationship was with The Firm, and you knew you weren’t ready to give up your livelihood for him. Then there was the other issue of paparazzi and tabloids - the forced spotlight that would fall on you, resulting in the lack of privacy and anonymity. You had no desire for fame, yet he seemed to be designed for it. You could go toe-to-toe with opposing counsel any day, but you weren’t sure you had his mental fortitude to withstand the cruel and unsolicited opinions of strangers on the internet.

You weighed the pros and cons over and over again in your head. For someone with such a demanding job, it made no sense that it all felt so overwhelming and complicated. But it was telling that the Australian was the first person you wanted to confide in. He was the only one who could ever quiet the constant hurricane in your mind that caused you to spiral if left unchecked. In this moment, you needed him to ground you.

You had been raised to leave hotel room minibars alone unless you wanted to bankrupt you and your entire family for two generations. Going against everything you believed, you took a nip from the stock. Hoping the small amount of liquid courage would do the trick, you checked your reflection in the mirror one last time before venturing to the room next door. You would simply have to assume the risk of the unknown aftermath.

With shaking hands, you opened the door only to be met with Daniel’s presence before you. He jumped slightly at the sudden movement. You did a poor job hiding your astonishment that left you frozen in place.

“Oh… hi?” Your eyes remained wide. He looked around and scratched the back of his head, appearing to be as surprised and confused as you were.

“Hi – I uh,” he took a moment to give you a once over. “I’m sorry are you about to go somewhere? You look nice.” You felt your face turn red immediately, the bravery you built up moments ago dissipating in an instance. He shifted his weight, quickly correcting himself. “Not that you don’t always look nice! I just – you look nicer than usual. I mean-” He seemed uncharacteristically nervous and was digging himself a hole. You looked around the hall to ensure it was empty and took a deep breath to save him from digging any deeper.

“Yes actually. I was going to see you.” He seemed surprised and relieved at the answer.

“No way, I was about to see you!” He shook his head when he saw you bite back a smile. “Obviously, I’ve been standing outside your door,” he laughed nervously, his confidence shrinking by the second. “Not for very long though! You didn’t need to know that. But I wanted to come to say I’m sorry about before, I was too forward back there. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just figured, you know, since we went pencils down and everything, maybe we could-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” You walked backwards as you took his hand, leading him through the doorway. He didn’t fight your lead.

“-you don’t know what I was going to ask.” You leaned back, allowing the door to click behind you under your weight.

“It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes.” You gave him a reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand bringing him closer. “With you it will always be yes.” It seemed both of you were at a loss for words, but they were unnecessary as he took a step towards you closing the small gap that remained. His eyes were enchantingly curious as they gazed into yours. You only looked away for a millisecond, distracted by the tongue that broke free from his mouth to moisten his plump lips. You took a deep inhale in anticipation, your heartbeat bordering on palpitations as his lips closed in.

The moment they met yours, immediately you knew you never wanted boundaries with this man ever again. One hand cupped the side of your face while the other grabbed your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an effort to eliminate any remaining iota of space between the two of you. Your lips danced and moved together in unison, neither of you wanting to come up for air. His firm calloused hands roamed your body, unsure of where to rest. There were so many parts of you he had never touched before and he wanted desperately to become acquainted with them as quickly as possible. He squeezed your shoulders, ran them down the lengths of your arms, moved to the small of your back up towards your neck, in your hair.

The feverishness of it all began to slow, as he tried to memorize every peak and valley. He reverently moved his hands from your waist, dragging them up the length of your spine, one hand finding its way to your hair as though he wanted to remember every hair follicle, the other keeping your body firmly pressed against his. The leisurely pace only teased you, and each spot he touched left your body buzzing. He slowly brought his other hand to find yours again, repositioning so your fingers interlocked. The sweet gesture felt suddenly sinful when he pinned them to the wall, dragging them up the door until they were next to your head. The motion made your head spin, warmth spreading between your thighs, and you inadvertently let out a soft moan.

Ravenous for more, he firmly pressed your bodies together against the door, almost knocking the wind out of you. He pulled away only for a moment, his eyes pleading.

Can I?

You nodded your head frantically, capturing his mouth once more while guiding his hands to the parts you desperately needed touched. One gently cupped your breast while the other roughly grabbed your ass, kneading the muscles underneath. You both groaned in unison at the new sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” he mouthed breathlessly before finding your neck, hoping the feeling was mutual. You didn’t say anything back, but he could tell from the pant of your breath and the pulse under his lips that it was. You threw your head back as he sucked, licked, and nipped at the sweet spot as he gently grazed his thumb over your bra, immediately feeling your nipple form into a stiff peak underneath. Being mindful of your noise level, you bit back a moan that ended up coming out as a pathetic whimper. You shamelessly pushed your hips against his and squeezed his hand on your breast, encouraging him to explore and desperate for more contact.

You instinctively widened your stance for him to perch himself between your legs. His hand played with the waistband of your underwear through your dress, trailing down to your inner upper thigh.

“Stop teasing,” you hissed. He only smiled into the kiss in response, his tongue pushing into your mouth to shut you up.

Your hands followed their own curious whims. Those pecs that you had gotten an eyeful of several times felt warm and firm under your touch. Your palm dragged down the ripples of his abs, gently landing over the front of his pants. You gasped feeling him harden under your touch for the first time, eliciting a low growl from him in return. His hips pushed forward in frustration, eager for more. You allowed him some relief, undoing his belt and pants, cautiously reaching inside. Your eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as you grabbed around his length, your hand suddenly feeling quite small. He looked you dead in the eye, that familiar cocky smirk and twinkle returning to his face.

“Come on,” he flashed you a wicked grin. “You knew it had to be big.” You laughed at his boldness, which only inspired him to double down. “I know how to use it too.”

“That’s some awfully big talk.” You already had goosebumps from your head to your toes, but you weren’t going to let him know that just yet. You would make sure he worked for it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s not the only thing I know how to use.”

He captured your mouth in a gentle, chaste kiss as he used one hand to pull up the hem of your dress. His other hand snuck under the skirt, slowly dragging it across your skin. Rough and calloused from racing, they felt tantalizingly delicate.

“I was going to prove it, but it looks like I already convinced you.” He drew little spirals around your clit over your panties, barely applying any pressure. You bit your lip and looked up to the ceiling, praying for relief from the building tension. To your chagrin, his hand began to pull away.

“No. Please,” was all you could muster, your brain searching for more eloquent words that escaped you.

“Please what?” You reached for his crotch, hoping the action would suffice as an answer, but he grabbed your wrist to pin it to the door. “You have to use your words.” You felt the words on his breath that seeped through your skin.

“Please touch me.” Frustrated, you used your free hand to try to get him to fully take your dress off which was only getting in the way. He obliged, releasing your other hand to get a hold of the fabric. You put your arms up as he gathered the material over your head. Throwing the garment aside, he pulled away slightly to observe you for a moment. His eyes widening as they moved down your frame, trying and failing to hide his growing smirk.

“Do you always wear pretty underwear when you close a deal? Or are these for me?” He played with the pink lacy textile between his fingers, admiring how they accentuated the contour of your waist and hips.

“Both,” you gasped as he dragged a finger down your front. It passed over your clit, down to the fabric covering your entrance, smiling feeling how embarrassingly soaked you already were through the thin material.

With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, chest, stomach, until he reached the hem of fabric. He continued over the garment, bypassing the spot he knew you needed him to your inner thigh. The gentle touches and the scruff of his beard almost tickled, panting as he moved down your body.

He looped his thumbs around the sides of your thong, pausing to look up hopefully for permission. You nodded with lidded, lustful eyes. He couldn’t hide his dimples and he continued to tease, dragging your panties slowly down your legs, taking care to pick up each foot to get you out of them. Your heart swelled as you observed him treating you so delicately, like a fragile porcelain doll. His trail of kisses started again from the bottom, beginning at your ankle, to the inside of your knee and again to your upper thigh until he reached an apex.

“Hold on.” You weren’t sure what he meant at first. Then without warning, he grabbed your hip and threw your opposite leg over his shoulder, finally diving into your center. Your hands instinctively found their way to his head to stabilize yourself, accidentally letting out a yelp in the process which soon after turned into a low moan as his tongue swirled slow circles around your clit. “You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled into your skin.

The vision of him on his knees fully clothed, contrasted with your nakedness enhanced his touch and sent you spiraling. Your hands raked through his gorgeous curls as he lapped you up. The pressure he applied gradually increased, culminating to him inserting a finger in you, then two. You slapped a hand over your mouth as the pressure pooled and he found his rhythm with his tongue and fingers. He knew you were close when your legs started to shake and squeezed around him. The waves came crashing over you as you bucked your hips erratically. He removed his fingers so that he could stabilize you, but his mouth never stopped.

He finally put your other leg back on the ground when your hips slowed and stood up. Your legs almost buckled from underneath you but he caught you before you could fall, lifting you to walk to the bed.

You watched him carry you wordlessly, your brain still short circuiting from your orgasm only knowing enough to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Not because you thought he’d drop you, but because you wanted to be as close to him as possible. It still wasn’t close enough.

He sat himself down on the bed with you landing in his lap, legs still wrapped tightly. There had never been a time where the two of you have been in the same room and exchanged so few words. You continued to stare at each other, simply amazed to be in the same space and sharing skin after three long anguished months of resisting forbidden fruit.

