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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder.

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence.

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six.

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard.

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you.

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him?

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs.

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better.

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop.

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines.

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his.

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone.

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction.

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru.

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower.

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you.

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you.

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends.

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted.

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four.

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new.

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome.

scarily handsome, in fact.

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend.

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen.

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk.

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused.

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle.

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him.

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it.

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it.

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information.

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips.

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble.

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples.

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb.

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign.

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up.

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal.

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale.

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face.

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him.

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night.

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length.

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you.

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him.

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans.

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness.

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you.

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever.

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin.

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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foggysilverfeathers · 3 months

Text

Fake HC 10 dashboard mayhaps??

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☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

Reminder to love yourself! Smell the trees! Everything will be okay in the end 😊 ☀️

☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

nvm gem ran out of pickles im depressed again

🐟 gemstone Follow

I RESTOCKED THIS MORNING HOW HAVE YOU ALREADY SOLD ME OUT

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1,930 notes

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

day 126 without a mending book

27 notes

🚂 scars-axasqottles Follow

uM hey @.hpo-official could i ask why you havent' received my messages?/? Every calsl Ive made just puts me on holdd

⬜️ hpo-official-948204deactivated

Sorry about that, sir. Admin error. I'll speak to my manager.

🚂 scars-axasqottles Follow

...hELLO?

🌸 joel-beans Follow

lmao they deactivated what a loser

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

Remember there's a person behind every poor worker! I see you bullies in the notes

🐟 gemstone Follow

@/mending-book-fanatic is a hermit permit office spy confirmed??

2,441 notes

🌸 joel-beans Follow

Guys everyone agrees that purpur is cheap and beautiful and godlike and everyone should go buy it right now this second *sweats*

🌲 supreme-judge-bd Follow

I feel like I'm missing something...

🌸 joel-beans Follow

SHE HAS EYES EVERYWHERE BDUBS

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Joel!

🌸 joel-beans Follow

If I don’t respond within the hour assume she got me

133 notes

🎩 symmetrical-minister Follow

anyone know a good shop for ethically-sourced wood?? i normally shop at big wood but ive heard things about a mafia :/

🪓 big-salmon Follow

That is absolutely NOT true!! If anything you should be targeting the crypto scheme at Big Wood,,

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

aaaand this is why you should never trust businessmen in red suits

🪓 big-salmon Follow

says the one compensating with a massive HOURGLASS of all things

🐍 puppet-master Follow

Actually @.big-salmon Xisuma_voyd made a really well-explained video here going into detail about all of the shady elements of Big Wood, it's worth a watch.

🐟 gemstone Follow

To answer the original question OP here are some safer (privately owned!) shops :)

Gem's Moss Shop (azaleas for sale which can be bonemealed)

Bdub's Bamboo Shop (bamboo wood is a good eco-friendly alternative to your typical spruce or oak)

The Purr-purr bus (if you're okay with having slightly more exotic trees, from the End)

Hope this helped! <3

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

Why would you pay diamonds for less when you could just pay a few grains of sand for the best quality wood in the shopping district? You people confuse me

🌲 supreme-judge-bd Follow

actually the Purr-purr bus isn't ethical at all!! ive heard they blackmail people into giving them sails!!!

🐟 gemstone Follow

*sales

🌲 supreme-judge-bd Follow

SHUDDUP

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2,750 notes

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

day 131 without a mending book

34 notes

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

day 164 without a mending book

🐍 puppet-master Follow

Grian you know you can get free mending books at the cat cafe right

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it's not the same

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

I need to be able to smell the breath of the sea between its sodden pages

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continue along the same path and you'll soon be facing villager unions

2,316 notes

🔥 tongo-tak Follow

Friendly reminder that not everyone wakes up at 2am, so please tag your Pearldle spoilers for at least a few hours!!

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skill issue tbh

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🇸🇪 death2diorite85 Follow

hallo how flirt with pretty girl time sensitive question

🌺 git-gorgeous Follow

sell them something

🔥 tongo-tak Follow

bribe diamonds

🐍 puppet-master Follow

kill them

🇸🇪 death2diorite85 Follow

okay will do!!!!