Your gaze fell to his swollen lips that you desperately wanted to taste again, still shiny with your essence. His hand pressed up your back until he grabbed a fistful of hair, bringing you in fervently for another kiss. It was the kind of kiss that enveloped you, that turned your legs to water and caused currents in you to flow creating bountiful energy that begged for release. Your hands roamed from his shoulders, down his chest and abs to the hem of his shirt. The two of you pried it off together and he threw it somewhere on the floor. Your mouths met again gluing your torsos together, your currents crashing in a tidal wave of electricity and emotion.

You unwrapped your legs to straddle him, lightly pushing him backwards. He pulled you with him as you both fell into the bed, smiling into each other and little giggles filling the air. You rolled your hips over him, annoyed with the layers that still separated you from the waist down. You reached down, sloppily pushing at his pants to demonstrate your displeasure. He understood your message, weaving his arms past you to finish the job and shimmying his legs until they were off. You reached down the waistband of his boxer briefs, teasing your fingertips just underneath but not going further. It thrilled you to feel his muscles tense underneath your touch. He nipped your bottom lip when your hand moved further south, and you could feel his jaw clench.

He pulled away suddenly, and you couldn’t place the look on his face which made you nervous.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s just…” his hand cupped the side of your face, caressing your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Your heart swelled at how delicate he was with you, at how much he cared. But you didn’t want to be treated delicately. And now you almost felt bad about how much you’d teased him up to this point. Almost.

“Do you know,” you said sitting up, your hand ghosting over the outline of him through his boxer briefs, “I had a sex dream about you. Right before the Japanese Grand Prix.”

“No,” he ground out.

“You had my legs spread on a desk in some McLaren office.” You felt his whole body clench again as you slid the last piece of clothing down his legs. As though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind every time you admonished him for not paying attention or not taking things seriously in those early days. The frequency of course increased, to every time you bent over, smiled, or played with your hair, to simply existing. For once, he was the one blushing and you found it entirely endearing. “I’ve literally dreamt of fucking you for three months. I want you and I need you. Now.”

His pupils dilated at your words, and his hands moved possessively from your face down to your ass where his fingers sank into your skin hoping to mark and keep you. He tried to find the words to communicate how badly he wanted and needed you too, but blood was no longer flowing to his brain and no words seemed perfect enough for you. His shaft twitched against his toned stomach, eager for your touch. You relieved him, wrapping your full hand around his impressive length pumping up and down a few times, your gentle grip slowly firming with each stroke.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His hand found your waist and you felt his grip tighten as you continued. You slithered down his body until your mouth aligned with him, spitting over his tip. He felt voyeuristic watching the saliva drip from your tongue. You looked up to see him gripping the sheets for dear life.

“Is that alright?” He nodded fervently.

“Only if you want to,” he croaked out. Bless this man, who just wanted to make sure you were comfortable even though it looked like his eyes were going to roll back into his head.

“I do. Very much,” you insisted. You dragged your tongue slowly from the base of his shaft to his tip. “You made me feel good.” Lick. “Now I want to make you feel good.” His shallow breath hitched when you finally took him in your mouth. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, you looked up to make sure he was still breathing. You found him slack jawed, but eyes full of lust. He brought a hand to your head. You prepared your gag reflex expecting him to force your rhythm, but instead simply pushed your hair out of your face.

“Fuck, you look so good.” You felt the slickness spread between your thighs at his praise, adding a hand to his base where your mouth couldn’t quite reach. You increased your speed, moaning into him. He happily absorbed the vibrations, reflexively bucking his hips into you. You tasted salty precum at his tip and could tell he was close.

“W-wait,” you slowed your pace but didn’t remove him as you looked up again. “I don’t want to finish yet. Not like this.” You slowly pried yourself off him, finishing with a satisfying *pop* as you released him. You saw his chest rise and fall at an alarming rate. He helped pull you up, interlocking your fingers in the process.

“What do you want?” you asked, knowing you would do whatever came out of his mouth without hesitation.

“Grab my jeans?” You couldn't hide your skepticism, but nonetheless begrudgingly left the nicest seat you’ve ever known to find his pants somewhere on the floor. You resumed your spot on his lap as he frantically searched his pockets, finally locating his wallet and fished out a condom. Everything else found its way back to the ground. Eyes wide, he maintained a death grip on the condom. “You’re sure?”

You smiled. You thumbed his jawline as you brought your foreheads together. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” It took him about four seconds to process what you said, but when he did closed the gap between your lips in a messy and desperate kiss that sucked the air out of you. It dizzied him too and only pulled away when he remembered he had to open the condom. You leaned back to give him some space as he struggled with the wrapper. His brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to steady his shaky hands.

“I swear I’m usually a lot smoother than this,” he muttered. You bit back a laugh.

“I believe you.”  

“You just make me nervous,” he admitted, uncharacteristically bashful. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Hardly noticed,” you said sarcastically, but reassured him with a giggle. “It’s very endearing, if it makes you feel any better.” You calmly grabbed it from him.

“It does,” he confessed as he let you take it from his hands. Without breaking eye contact, you ripped the wrapper easily with your teeth. You felt him twitch under you as you wriggled yourself against him in content, allowing him to feel your arousal. He swallowed thickly. “Where did you learn that?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” you smirked. You moved off him for a moment, and he took the chance to stroke himself a few times, watching you absentmindedly. How your hair, now perfectly tousled, fell around your shoulders. How gravity worked miracles on the swell of your breasts. How your waist sloped into your hips and thighs. You patiently presented the condom back to him and he used all his concentration to take it from you to roll it down his length. He looked at you hopefully when he was done and you rewarded him with another kiss, your hair cascading around the two of you creating a protective curtain around your new little intimate universe.

You both watched as you eased yourself onto his cock, voyeurs of your own lust. Your moans harmonized as he bottomed out. You felt deliciously stretched and full. Complete. You began slow to adjust to his size, teasing him in the process with your agonizing pace, rising up to the point of almost dismount before sinking back down again engulfing his full length.

“Does this feel good?” you cooed, already knowing the answer as you swirled your hips with him bottomed out inside you, tormentingly slow.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he groaned as he palmed your ass. “You’re so fucking tight.” You dragged a hand from his chest, down the ripples of his abs, towards where the two of you intercepted. With his jaw clenched, he sank his fingers in your hips, trying unsuccessfully to steady them as you continued to rock. “You look so good with me inside you.”

He lifted his hips to meet yours as proof of his enjoyment, the new angle jolting you forward slightly. A moan escaped as you found a rhythm as you rolled your hips back and forth, itching for the friction of his skin against your already swollen clit. Your pace quickened as his length hit that sacred spot deep in your core over and over. The bounce of your tits mesmerized him. Unable to resist, his mouth found a nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive peak that had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered. You felt the pressure pool and coil in your lower abdomen. Your eyes closed when he grabbed the back of your head, gently pulling your hair.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.” All you could do was nod in response, worried that any sound you might let out at that point would alert the whole building. It was impossible to look away from his gaze even if you wanted to. You bit your lip as the pressure continued to build, hypnotized by the repetition and sensory overload. You rocked back onto him a final time before reaching your release, collapsing on forward onto his chest and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer as your hips slowed and stuttered.

Yes

Daniel

He’d never heard a more beautiful sound before. His mouth caught yours again, absorbing the moans that continued as you rode out your orgasm. He wrapped an arm around your lower back to pull you flush to his chest and began to upthrust, building to an excruciating pace. You held onto his shoulders for dear life.

“W-what are you doing?” You knew you sounded pathetic, barely able to form the sentence. He smirked.

“Getting you to Number Three.”

“I can’t,” you whined. He pulled you close and rolled the two of you over, taking care to remain buried inside of you. You gasped at the sudden movement, eyes wide when you landed on your back.

“Three’s my lucky number.” He gave a few slow pumps before pushing himself up to spread your legs. He admired the change in your face at each new angle, each expression more perfect than the next. He brought his thumb down to your clit and watched you whither under his touch. With the new view he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the work this time.”

You couldn’t argue with his logic. The only response you could give were incantations of profanities as he fucked you into the mattress and his gentle finger rubbing the sensitive nub just above where your bodies joined. He glistened as beads of sweat formed over his body, enhancing the contours of his muscles with each thrust. It was all too much. You felt your walls begin to clench again, your body eagerly anticipating its reward.

Daniel saw your mouth mold into an “o”, the slight twitch of your muscles, and felt the pressure that was building inside you. He prayed you were close knowing that his stamina would soon run out.

“That’s it. Come for me.” Daniel counted his blessings that he should be so lucky to have a front row seat, not once, not twice, but three times to your orgasms. You were so beautiful. Too beautiful. He couldn’t stop himself from chasing his own high as he watched you twist and contort under him. His thrusts became more frantic and erratic as your moans filled the room until he spilled into you, lurching forward but catching himself before fully collapsing on top of you.

Finally the motions stopped, except for the quickened rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch your breath. You blinked at each other a few times, still unable to move or think. Daniel broke the silence.

“Holy shit.” You couldn’t help the stupid grin that formed. You pressed a hand to his cheek just to make sure he was still real.

“That good, huh?” He begrudgingly began to move and pulled out of you, rolling over to your side. He propped himself on his elbow and looked down on you, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your soft belly.  

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab dinner. But that was way better.” You both laughed as you nuzzled into each other, still peppering the other with butterfly kisses and holding onto the belief that the world was the size of a queen-size bed.

Eventually he got up to go to the bathroom. As soon as he left your side, the intrusive thoughts returned and you began mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable goodbye. You watched silently as he searched the floor for his underwear, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil. This was fun you repeated in your head. It will be a good story to tell you tried convincing yourself.  

He came back to bed and snuggled up against you.

“Now what?” he asked innocently. You squinted back at him, laughing slightly.  

“That’s an awfully loaded question, don’t you think?” He seemed confounded for a moment.

“I mean, I was just thinking we could get food now? What were you thinking?” You forgot that men could be such simple creatures. Maybe it was the audacity that allowed them to go about life blissfully unaware or unconcerned about hypothetical what if’s and unintended consequences of their actions. But for now, maybe you needed to think like a man too. You didn’t need to solve all the world’s problems in one night. Maybe all you needed was to just enjoy whatever this was for whatever time was left before you got on a flight tomorrow to return to reality.

“Yeah, I guess I worked up an appetite.” He broke into a wide grin. He grabbed your face to bless you with a kiss on the forehead before fetching the menu.

“Great. I’ll order us room service.”

-

Your eyes fluttered open the next morning. Scenes from the night before played on a loop in your head. Sweaty bodies entangled in a sea of limbs. In your experience, men who were that charismatic and that good looking rarely knew what to do with the bodies they had been blessed with. And yet…

You were afraid to open your eyes, not ready to let go of the memory that brought a smile to your face so you kept them closed a bit longer. Instead, you extended a hesitant hand to the other side of the bed expecting to feel the warm body of your evening companion, but you felt nothing. You reluctantly opened your eyes.

“Dan?” Your voice was soft and hoarse from sleep. Nothing. Maybe he hadn’t heard you.

“Daniel?” You tried again, a bit louder this time. Still no response.

You slowly got out of bed half asleep, the line between your dreams and the real world still not quite defined. You zombie-walked to the window, delicately drawing back the blackout curtains of the hotel room. You winced as your eyes adjusted to the natural light. Your clothes were still on the floor where they had been unceremoniously discarded, but the other outfit that had kept them company had disappeared. Your heart fell.

“Daniel?” you tried one last time, voice cracking slightly. Maybe he was in the bathroom. Maybe he had eaten something bad yesterday. You knocked on the door before cautiously opening it. You stood in the doorway a beat too long, unable to move from the empty space. He had been so convincing, so charming, and you fell for it. You had been so guarded and careful, you thought you had sniffed out any unsavory motives and you still were left feeling used and abandoned.

You blinked back tears before they could fall, hiding your defeat from no one in particular in the privacy of your hotel room. You wiped your eyes, chugged a glass of water, for some masochist reason put on your Enchante sweatshirt and got back into bed. It was still early, maybe you could sleep another few hours before you had to get ready to go to the airport. Maybe that sleep would help you forget and ease the overwhelming humiliation and melancholy that fell over you.

As you began to drift off, a noise at the door startled you awake. You realized it was the sound of the door key and grabbed sheets to cover yourself quickly, unsure what else to do.

“I’m not ready for housecleaning!” you yelled uncertainly, praying it was in fact hotel staff and not a burglar.

“Hey hey hey, it’s just me. Good morning to you too.” You slowly peaked your head from under the covers, shocked at the sound of the reassuring, achingly familiar Australian accent. The driver stood in the foyer, his hands overflowing with bags and precariously balancing two coffee cups. You sat up a bit more as you processed the sight in front of you.

“What-?” you trailed off. He seemed nervous, but a smile never left his face.

“I, uh, wanted to surprise you with breakfast. There’s a little place down the street. But you looked so peaceful sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you, so I grabbed your room key. But I realized when I got there I didn’t know what you liked, and my phone died, so I kind of got one of everything…I hope that’s ok. I didn’t mean to scare you –“

As he rambled, you had silently gotten out of bed to grab the cups from his hands, placing them on the table along with the insane amount of bags, one by one. With all obstacles removed, you enveloped your arms around his neck and stamped his lips with a kiss. He was surprised by the sudden gesture but returned it eagerly, his hands still familiarizing themselves with you. He blinked a few times when you pulled away.

“I promise I will get breakfast for you every day if you like it that much.” You laughed with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you looked away.

“I thought you left,” your small voice shrank in embarrassment that you had jumped to conclusions so quickly. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain further.

But you didn’t have to. He wrapped you in a bear hug crushing you into his chest, his lips nuzzled into the crown of your head, his body heat invigorating you.

“I’m sorry, I should have texted or let you know where I was.”

“No, it’s silly. I was being overdramatic.”

“It’s not silly. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what does that mean?” you asked in exasperation. He pulled away and looked at you in disbelief that you would even ask such a question.

“What do you want it to mean?” You bit your lip in frustration.

“Daniel, don’t be obtuse. In a couple of hours we’re getting on different planes to go to opposite sides of the world.”

“And?”

“We’re not going to see each other.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I know people with private jets.”

“I still have to work.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“My apartment is small.”

“I can pack light.”

“What if you meet someone else when we’re not together?” He let out an irritated sigh.

“I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

You were stumped. He could read the confused look on your face and gently grabbed the sides of your shoulders. “You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb sometimes.” You crossed your arms.

“Hey!”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe for some reason, but I want to give this a real shot. I want to take you on a proper date. See what things look like when I’m not paying you to spend time with me.”

You looked down, feeling a little guilty about how much you doubted him. You couldn’t help that you were risk averse by nature.

“Did you just… Socratic method me to get me to understand that you like me?”

“Did it work?”

“Let’s just say you have a bright future as a law school professor if this whole driving thing doesn’t work out.” You paused for a moment, still trying to wrap your head around everything. “So… you really want to give this a go?” He rolled his eyes.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

“I mean – yeah, a little. The world that you operate in is just so much different than mine. Your world consists of beautiful people.”

“You’re beautiful,” he retorted. You blushed but didn’t let the comment throw you off your stride.

“You know what I mean. Your world is glamorous and luxurious. My world is average. It’s a lot of take-out, it’s late nights on the phone with Joe, it’s boring suits, it’s work - without the recognition and without the spotlight. You could have any actress or model or singer in the world and you pick me. Can you blame me for being skeptical?” His face fell slightly as he realized that you didn’t think your shine was bright enough for him. But it was quickly replaced with something mischievous.

“What are you talking about? You’re a singer,” he said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes.

“You’ve unfortunately seen me do karaoke, we both know that’s a lie.”

“Your morning shower performances beg to differ.” He laughed at the terror that flashed before your eyes as you threw your hands over your mouth, but quickly reassured you. “I’ve listened to you every morning since we got here. It’s the best part of my day, until I see you.” He pried your hands from your face, holding them in his. “And the last thing you are, is average. Can we please just try?”

You bit your lip, unable to contain the blush spurred by his words of affirmation. The squeeze of his hands on yours caused the dormant butterflies in your stomach to flutter their delicate wings and rise to your chest. A comforting warmth enveloped you, it rose to your cheeks and the answer was there plain as day on your face for him and the world to see. No, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Only if… you’ll do a duet with me.” After holding his breath for what seemed like eternity, his joy and happiness hanging in the balance waiting for your response, he broke into a toothy grin that used every dimple and laugh line on his face. Without skipping a beat, he threw you over his shoulder and made his way to the bathroom leaving a trail of your giggles in his wake.

“I’m ready for my audition.”

[hard-core-super-star]

could you write kate missing reader's birthday party ?? pls and thank u

-💜

i bet it stung [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: kate tries her best to be there for everyone but sometimes, she messes up.

warnings: angst with happy ending; mutual pining, friends to lovers; kate's a mess but she's trying her best; allusions to sex + mentions of hickeys; NOT proofread

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: HEY GUYS! i've been spending most of my time working on polishing vampire!kate and trying to figure out an upload schedule for new chapters BUT i suddenly got hit with inspiration to tackle this request and now it's here. i actually really liked how this turned out, sorry to the anon who requested this because it took me a RIDICULOUS amount of time to write it 😅 as always, thanks for the love, support, and patience. hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You didn't want to think the worst of your best friend.

You wanted to be kind and patient and understanding and not give her the silent treatment like she deserved. But what else were you supposed to do after she broke yet another promise to you?

Maybe it was stupid, maybe you were being overdramatic, or maybe you had a damn good reason for feeling so disappointed.

It wasn't the biggest deal in the world, you knew that, but that didn't stop you from wanting to shut down and hide in your room. You couldn't do that, though, since you were still in the middle of your living room, celebrating your birthday.

Well, celebrating is putting it nicely.

It's more like you're sitting on your couch, surrounded by people who know and love you, and trying to act like your heart isn't sinking down into your stomach and making it churn with something akin to anxiety. What's bothering you isn't anxiety, though.

It's the fact that Kate looked you right in the eye and promised she would be there before the end of the night. Your birthday wasn't exactly the best day for the archer to go off on a complicated mission but it wasn't like she had a choice.

At least, that's what she had said before running out the door with that breathtaking smile on her face.

You had believed her at that moment but then night came and Yelena showed up at your apartment with a bottle of unlabeled vodka in her hand and no awkward archer at her side. It would have been fine if the blonde hadn't mentioned she had no idea where Kate was even though she had told you Yelena had assigned the mission to her.

You didn't want to make a scene, though, you were supposed to be enjoying your day and getting slightly too drunk with your friends while eating ridiculously expensive cake.