🇸🇪 death2diorite85 Follow

wait

2,989 notes

🐍 puppet-master Follow

Happy pride month to lgbtqia+ people of all ages, genders and sexualities, you're all so valid and so loved <3 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

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⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

I'm making a rainbow beacon for pride, come look for it! i'll be with it by my husband @ renthedog's hole all week

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*HOLE

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*HOME

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WAIT I ACCIDENTALLY TAGGED IT

🐾 renthedog Follow

um.

2,655 notes

🌸 joel-beans Follow

etho is just kakashi on maple syrup send post

🌸 joel-beans Follow

almost forgot to add important additional difference! etho is also obsessed with me

1,113 notes

#ravenrambles #hermitcraft #hermitblr #fake dashboard #tw unreality #unreality #dashboard simulator #fake posts

3K notes · View notes

starsenha · 13 days

Text

WET DREAMS / L.H

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x roommate!dom!heeseung

Genre ◊ SMUT, roommates to ???

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), cursing, neck kisses, nipple play, petnames, praising, dirty talk, fingering, kind of needy!hee, oral (f. receiving), bigdick!hee, unprotected sex (wrap it up ppl), rough

Word count ◊ 7,4k

Summary ◊ when heeseung moved in with you, Jake's friend, he knew it was a bad idea the moment he saw you for the first time because you were exactly his type. But it became even worse when he started making wet dreams about you.

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You were just another broke college student trying to survive the semester when your old roommate decided to move out, leaving you with a hefty rent and an empty room. Desperate for a new roommate, you posted an ad on your school's website. Enter Heeseung, a friend of Jake's – and since Jake was a solid guy, you figured Heeseung would be too. From the moment he moved in, it was clear this was going to be interesting. Heeseung was charming and easy to get along with, but there was one tiny problem: you were exactly his type. Beautiful, sexy, teasing, playful, but also cute and funny. After just a week, the tension between you two was undeniable. It would be a lie to say you didn't feel the same. The sparks were real, and living together was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

But everything became weird after that night: the night he had his first sex dream about you.

Heeseung lounged on the couch, a textbook open in his lap, though his mind was miles away. The apartment was quiet except for the occasional creak and hum from the old pipes. Heeseung was drifting off, and before he knew it, he was deep in a dream.

In his dream, the living room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a few strategically placed lamps. He heard the soft patter of your bare feet on the hardwood floor before he saw you. You were wearing nothing but his oversized shirt, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair was tousled, and there was a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

"Hey," you purred, leaning against the armrest of the couch. "Whatcha doing?"

Heeseung's breath hitched as he looked up at you, his mouth suddenly dry. "Just… studying," he managed to say, though his voice was thick with desire.

You sauntered closer, a playful smirk on your lips. "Mind if I join you?" Without waiting for a reply, you slid onto the couch, your leg brushing against his. Heeseung's pulse quickened as you leaned in, your lips so close to his ear that he could feel your warm breath.

"You know," you whispered, "I've noticed the way you look at me."

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You chuckled softly, your hand resting on his thigh, dangerously close to the edge of his shorts. "Oh, I think you do." Your fingers danced lightly over the fabric, teasing him. "I see the way your eyes linger."

His resolve crumbled, and he turned to face you, his hand cupping your cheek. "You're driving me crazy," he confessed, his voice a low growl.

"Good," you replied, your eyes dark with want. "Because I've been wanting you too."

He crashed his lips against yours, a hungry, desperate kiss that spoke of all the pent-up desire between you. You moaned into his mouth, your body pressing against his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you.

Heeseung's hands roamed over your body, slipping under the shirt to feel the smooth skin beneath. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. The air was thick with the scent of arousal, and Heeseung was lost in the sensation of you.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding up to cup your breast.

You whimpered, your back arching as you pushed into his hand. "I want you, Hee. I want you to take me right here."

Heeseung growled in response, his hand slipping between your thighs to find you wet and ready. He stroked you lightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he muttered, his voice rough with need.