Your change in mood didn't go unnoticed by the Russian or the rest of your friends.

"She'll be here," Peter says, offering you a small smile. "She's just a little late."

"Yeah!" Kamala joins in, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. "When has Kate not been late to something, right?"

Yelena opens her mouth to answer but the glare you send her way makes her rethink her words. "She is…awful at time management."

You snort, lifting up your cup. "Cheers to that."

Your friends join in and you down the rest of your drink, thankful that the bitter taste of the alcohol distracts you from your bitter feelings.

The rest of the night looks the same with drinking and crappy jokes and far too many slices of cake. Your friends leave a few hours later and it's not until you turn the music off and silence engulfs you that you remember your disappointment.

More than that, it suddenly dawns on you that you're alone.

That Kate still isn't back.

It hurts more than it should.

You know she didn't lie but she still chose not to tell you she wouldn't make it. She promised she'd show up and she didn't.

You're in the middle of cleaning up the kitchen, doing your best to hold back your tears because you are not going to cry on your birthday, when you hear the sound of the front door opening.

It takes a lot of self-restraint to stay instead of running away like you want to. You already know you'll end up forgiving her for missing your party, no matter how stupid the reasoning she gives you is.

"y/n."

The simple sound of her voice is almost enough to get you to break. You're determined not to break down this time, though, and certainly not in front of her.

You take a deep breath before turning around to face her. Your eyes instantly fall on the badly wrapped present and the almost crumpled bouquet of flowers in her hands. Any other day, you would have found it cute.

It's hard to break your habit despite how upset you are and you find yourself scanning her for any clear or severe injuries.

It doesn't take you long to notice the marks on her neck. You assume they're bruises, that her messy hair and disheveled appearance are part of whatever trouble she ended up getting herself in tonight.

But then you look closer.

And suddenly the room feels far too small, the air too thick to let you breathe.

Kate instantly takes notice of what's stolen your attention, placing the flowers down before her free hand comes up to nervously rub at her neck. You're not a genius but you know all her tells by heart.

"You didn't," you say, your voice barely above a whisper but brimming with danger.\

"It's not- I didn't-" She cuts herself off with a sigh.

You know exactly what that means. She doesn't even have an excuse. No stupid explanation to make you feel better. If anything, that makes her guiltier.

Of what? You're not too sure. You just know your best friend was out getting laid when she was supposed to be here with you.

Your unspoken feelings for her only make her betrayal worse.

"You're fucking unbelievable, Kate."

You see a flash of hurt stain her usually bright eyes but you don't care. You can't. Because all of you've done since you met her is care and it's gotten you nothing but heartache.

"y/n."

The soft tone she uses tugs at your heartstrings and yet you force yourself to keep going. To walk away and put enough space between the two of you so you don't have to keep staring the truth right in the face.

Kate doesn't love you. Not the way you want her to. And even though you love her, you can't keep letting yourself get hurt like this.

Not anymore.

So, you walk away.

Unfortunately, you still live together which makes your plan to ignore her for at least a few days practically impossible. Maybe it's immature but the only thing you can do is stay in your room and avoid interacting with her as much as possible.

Avoiding her does little to soothe your hurt feelings, though, and hearing her pace outside your locked door like a scolded puppy makes things even harder. All you can do is remind yourself you already know what her excuses will be anyway so what's the point of letting her in just to be hurt again?

It's a good plan but it doesn't take into account how…persistent Kate can be.

You assume she'll end up doing something to catch your attention but you never once think she'll climb the fire escape and knock on your window.

That's exactly what she does, though, which leaves you pretty much unable to ignore her.

You think about it for a second but then your eyes meet hers and you get up before you can stop yourself.

It's stupid, you know that, but that knowledge doesn't stop you from opening your window. You don't let her in even though it's ridiculous to make her stay outside.

"Do you need something?" You ask.

"Yeah, to talk to you," she replies, her eyes nervously searching your face. "I need to apologize."

"You don't have to, you-"

"Yes, I do and you have to let me in." She seems just as surprised as you are by her words.

You momentarily think about shutting her out and yet somehow, for whatever stupid reason, you don't. You take a step back and allow her to climb in through your window like all those times before. At least this time she's not bleeding.

An awkward silence settles over both of you as she stands in the middle of your room. You regret not cleaning up a little before making your way to the window since now she's subjected to all your haphazardly thrown tissues and incredibly messy bed.

"What now?" You question, already fidgeting with your fingers while you wait for her to talk.

"Now…I tell you how sorry I am and how big of an idiot I am."

"Kate, we've been friends for years, I already know you're an idiot," you say with an eyeroll that holds way too much affection.

"True," she says with a chuckle. "No, I um…I really messed up but not in the way you think. I did miss your party but I…I didn't hook up with anyone. Not really, I-"

"You really don't have to explain this to me." You rush out, not at all wanting to hear those kinds of details from her.

"Yes, I do." She takes a step toward you and it takes all your restraint to not step away from her. "I don't want you to think I went out and slept with someone else on your birthday-"

"Kate," you try again. "You're an adult, you can do whatever you want."

"I want to do that with you!"

There's an edge of desperation to her voice that makes you pause. More than anything, her words confuse you.

"What are you talking about?"

A groan escapes her lips and before you know it, she's getting rid of the space between you and gently taking your face in her hands. She tilts your head until you're looking right at her and your breath gets caught in your throat from the proximity.

"I. Want. To. Be. With. You." Kate whispers every word into the small space between your lips. "I did get caught up on a stupid mission but I didn't sleep with anyone else. I just had to get creative and I took a page out of Natasha's book. I didn't think I'd end up with a massive hickey, though."

It's absolutely ridiculous.

It honestly borders on stupid.

So much so that you laugh.

You laugh until the weight you've been carrying for who knows how long falls off your shoulders.

Until finally, finally, you're able to lean in and kiss the girl of your dreams.

Kate may be an idiot who always gets herself in the worst kinds of troubles but…she's your idiot.

Finally.

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader/ .11 [Slight Nsfw]

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, ec project with Nickolas the transfer student, drunk sukuna shows up at the dorm(!?), a small makeout session, some sexual touching and mentions of grinding/humping at readers thighs, caring for this stressed out man-slut, ooc sukuna.

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 5.036k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n: hey guys! sorry for the delay ^^ i've been wanting to get some chapters drafted before posting them! ty sm for the patience i hope u enjoy and r ready for the upcoming drama between sukuna and y/n!

a/n 2: so so sooooo sorry for being three days later after saying i'd be posting right away!!>< I was with family and the wifi was being iffy the last few days. I couldn't access many of my socials and much less work on the final draft of the chapter!! i powered thro until i was satified and it's finally here! i hope you enjoy!!

chapter/idea cred to: @misslauravillanueva i needed to give credit for the help! i was struggling on what to do!><

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

“Achoo!”

“Ah, are you alright?” Geto’s cool tone echoed from the kitchen, his brow raised with a curious expression written on his face. “Coming down with something? I told you to relax from studying for a while–”

“It’s not that!” You huff, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ”I just sneezed. I don’t know why though..”

“Okay, relax. I’m not gonna get upset.”

With a pout, you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Bowl of mac and cheese with little hot dogs in hand and a Coke on the coffee table. Eyes returning back to the TV screen and watching the current crime show playing, listening to the crimes that the murderer committed as he was handed a death sentence. 

Sometimes, when I let my mind wander to Sukuna.. It feels like that.

The idea that he’s now stuck on your mind despite all the anger he had towards you. The almost strange obsession and addiction to the idea of him. While you’ve been repetitively trying to control these new emotions and thoughts, you couldn’t help it. Seeing Sukuna that day in Ec class all those days ago. Having to tutor him. Even dealing with his weird smirks and teasing.

..That kiss too..

“Your face is doing that thing again, Y/n,” Geto’s voice chirped out of nowhere, causing you to jolt in your spot. “So jumpy over a guy? You know therapy exists, right?”

Returning a rather poorly chosen burn, Geto stood from his spot on the couch and waved a hand at you. Grabbing his things and his shoes from the carpet near the door, he sent you another telling look.

“If you're this upset, just ask what's up. Seriously, seeing you get stressed over this is kinda.. sad.”

There was a stabbing pain in your chest. You knew.

“Good night to you too, Suguru,” You hum, leaning on your fist as the door closed with a click. Leaving you alone in the dormitory for a few moments.

Your thoughts clouding your headspace until you decided to go to bed. Unable to understand this dreadful lil thing people called love, unable to understand why Sukuna Ryomen had crawled his way into your heart just by being an ass.

Tomorrow is another day.. Right?

. . .

“Today we'll be picking partners for class projects!”

Eh?? Ehhhhh????

You blinked a few times at the announcement, looking down towards Toji as students began to groan and complain a little. Quickly these were silenced as Toji lifted a stack of papers and chuckled deeply in his husky voice.

“It's not my problem, just get them done. You have two weeks to do it, so get your partners. The class is uneven so be ready for one of y'all's groups to have an extra person. It's a self-pick topic type of thing so start discussing today or tomorrow your topic and go with it!”

Toji tapped the papers on his desk and sat, letting his tie loose as he started relaxing for the rest of the period.

“If you need suggestions for your topic, there's a list in here along with your presentation requirements. I expect all names and correct citations with these as well.”

You let out a small groan and rub your temple. Not only were you stressed, now you had to deal with this? Extra shifts at work couldn't save you from this type of annoyance. It's not that you hated group projects, it's just a small tick when half of them throw the work onto you.

Pros and cons. Pros– none. Cons– work was usually tossed onto you.

You stood from your desk and began making your way down the steps to grab a paper. A strange chill ran up your spine as you passed Sukuna’s. Sparing a glance over, your cheeks warmed almost immediately.

Some bits of hair were pinned back and a pen rested on an ear. His shirt had a few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black pants tight enough to have made a bakery spawn on the seat he sat upon. He looked really handsome, daring to battle even Toji’s good looks, and it was getting to you. 

What hit the nail in the coffin is when he just so happened to catch you ogling with your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth. His eyes sharpened at your expression as a smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

An almost playful yet teasing smile you weren't used to seeing on his face caught you off guard. It made your face hot, and your shame grow a few beats in that moment.

“Stop creeping” was basically what his face was saying.

Letting out a strained cough, you covered your face and made your way back up to your desk. Positive that his eyes had followed you all the way up the stairs before you sat in your spot. Hiding behind the paper and some random book you grabbed from your bag.

You couldn't be more obvious, could you?

While fellow students started to shift in their seats and partner up with friends and just random buddies from in the room, Sukuna was swarmed with a small audience of girls as he stood from his seat to also fetch a paper. The guys that sat around him gave him annoyed side-eyes and snorts as he absorbed the attention from all the women in the room. 

“Sukuna, do you wanna partner with me?” One asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and letting the blush on her cheeks show.

“Me too, we could all do it together!” Another spoke up, poking her button nose into their conversation. Her bright green eyes staring up at Sukuna with a needy gleam.

It makes you confused to an extent, making you press your brows together as you look to the side. Sukuna probably thought that's what you looked like every time you saw him. It makes your heart ache and head throb, another grand headache to your already upsetting day.

Just let your mind be normal for once in your life.

You begin to gather your things and part from the room, the hustle and bustle of the classroom quietly fading into the background. Letting out a relaxed sigh as the sight of your bed creeped into the corners of your mind– oh, how you wished to be relaxing in bed with your favorite stuffy.

“Hello, miss? Would you like to be my partner for the project?” A voice suddenly called from behind you, somewhat echoing throughout the quiet hallways. It startled you since you didn’t expect anyone to follow you out of the classroom asking such a thing, it piqued your interest.

Lifting your head, you come face to face with someone you didn’t know.

His dark hair was up in a bun with his undercut showing behind his pierced ears, a kind smile flashing behind yet another piercing on his lip. Tanned skin that seemed to glow like it was pampered with the best beauty products around, not a scar or pimple in sight. Cute dimples at the corners of his lips adding to his boyish charm while his honey eyes gleamed at you. It reminded you of Yuji in a sense, but this was not Yuji.

You’ve never seen this guy before– a really cute one at that.

“Hello,” you say, momentarily stunned at the stranger, letting your hand weakly wave. “Uhm, partner?”

There was an adorable chuckle that furthered your stunned silence before you heard a response. “Yes, I saw you walk out here alone and thought you might need one.”

You take in a deep breath, regaining your composure quickly and patting yourself down. “Ah, right. I actually don’t like having a partner, my past experiences have led me to conclude that they’re not the best option for a project. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can handle one on my own.”

“I can see why,” He starts, looking back at the classroom with the still clamoring students before returning his attention to you. “That horde in there was after one guy, they don’t care about this project. I was actually about to do the same as you when I saw my choices were so low.”

Rubbing a big calloused hand over his nape, the strangers’ almond eyes looked from the empty halls and to you, his smile sheepish. “Please? Don’t make me beg now.”

There was a small silence between you and the stranger as you considered walking off and letting him go with his original plan before the Economics class erupted with whines as Sukuna and a girl walked from inside. The color left your cheeks, seeing the girl’s arm wrapped tightly around Sukuna’s. Looking as if he was protecting her from the growing crowd of the class, engaging in an active conversation as they walked on by.

Your heart sank sharply, seeing Sukuna letting someone else into his circle. He used to be so cold, so annoyed with people when he was younger. Only letting you really hold him that close, giving you nuzzles of appreciation since he didn’t like to say it aloud.

Now, he gives you the cold shoulder and holds others that aren’t you close.

Without letting your head finish its last thought and your eyes still trained on the back of Sukuna’s head, you gave a nod and looked back at the stranger. “Sure. I’m Y/n L/n, by the way.”

“Really? That’s great!” He smiled, the warmth of his company lightening your mood sufficiently more than it was a few moments ago. “My name’s Nickolas Alveres, it’s nice to meet you, L/n.”

The both of you share a smile for a second before Nickolas nods down the hall, motioning for the both of you to head to your next classes. He doesn’t wait for you to join him, but you do anyway. Trying to make small talk with him as you try to get to know your partner, letting the smile on your lips stick.

While you wore a smile, someone else had a frown. A deep scowl, if you will. You didn’t feel it, but Sukuna’s partner saw it.

She raised a brow, cheeks tinted a slight color as she cast her gaze in the same direction. Seeing you close to another man, only escalating the befuddlement.

“What’s wrong, Sukuna?”

A disgruntled look was plastered all over said man’s face, his frown so prominent it was a waste of time to even attempt to hide it. A chasm of wrinkles forming on his forehead as his brows pressed together at the sight before him. Watching the way you and some kid walked side by side with a smile on your face, not a care in the world.

When did you get so chummy?

“It’s nothing.. Let’s go, Haru,” He said, not sparing a second to look back at you. With a huff, he pulled his work partner, Haru, with him to the nearby library to find a good subject for this project.

It’s what he wanted anyways.. right?

. . .

“Wait, wait.. He punched Gojo in the face?!” Nickolas laughed, holding his cup up to his lips quickly to cover his giggles and chuckles. His nose crinkled up as they continued despite his obvious resistance. “He must’ve been drunk too to get so defensive!! I thought he was just a jerk most of the time.”

“Usually he is,” You start, crossing your legs under the coffee table. Looking over some of the notebooks the both of you had sprawled out onto the wood to look for any good topics to talk about in the presentation. Quickly, you scribbled out one, taking a sip from your cup and looking back up to Nickolas. “Recently though, he’s been alright. Not as mean as he used to be, but not one-hundred percent rude and annoying.”

A calm silence filled the air as Nickolas rested his work in his lap, taking a moment to look from them to you. “Speaking of, how long have you known this guy? You talk about him like he’s an old friend.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards for a short second before you let your face relax. “He was. Not really interested in joining forces again recently.”

Nickolas nodded his head in understanding, eyes glazing over somewhat on what response to give. Seeing that the idea of this guy somehow hurt you, it got him concerned. Why bother letting him get to you so deeply if this is the result? It doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, Y/n,” He mustered after a short silence, placing his cup on the coffee table and letting his ring tap against the plastic. “If he’s still letting you be this close, even helping you care for a friend, that’s gotta be something.”

You nod numbly, knowing the obvious has been said too many times. Talk to him, ask him how he’s doing about the relationship, what does he want from you? The same three things that you always wanted to say when you were with him, but how. Other than tutoring, other than being near each other in class, you and Sukuna spent little to no time together.

All you remember about him is that he was the tough kid in school with home problems that liked to play tag and hide and seek. That he scared you with bugs and frogs while at the lake or near the Willow tree. The fond memories you shared with him couldn’t be the only factor that you had to use to judge what you wanted, you had to be around him more.

How was going to be the hardest puzzle to solve.

“Oh well,” Nickolas yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s about time i get headed to my dorm. I have an early class tomorrow. I’ll leave you my number so that we can plan meetings for the project!”

Jokes and laughter filled the room as you and your partner exchanged information when there was a loud commotion at the door. You glanced from Nickolas to the dorm door and let out a light hearted chuckle, waving your hands next to your head.

“Ah, I’ll go get that! Gather your things, okay?”

Nickolas nodded and turned to his open binder and mess of notebook paper splayed on the coffee table, humming to himself as you rushed over to the front door. Hair stood at attention when you opened that door, seeing a messed up man laying on the hallway floor. A big wine bottle squeezed tightly in his right hand, the other placed next to his head on the floor.

His voice came out in gentle hums of some random rock song, lyrics jumping out from his mouth every second or so in a drunken daze. His fluffy hair was messy and almost unrecognizable until you realized who it was.

It was Sukuna.

“Wh.. What are you doing here?” You shout, shocked at his arrival, but there was not really a response. Only his hand raising to wave his finger around to the hum of his song. “Sukuna, answer me!!”

“..rather be.. Than lonely..”

Letting out a sigh, you look back at Nickolas and see his confused face staring at the gap between you and the door down at Sukuna. He stood there ready to go with his bag strap on his shoulder and keys in hand, giving you quick glances for some semblance of an answer. You give a small shrug, looking back to the immobile man on the ground.

Gently, you kick at one of his legs to try and get something out of him. “Sukuna, get up!”

Not a single thing, just a grunt and a tussle before your eyes finally connect with glazed ones. Maroon pools that were foggy beyond belief, not having a thought behind them. Nickolas tilts his head to the side and shakes it, giving you a pat on the arm and a sheepish smile.

“I'll get out of your hair, Y/n. Good luck!”

You step out of the man’s way, looking down at the disgruntled Sukuna and give a weak chuckle. Parting ways with Nickolas for the evening and kneeling down to Sukuna and shaking his shoulder. “Sukuna, you’ll get sick, get up.”