"Only for you," you whispered, your hips bucking against his hand.

With a low groan, Heeseung positioned himself over you, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you. He entered you slowly, savoring the way you stretched around him, your moans music to his ears. "God, you feel so good," he breathed, his forehead resting against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Faster, Heeseung," you begged. "I need you."

Heeseung complied, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The couch creaked beneath you, but he didn't care. All that mattered was how delicious and incredible you felt around him. Your nails scratched down his back, leaving marks that would linger long after.

"You're fucking mine," Heeseung growled, his pace relentless. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your body trembling as you neared the edge. "Only yours."

With a final, powerful thrust, Heeseung sent you spiraling into bliss, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. He followed soon after, his release mingling with yours as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard.

Heeseung jolted awake, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His body was slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs. He groaned softly, feeling the unmistakable wetness in his shorts. He just came in his dream. His mind raced, the vivid images of you still fresh, your breathy moans echoing in his ears. He covered his face with his hands, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. "God, what's wrong with me?" he muttered to himself. "She's my roommate." Heeseung sat up, the room dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the blinds. He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering arousal. But as he glanced at the closed door of your bedroom, he knew resisting his feelings for you was going to be harder than ever.

The next morning, Heeseung reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, the remnants of his dream still clinging to the edges of his mind. He took a deep breath, trying to push it all aside, and headed toward the kitchen, hoping a cup of coffee might clear his head.

As he turned the corner, the scent of something delicious hit him, and he saw you standing by the stove, humming softly as you flipped pancakes. You were wearing an oversized shirt that fell just below your thighs, the fabric worn and soft, clearly not yours. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was probably Jake's shirt. The thought made him gulp, his throat suddenly dry as the dream came rushing back in vivid detail.

You turned when you heard him enter, your face lighting up with a smile that made his heart do a somersault. “Good morning, Hee,” you chirped, your voice sweet and playful as always. “I’m making breakfast! I hope you’re hungry.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool as he forced a smile. “Yeah… morning,” he mumbled, his voice embarrassingly shaky. He couldn’t meet your eyes, afraid that you’d somehow see right through him and know exactly what had been running through his mind all night.

You tilted your head slightly, noticing his unusual shyness. “Are you okay? You seem… off,” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Heeseung stiffened under your touch, his pulse quickening as the warmth of your fingers seeped through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m fine, just… didn’t sleep well,” he lied, hoping you wouldn’t press further.

You gave him a soft smile, squeezing his arm lightly before letting go. “Well, breakfast will help, I promise,” you said, gesturing to the pancakes with a grin. “And coffee’s ready too.”

Heeseung finally managed to meet your eyes, the sincerity and care in your gaze making his guilt twist even tighter in his chest. “Y-you didn’t have to, really,” he stammered, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee, hoping the familiar routine would steady his nerves.

“I wanted to,” you replied simply, your voice warm and kind. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I figured you could use a little pampering, seungie,” you added, using the nickname you’d given him that always seemed to melt his defenses a little.

Heeseung took a sip of the coffee, trying to hide his flushed cheeks behind the mug. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, the words half muffled by the rim of the cup.

You laughed softly, the sound light and cheerful, easing some of the tension in the room. “You deserve it,” you teased, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully. “Besides, it’s fun spoiling you a little.”

Heeseung’s heart raced at the casual affection in your touch, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you were doing to him. “Th-thanks,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as he sat down at the small kitchen table.

You joined him a moment later, sliding a plate of perfectly golden pancakes in front of him. “Eat up, Hee,” you said, sitting across from him with your own plate. “And don’t think too much today, okay? Just relax.”

Heeseung nodded, but as he cut into the pancakes, his mind was anything but relaxed. The sight of you in that oversized shirt, the smell of the warm breakfast you’d made just for him, and the way you called him “Hee” so sweetly—all of it was making it impossible to forget the dream.

He desperately needed a distraction. Anything to keep his mind from wandering back to the dream that was now seared into his memory. As you dug into your pancakes, he forced himself to speak, his voice a bit too loud as he asked, “So, um, how are your classes going?”