“..Doesn’t matter,” Sukuna mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. “F’m sick, I’ll just be sick..”

“It does matter, now get up.”

You did your best to pull Sukuna up by his arm and into a sitting position, hooking the limp appendage over your shoulder and lifting him up onto his feet. It was a struggle since Sukuna was so heavy, but you managed. The stench of alcohol reeked from his breath and shirt, mixes of dirt and some stains that you didn’t feel the need to ask where they came from. 

Stumbling into your dormitory you freed the near empty beer bottle from Sukuna’s grasp and pulled the door close. He wasn’t giving much fight– probably due to the amount he drank– and just leaned his weight onto you. Mumbling to himself about things you weren’t going to pressure him into answering. Still, it made you wonder.

What the hell drove him to come to my place?

Surely, he wouldn’t mind answering that.

With a huff to your lips you plopped Sukuna’s heavy ass onto the couch and folded your arms. The beer bottle in your hand swirling around as you rotate your wrist ever so slightly, brow raising at Sukuna’s nearly asleep form. It was odd to see the big, strong and mean Sukuna Ryomen on his last leg from intoxication. 

Despite this, you found it cute.

“I’ll go get you some water and maybe a change of clothes,” You announce, tilting your head to see if that gauges a reaction. Sadly there was nothing but a huff and some finger taps on the couch’s cushions. Letting your arms fall to your side, you grunt and place the beer on the table. “Whatever, I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and some extra sheets from your bedroom before making your way back into the living room to Sukuna. A fresh set of clothing was provided, thanks to Geto’s many late night bang sessions with Shoko, and some cooling pads were placed next to Sukuna on the couch. He didn’t do much but glance at the items, turning his face away in– what you assumed– was a quiet protest.

Sukuna never acted this petty and spoiled before. What’s gotten into him?

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” Gently, you press your hands to his chest, earning a reaffirming nod and proceeding to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. 

It was strange to be in this position. On your knees, undressing the man you’ve pinned for for so long, only to be seeing this messy and unkempt side you didn’t like to imagine him being. The feelings in your chest that you wanted to put away were making your heart race once more, every glance you got to see from the mess you called Sukuna.

His hair made him resemble his brother more than anything else now, hanging over his sweaty forehead and tattoo. Arms hanging loosely at his sides, man spreading for all of the world to see. Shamefully, you enjoyed the calm attention. Even though it was unsightly, you liked getting to touch all over Sukuna’s body.

“There,” You mumble to yourself, having officially released Sukuna from his shirt. “N-Now, onto your..”

Trailing off, you look down at Sukuna’s pants. Swallowing thickly at the idea of pulling off his trousers, you took a deep breath. I’m never going to live this shame down!

Gently, you began to undo his belt. You face burning ever more as the air began to tense, wishing that anyone but you would be this bashful over something so silly. Still, regret hit you harder than the embarrassment or shame ever could.

Sukuna was watching you. Watching your hands slip the belt loose, pulling his button undone and pulling at his waistband. You tugged, unable to yank them down and free his lower half.

“Sukuna.. Can you lift your hips?” You ask in a soft voice, startled by the quick response. But what was it really, he was watching your every move. You felt like you were being examined in some office and not helping Sukuna undress. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Making haste of the situation, you pulled down the fabric of his trousers and grabbed the loose shorts you had found from earlier. Ignoring all thoughts of Sukuna and how perfect his legs looked, the thick black bands of his tattoos on the fat of his thigh. The way the bulge in his briefs was much a cause for distraction, even denying that it twitched once freed from it’s confines.

Yep, never happened.

“There, all better,” You sigh, satisfied. “Now that your ready for bed, I’m going to do the same.”

It took a few minutes, but you had completely reclothed Sukuna and he now looked more sleepy and ready for bed rather than drunk off his ass and about to black out on the couch. You had struggled to even get him to take a sip of water and sober up, but to no avail. You figured you’d have to try again tomorrow morning and explain the situation once he woke up in a confused fit.

Getting him comfortable on the couch too was another ordeal you didn’t think you’d go through, but you did. Tucking in the large male until he was all cozy and warm, safely resting his head on one of your spare pillows.

“I’ll see ya in the morning, Ryo,” You mumble, letting your mind wander for a moment and tracing the outline of one of his tattoos on his bicep. Feeling the muscle twitch under your touch momentarily.

“Mgh,” Sukuna muffled out, cheeks warm to the touch.

Letting out another sigh, you stand from your spot next to the couch. Only to be pulled back towards the culprit at hand, falling ass first next to his lap. Sukuna didn’t make a sound, just grasped onto your hips and pulled you in for a hug. His arms anchored around your lower stomach, pressing into the arch of your spine and forcing you to press against him as well.

His nose was pressed into the crook of your shoulder, but you continued to crusade for answers from the sudden affection. “AGH! Sukuna, that was highly uncalled for!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Answer me, dammit–!!”

“Who was that guy?”

You flinch, caught off guard. The clarity and conviction in Sukuna’s voice was strange, seeing as he had been stumbling and leaning into you for the last few moments. “Uhm, my Economics partner Nickolas. It shouldn’t matter, you need to sleep!”

“I don’t need sleep,” Sukuna grunts out, lifting himself off of the couch and trapping you underneath him. Using his big arms like a cage, eyes locking you in place with a vice on your heart. “What was he doin’ hanging here?”

“Sukuna, this is childish,” You start, ready to defend yourself for a confrontation. “He’s my class partner, you shouldn’t be upset over it.”

Wait.. why was he upset?

Previously, he had never seemed to give a flying fuck what you did or whom you did it with. What’s with the sudden change of heart? It made yours ache at the possibilities, wondering what could it be that made him so hostile all of the sudden over Nickolas.

“I barely know him anyways..”

“And you let him sit here on this couch?”

There was a small slap sound as skin met skin, Sukuna’s palm and fingers grasping your chin and cheeks. A gentle but firm squeeze sent shivers down your spine, your hand reaching up to try and pull Sukuna’s off but to no avail. His eyes scanned your face for anything, a sign.

Something. Anything that would make this ache in his chest stop.

“What is he to you, huh?” His voice came out rough, deep. Intimidating. 

It was scary, but a shudder was sent up your spine. A lustful and unneeded shudder, one that sent ideas to your brain. That made your mind wander, but you held them back. 

Even as Sukuna’s lips captured yours, as his teeth grazed and nibbled at your lower lip, your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his pink locks. You had to deny, because the Sukuna that was here wasn’t really him. It was a drunk and dissociated version of him, a side that you normally didn’t see. 

A side that he probably didn’t like showing.

“Did you let him do this, mh?” Sukuna muttered, pulling away from your mouth. A string of saliva connecting the both of you for a moment as your lungs fought for breath. Chest rising and falling heavily, your hands hold onto Sukuna’s arms, trying to find something to stabilize yourself in this mess of kisses.

“N-No, we just.. Talked about class–”

“Talked? About class? Me? You?”

Sukuna retreated his touch from your face and instead placed them on your thighs. Laying beside you on the couch, keeping you trapped against his chest and making sure to dress the blankets over you.

“Sukuna, seriously, this isn’t funny anymore,” You whimper, covering your face. How could you push this away? You’ve wanted nothing but to be closer to him, haven’t you?

Desired, pleaded. You wanted everything.. But this wasn’t the way.

Feeling Sukuna’s hands wrap around your waist, having his hot breath on your neck and shoulder as he rutted his hips against the fat of your ass. You felt utterly guilty, like trash. Wanting to crawl away from Sukuna and save him the little grace he had, to avoid giving him something to wake up and regret tomorrow.

“Y/n.. look at me.. Look at what you’ve done,” The man in question ordered, hooking your top leg over his elbow. Letting the bulge in his pants grow more and more, his voice becoming ragged and deep as he got harder and harder. “You’re making a mess of me, can’t you tell?”

You nod, wanting to pull away and sleep in your bed. But the desires in you only wanted you to fall deeper. The strings of your heart being plucked as Sukuna’s lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. Marking and sucking, lewd sucking sounds erupting from his lips as he made harsh hickeys form on the skin.

Mewl after moan escaped you, your pussy wet and slick under the confines of your panties and pajama bottoms. Sukuna could tell, releasing your leg from his hold and slowing his hips for a moment until his hand migrated to your front.

Grinding the flat surface of his palm against your clothed cunt, whispering naughty words into your ear that you had to drown out. Even if the wants in your belly wished for Sukuna to be there, to fill up your insides and make a mess. To be closer than he’s ever let you been for the last month or so, you had to stop this.

And you did, with much regret.

“Sukuna, stop,” You whimper, pulling Sukuna’s hand away from your body. Breaths coming out in baited huffs, you sat up. Not taking a moment to let yourself get lured back in, feeling Sukuna’s hand find your waist again as you resisted further.

“Stop what?” He mutters, annoyance in his voice. Laced with an emotion you wished to unhear. “Didn’t you want this too?”

“Not like this.” Cold, respectful. You had to be this way, to give Sukuna another chance. Letting him have his way now in such a drunken state, you wouldn’t be able to recover a good relationship. “If I was like anyone else, you’d be taken advantage of.”

Sukuna’s touch softened, his glazed eyes clearing for a moment as he looked at the back of your head. Seeing a shimmer of something on your cheek, his fingers trembled. He desired to reach up, to brush those tears away. It was against his very nature, his very being.