You looked up at him with a smile, happy to share. “Pretty good, actually! I’ve got this new project for my psychology class that I’m really excited about. We’re studying—”

But Heeseung barely heard a word. His eyes kept drifting to the way your shirt clung to your body, the soft curve of your waist, the smooth skin of your legs peeking out from under the hem. Every time you shifted in your seat, his thoughts betrayed him, flashing back to the way you felt in his dream, warm and soft beneath him. He could almost feel the ghost of your touch, the way you whispered his name in that breathy, needy tone.

“—and so I think I might need to interview a few people on campus,” you continued, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m really looking forward to—Hee? Are you even listening?”

He blinked, realizing too late that he’d been caught staring. His cheeks flushed, and he quickly tore his gaze away, focusing on his plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Y-yeah, sorry, just… zoned out for a second,” he stammered, trying to play it off, but his voice betrayed him.

You smirked, sensing something was off but not quite sure what. “Uh-huh, sure you did,” you teased, leaning in a bit closer. “What’s up with you this morning? You’re acting kinda weird.”

“N-nothing’s up!” Heeseung blurted out a little too quickly, his pulse spiking as he forced a shaky laugh. “Just tired, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but you decided to let it slide. “Okay, if you say so, Seungie,” you said, still smiling but with a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “But you know, if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me.”

Heeseung nodded quickly, trying to avoid your gaze as he took another bite of pancakes, barely tasting them. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” he muttered, though his thoughts were spiraling again. He could feel your eyes on him, and when he glanced up, the sight of you, all sweet and concerned, sent a jolt of heat through him.

His eyes betrayed him, lingering on your lips, imagining how they had felt against his in the dream. He was falling back into that dangerous territory again, and his body reacted almost instantly. He felt the blood rushing south, his breath hitching as he realized he was getting hard just from looking at you.

Panic set in, and he knew he had to get out of there before you noticed. “I-I gotta go to class,” he stuttered suddenly, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “Don’t want to be late!”

You blinked in surprise at his abruptness. “But, Hee, it’s only 8:30. Your first class isn’t until—”

“I need to, uh, review some notes!” he interrupted, stumbling over his words as he stood up, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Before you could say anything else, he turned on his heel and practically fled the kitchen, his face burning with embarrassment. You watched him retreat to his room, a little confused by his behavior but deciding not to pry. “Okay, then…” you muttered to yourself, shrugging it off as one of those weird morning moods.

As Heeseung shut the door to his room behind him, he leaned against it, exhaling sharply. His heart was pounding, and he cursed under his breath. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. But deep down, he knew the answer. It wasn’t just the dream—it was everything about you. And the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they seemed to become.

The entire morning, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting back to you. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his classes, his mind kept replaying scenes from his dream, the way your body had felt beneath his, the sound of your voice whispering his name in that sexy, sultry voice. He just couldn't you out of his head and that was driving him crazy.

By lunchtime, he was a mess of pent-up frustration and confusion. He had barely touched his breakfast, and the thought of seeing you again made his stomach twist with a mix of guilt and desire. So when Jake texted him, suggesting they grab lunch together, Heeseung jumped at the chance to get out of the apartment, hoping that his friend could help take his mind off things.

They met up at a small café near campus, Jake already waiting at a table with his usual easygoing smile. “Yo, Hee! Over here!” Jake called out, waving him over.

Heeseung managed a weak smile as he sat down, trying to seem normal. But Jake was too observant, and the moment Heeseung dropped into the chair with a heavy sigh, Jake’s smile faltered slightly. “You okay, man? You look like shit.”

“I’m fine,” Heeseung lied, picking up the menu and pretending to scan it. But his hands were a little shaky, and Jake wasn’t buying it.

Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Uh-huh, sure you are. What’s going on?”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing, really,” he insisted, but his voice lacked conviction.

Jake grinned, sensing that his friend was hiding something. “Come on, man. You can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Let me guess… you had one of those dreams, didn’t you?”