He didn’t like the idea of being all cuddly and cozy, being soft and vulnerable with someone. The idea of it made his stomach churn and made the urge to vomit impending. 

But, with you. Seeing those tears form, for his sake. He felt irritated with himself. He caused it. Him.

“I’m going to bed now,” You say, voice shaken up. “Get some water, sleep.”

You stood from your place on the sofa and walked over to the small hallway, entering your bedroom and letting out a shuddering exhale. A weight was now firmly sitting on your chest. It ached, it hurt, it burned.

Everything that pain felt like was exploding in your chest. Reaching up a hand to try and comfort yourself wasn’t worth the effort either as you slid down the wood of your bedroom door. Curling into a feeble position as the tears fell from your eyes, finally free after holding them the whole time.

What you wished you could do about the man on your couch.

. . .

a/n: y'all i literally have a crippling addiction to crime videos and all that shit it's just so interesting for no reason oml (crying inside) also sorry for the month long pause (i say sorry too much) i was creating new characters and working on ideas for the next few chapters!

Chapter Song Them: — Granite - Sleep Token (Lyrics)

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[highvern]

Casual

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

warnings:  toxic relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption, avoidant attachment, hoshi cries, sex but nothing graphic

Length: ~ 3.8k

Note: the ending is inspired by this post. happy bday to my boo, legally its still your bday in california. sorry i made you cry. thank u @wonustars for sitting through the dumpster fire this was

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f], Talk [a, f, s], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

In the past few weeks, something has been different between you and your fuck buddy.

He’s always been relatively excitable, thrilled by life and happy to be wherever you are. But there’s more smiling,  more touching, and more moments that feel like maybe you’re in a relationship you didn’t sign up for because now every time you see him it doesn’t automatically devolve into humping each other until your eyes cross and limbs go numb. 

Tonight is a prime example.

You happen to end up at the same bar (after he told you where he’d be with the optimism you’d show up, because you typically do). It’s early in the night, when pretending not to realize the other is just a few feet away on the opposite side of the room is still appropriate. Or you pretend while Soonyoung not so subtly follows your every move for the right moment to approach. 

You like to act as if it's a coincidence you’d even show up in the first place and that you aren’t wrapped around his finger. Soonyoung, ever indulgent, lets you. He realized after repeated brush-offs that you have to come to him. And you will in your own time; like a cat that will let you look but not touch until it decides to. Make that decision too soon and he’ll end up covered in scratches and alone. 

Your friends aren’t dumb to the charade. They know how you and Soonyoung work despite how overly complex you make it. They don’t push to ask questions, preferring to silently observe the back and forth when you two happen to be in public. Like they’re watching a nature documentary. Maybe they think they’re being subtle when they point out he’s sitting a few tables away or how they spotted him on the way back from the restroom with invisible question marks over their heads blaring ‘so what are you guys?’ 

There isn’t an answer. You and Soonyoung fuck. Sometimes you don’t; like when you were sick or when it's two in the morning and he swears he sleeps better when you’re there. Occasionally, when you feel extra generous, you let him take you out in public and hold your hand. Other times you pretend not to know he’s got his eyes on you from the moment you arrive at a party and go home alone with a handful of missed calls.

It’s…complicated.

So you sit at a table tucked in the corner and stir at the diluted contents of your drink while pointedly avoiding looking to your left where you know a pair of eager brown eyes are waiting to greet you.

“How long do we have to sit here until you go and talk to your lover boy?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismiss the very thought that anyone else is privy to the imaginary game of chess you’re playing against no one but yourself.

“Oh, really?” Lily snorts. “Because he’s been moony-eyed for the past twenty minutes and—”

“Shut up,” you snarl. 

You're under the microscope and there's nowhere to hide. Not at this table at least.

“Would it be so bad if you guys just dated? He likes you and you obviously—”

The end of that sentence rattles in your brain even as you stomp away, parting the crowd loitering at the ball. You scold the moments of weakness that make it obvious. 

It takes all your patience not to bodycheck the people stumbling in your way. Everyone’s packed in tight like sardines, at the mercy of the tide of bodies flowing to and fro. A brief part in the sea gets you to the counter. You barely take a breath before a familiar presence hovers at your shoulder.

“Come here often?” Soonyoung calls in your ear. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps blooming despite the heat.

“Is that the best you can do?” You tease, finding his gaze. “Really?”

He’s warm at your amusement, eyes bright with his own humor or maybe it's the shots you watched Seokmin coax him into from the corner of your eye as you walked through the door. “How about, let me buy your next drink?”

“See if you lead with that I think you’ll be much more successful.”

He snorts before flagging down a bartender and reciting both your orders. The last thing he needs right now is more booze but if things go as planned, he’ll be too distracted to even notice you sipping on the cup meant for him.

 The hand at the base of your spine is calming even in the chaos of the bar, his effort to keep you close as possible like you’d go anywhere. A soothing circle of his thumb burns across the sliver of bare skin below the hem of your shirt makes the world shrink down to just you two.

An easily established routine takes over. Soonyoung crowds you in, pushing you back into one of the stools and assuming the space between your legs. The length of his body locks you firmly in place. His eyes trace your mouth as he talks. Calculating if you’ll let him kiss you or if it’s too early to ask for that just yet.

“You look good.”

“Oh?” you ask with fake innocence. You know what you look like. Short skirt, tight top. Enough skin to make him drool and think about what you’re wearing underneath. Or what you aren’t, given your track record.

“Yeah.” A complete sentence. He’s too preoccupied staring at your bare legs to provide more context. Void of an ounce of shame, he traces the curve of your thigh obscenely without a care who might see and the conclusions they’ll make. 

It’s hot. Temperature wise. Warm hands you wish would dip between your thighs and play with what’s just out of view rather than stroke at the rough hem of your skirt. But Soonyoung isn’t one for public indecency. 

At least not that indecent.

You watch him watch you. The blushed tips of his ears give away exactly what he’s thinking. The memories of you, in the back of his Jeep wearing this very skirt, bouncing on his cock like you’d die without it just last weekend. Blowing his load as you teased him with the idea of cumming inside you without a condom. If he keeps staring then you’ll have no choice but to rush him into the bathroom for a quickie. But tonight, you want him to break first.

“Are you planning to do something about or—”

Your phone is buzzing before you get the chance to finish the thought. It’s probably just your friends giving a fair warning they’re heading out now that you no longer need them to serve as cover for the real reason you’re in a shitty bar on a Friday night. But the name on the screen is one you haven’t thought about in months.

Mingyu (tinder): back in town for the night, u free? [11:34PM]

“Who’s that?” 

You bristle at his accusatory tone, locking your phone and hiding it away. Soonyoung assesses with skeptical eyes, chin jutted like you’re under examination because he decided to snoop over your shoulder.  “What? No one.”

“Doesn’t seem like no one.”

“It’s none of your business.” You shoot back. He’s starting to piss you off.

The feeling is mutual if the hutch in his shoulders is anything to go by. “Sorry I’m confused why some dude is inviting you over at midnight.”

“Well, it’s a good thing it doesn’t matter if you’re confused because you aren’t my boyfriend.” You spit. 

Soonyoung recoils like you slapped the words into his cheek. Cold air floods in between you, filling the newly abandoned space now that he’s stepping back.  

“You’re right, I’m not.” He scoffs after a beat.” Sleep with whoever you want. I’m done.”

Soonyoung leaves you standing there without a second glance, melting into the crowd while you gape. 

Fuck you, you think after the initial shock wears away. The last thing you need is Soonyoung’s permission. He may be the guy you’ve fucked exclusively for the better half of six months but he doesn’t have a monopoly on your time just because you take your clothes off for him. 

Staring at Mingyu’s message, you fire off a response before slipping off the barstool and beelining for the door.

You: send me the address [11:46PM]

The cab ride is filled with Top 40 and the echoes of city noise. A few attempts at conversation fall flat before the driver leaves you alone to stew in silence. Fuming, you stare out the window as streetlights become nothing but streaks in the darkness. Your fingers tap the annoyance out onto leather interior.

Each stop light gives you more time to think about how Soonyoung isn’t your boyfriend. He isn’t your anything. At best he’s an easy fuck that strokes your ego. And even if he asked, which he hadn’t, you don’t do relationships. Commitment isn’t a part of the deal. He takes what you give and he doesn’t complain. At least, not until now.

It’s a casual arrangement for both of your benefit. If he concocted some grandiose illusion it could ever be something more then he’d swiftly come down from that cloud. 

Stubbornness may kill you but there’s a point to prove tonight. That you can do whatever you want, whenever, with whoever you see fit. 

You don’t even realize when the car stops outside a familiar apartment building. 

Mingyu (tinder): lmk when ur outside [12:19AM]

The facade of anger starts crumbling. 

You don’t want to fuck Mingyu. His name hasn’t been at the forefront of your mind in months. None of your old flings have. Even new guys at the bar were placeholders to be ignored after Soonyoung arrived with a dumb joke and too much confidence. 

Somehow, without you realizing, months flew by without an ounce of interest for any guy other than the one you abandoned in a bar. The one guy you’re pretty sure would give you the moon if you asked.

And you screwed it all up to prove a point.

“Sorry, I gave you the wrong address. Can you actually take me to…” you ramble, typing out your final response to someone who you should’ve left firmly in the past.

You: i cant [12:25AM]

After the message goes through, blocking Mingyu’s number is easier than you’d like to admit.

—

The clock ticks closer to the time for early rises to begin rousing when you start losing hope. The carpet outside Soonyoung’s apartment is disgusting but after the first hour, you braved sitting down over the worsening blisters from an impractical shoe choice. Butt numb and phone battery in the single digits, you search for the courage to commute back across town with a bruised ego.

In all the time you’ve spent on the hard ground, not one of his roommates has come home. 

He isn’t aware of your sudden change of heart so there's no reason he’d come rushing home. As far as he’s concerned you're bent in half in some old flames bed without a care for his feelings. Maybe this is how you punish yourself for pretending you’re capable of something like that. Pretending Soonyoung’s feelings haven’t flown to the top of your priorities since that fateful night in his room. Every time you go to his contact the wave of guilt threatens to crush you.

It’s another fifteen minutes before Soonyoung stumbles down the hallway. Alone. 

Even from a distance, evidence of the night after your departure is plain to see. His eyes are glassy and the stench of bar floor rolls off him. Soonyoung is a sentimental drunk but knowing you’re the reason for such a sorry state makes you want to sprint out the door into oncoming traffic.

You feel pathetic and small but he doesn’t even seem to realize you're sitting there as he trips over your legs with a mumbled ‘scuse me,’ which only makes that hole in your chest grow. But you can’t find a word to say. Not with the disappointment clear on his face. 

Disappointment because you were stubbornly refusing to let him in.

It was a mistake. Coming here, leaving the bar, going to the bar, pretending you could do any of this in the first place. Maybe if you stay still he won’t notice you and you can disappear forever once he’s inside. 

But whoever runs things has a vested interest in your love life.

Soonyoung drops his keys after failing to get them in the lock for the nth time. They bounce off the ground and skitter the few inches away where you mourn, gleaming next to your bare thigh. He finally seems to take notice of your presence.

“You’re here?” He teeters, bending at the waist to snatch up his keys and almost ends up head first through the wall. You take mercy and hand them to him instead.

He’s looking straight through you. To the parts you hide beneath snide comments and brush offs, the side that claims none of this is that serious. That he shouldn’t expect anything, that a relationship is so far out of the realm of

“I blocked his number.”

He freezes at the confession, tense around the shoulders like he isn’t even breathing.

It's all too much.

You rock up onto your feet, unbalanced as blood flow is restored to the lower half of your body. You’ve got to get out of here. Somewhere else, anywhere else. Where he isn’t looking at you like that. Halfway down the hall is where you finally hear him speak again.

“Really?” Soonyoung asks, voice flooded with disbelief and maybe something like wonder.

You don’t bother to turn around before answering. “Don’t make it weird.”

More silence. Your shuddering breath and his footsteps fill the hallway. He’s at your back, a hand ghosting along your elbow. “How long have you been here?”

You really don’t want to answer but he needs to hear it. He needs to hear how much you care. Even if it’s scary. 

“Since I left the bar.”

“Don’t leave,” he beckons. 

It sounds like a thank you. Thank you for… not fucking some guy when you could’ve? Thank you for picking him even if you can’t say it out loud? He knows it's a lot, even drunk out of his mind. One day you’ll have to tell him you’d pick him over anything but tonight carries more than you can handle already.

Your hand finds his. A tight grip, sweaty palms not even a consideration because the contact lifts some of the invisible weight off your shoulders.

He ushers you inside, down the hall to his room. In the silent darkness of the apartment, his hands stay on you. Like if for even a second you two aren’t touching you’ll float away. Fingers laced tight as you shyly shuffle behind him.

Your clothes fall to the ground. Not in the rushed heat of usual encounters, but in a desperate need to feel one another: skin on skin. 

Naked in bed, you stake claim to his lap, lost against what comes next. This is usually the easiest part. You know how sex works. But his mouth burns along your palm, savoring the warmth with a long kiss that scratches at your throat. You shake, breath stuttering. Another kiss to your palm, lips gliding across your wrist, your elbow, the curve of your shoulder. Each webs another crack.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper as the dam begins to break.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, voice shaking. 

“You thought I didn’t pick you,” you whimper again, tears welling because you’re embarrassed. Both from how you acted and how you’re crying in the first place. But it feels cathartic. Letting him see the parts no one else gets to witness. 

“A-and I let you.”

“You’re here now. That’s all I care about.”

Somehow he manages to pull you into a tighter hold, crushing your ribs but you don’t need oxygen. You need Soonyoung. You settle in the cradle of his thighs, legs wrapped around his waist and arms locked across his shoulder.

He doesn’t offer a joke to cut the tension. He doesn’t try to play a simpering fool just to see you smile. Soonyoung tangles you in his arms and doesn’t ease up even when you wiggle for more comfort.

When you kiss him, he kisses back. Your mouth opens when he nudges his tongue at the seam of your lips. Arching into his palms at the curve of your spine, you moan as he flips you over and dips under the covers. Your thighs will be bruised come morning but it’s a welcome thought because that means there’s proof of Soonyoung’s claim on you; one you’ve been too stubborn to acknowledge. 

Each stroke of his tongue is another nail in the coffin. Vibrations cue you in that he’s speaking but all you can make out is the break of Soonyoung’s voice when he chants ‘mine,’ into your skin. You refuse to let go of his hand the entire time, while you writhe and shake, brain melting until you shatter with a cry. His fingers stayed interlocked on top of your stomach as your nails bite crescents into the skin. Another reminder that will fade but you look good on him for right now. It’s enough for right now.

His mouth tastes of you when you finally coax him back into another kiss. You lick across his tongue like you could suck away his breath if you tried. 

You fuck him like that. Back in his lap, chest to chest, panting into each other’s mouth in a crude kiss because even an inch of space between your bodies is too much. Not because either of you are horny and need release. It’s a different type of sex you’ve never been familiar with. Closer. Needier.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper again.

“Don’t—fuck—don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” He doesn’t sound sure of it. Maybe you’ll have to talk about what this means later, without the safety of a dark room.

The next apology dies at the tip of your tongue. Focused on nothing but the swell between your thighs, his fingers strumming you into another orgasm you’re unprepared for.

“Soonyoung.” You vibrate into the next wave, pinching tight at his shoulders until his lips find your neck.

You cradle his face between your palms, kissing away whatever worries linger. He doesn't say anything as he spills into the condom; silently refusing let go for what feels like hours, catching your breaths until he slouches back into the mattress and your weight follows.

“I didn’t mean it,” you confess. Your fingers busy etching across the jut muscle along his neck, something to take the focus off how awful you feel.

“Okay…” Soonyoung traces the dip between your shoulder blades; a simple touch leaving you on edge. “What did you mean then?”

“I don’t want…that.” 

“Want what?” His fingers flex. There’s an unusual level of patience from him tonight but rather than annoyance, you’re thankful. You wouldn’t say half the things you should if Soonyoung wasn’t here to ask for them.

“To sleep with other guys.” It’s half of the truth. The more important half, the part lodged in your throat and refusing to come out, is that you don’t want to lose him. And you’ll do what it takes not to let that happen. But you don’t elaborate on that thought.

“Good.” He smiles against your temple. “I don’t want to sleep with other guys either.”

A weak joke but it’s a start back towards normal. Soonyoung might just understand these feelings more than you think. Thank God someone does.

You both pretend to fall asleep after that, silently lingering in the liminal space between dreams and consciousness. Your cheek on his chest, the beat of his heart lulling your own down from an anxious rush. His arms a cocoon from whatever waits on the other side of daylight for you two to figure out.

Together.

Strips of sun slowly brighten between the slats of the blinds. A signal that it’s time to test whatever happened in the last few hours under the daylight.

“Wanna get breakfast?” Soonyoung asks, trailing gentle pecks across your bare shoulder.

“Waffles sound good.”

“Waffles it is.”

In the bright lights of the diner, your head throbs. Half from the hangover threatening to tie your stomach in knots and the other half from crying. Your eyes are still puffy, throat sore from such an emotional display in the privacy of Soonyoung’s room.

Soonyoung sits across the table, fingers tangled with yours on top for everyone to see. A proud declaration you fight not to shy away from. Even as he digs into his food he doesn’t stop tracing the back of your thumb with his own. Second nature. You should let him do it more often. It’s a nice feeling.

Seeing couples constantly touching in public before was something you watched with disgust. Except now you get it. Because despite the rational knowledge that you’d certainly be fine if he let go, there's also the feeling that you’d dissolve in the wind if he even considered the idea.

You’ve picked apart your plate, remains of decimated waffles and eggs pushed across the booth for his consumption. Soonyoung fumbles with the shaker and douses the scrambled yellows in mountainous trails of salt. He glances up at you, cheeks rounded in shock like you’d be able to help him. Biting back a conspiratory smile, you start shoveling the mess into a napkin.

Soonyoung stares, silent as you impale a slice of strawberry on the end of your fork and pop it into your mouth. It’s salty too but you wash it away with a swig of cheap coffee.

“What?” you ask. 

He answers with a peck to the back of your hand, diving into the more edible scraps that escaped his mess as if none of it happened in the first place.

In a sudden moment of clarity, a longing rooted deep in your chest rears its head. You don’t know what love feels like but maybe this is the start of it.

Sitting in a shitty dinner, wearing his clothes, while Soonyoung laughs at some joke you don’t catch because you’re too busy trying to find your breath. It’s good though. Exciting.

But the moment passes with a beat of your heart. It’s just you and him. He’s your something, you the same for him.

And that’s enough right now.

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