Heeseung froze, his eyes widening as he looked up at Jake, who burst into laughter at his reaction. “I knew it! Dude, you’ve got ‘I had a sex dream’ written all over your face!”

Heeseung groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Seriously, Jake? Can you not?”

The younger chuckled, leaning in closer. “Oh, come on! You can tell me! Who was it with? Someone from class? Maybe that cute barista at the coffee shop near your place?”

His face burned with embarrassment. He shook his head, hoping Jake would just drop it, but his friend was relentless.

“No way, man. You’ve gotta tell me now,” Jake teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re not getting out of this one. I won’t judge, promise. Unless it was, like, a teacher or something, then maybe I’ll judge a little.”

Heeseung squirmed in his seat, trying to come up with an excuse, but Jake was too good at this. Finally, he gave up, knowing that Jake wouldn’t stop until he got an answer. “Fine, okay! It was… it was with her,” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

Jake blinked in surprise, his grin faltering as he processed what Heeseung had said. “Wait… with who?”

Heeseung exhaled deeply, his heart racing. “With her… you know, my roommate.”

For a moment, Jake just stared at him, and then a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. “No way. You had a sex dream about yn?”

Heeseung buried his face in his hands, his embarrassment reaching new heights. “Yeah, okay? I did. And now I can’t even look at her without… i don't know, thinking about it.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, dude. That’s intense. No wonder you’re all messed up this morning.”

Heeseung groaned again, feeling like he wanted to disappear under the table. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Jake. Every time I see her, I just… I remember how it felt, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m either embarrassed as hell or… or horny or something, and I don’t know what to do.”

Jake took a sip of his drink, clearly enjoying Heeseung’s misery a little too much. “Well, you know what they say,” Jake said, leaning back with a casual shrug. “You’ve got to fuck her to get it out of your system.”

Heeseung choked on his water, sputtering as he set the glass down with a clatter. “W-what? Jake, are you serious?”

Jake grinned, shrugging again. “Hey, I’m just saying. Sometimes the best way to stop obsessing over something is to just… do it. Maybe it’s your brain’s way of telling you that you need to, you know, make a move.”

Heeseung’s face was practically glowing red at this point, and he could barely meet Jake’s eyes. “I can’t just… I mean, we’re roommates! And it’s not like she feels the same way.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, giving Heeseung a knowing look. “You sure about that? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, man. She’s always so playful with you, always teasing. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to make the first move.”

Heeseung shook his head, his mind spinning. “I don’t know, man. It’s just… it’s complicated. And I don’t want to mess things up between us.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening a bit. “I get it. But you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. If you really can’t handle it, maybe you need to talk to her. Or, you know, find a way to cool off before you drive yourself completely insane.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… maybe you’re right,” he admitted, though the thought of actually doing anything about it made him nervous as hell.

Jake chuckled, giving him a pat on the back. “Whatever you do, just remember I’m here to help, even if it’s just to give you shit about it later.”

Heeseung managed a small smile, grateful for Jake’s support despite the teasing. But as they finished their lunch, he couldn’t shake the lingering tension inside him, knowing that sooner or later, he’d have to face the feelings he was trying so hard to ignore.

The day wore on and he just couldn’t get Jake’s advice out of his head. The idea of just taking the plunge, of letting himself have what he so desperately wanted, seemed almost logical in his mind, twisted as it was with frustration and desire. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave in and finally fuck you, he could finally get you out of his system and things would go back to normal. But every time he even thought about it, an overwhelming sense of dread and guilt would wash over him.

The next few days were torture. Every time Heeseung saw you, you were just so effortlessly hot and beautiful, it made his resolve crumble. Like when you walked around the apartment in those tiny shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves perfectly, or when you’d smile at him, that playful, teasing glint in your eyes that drove him crazy. He couldn’t bring himself to make a move, not when the thought of losing your friendship or making things awkward between you weighed heavily on him.

So, instead of facing his feelings, Heeseung did what he thought was the next best thing—he avoided you like the plague.

Whenever he heard you coming down the hallway, he’d quickly retreat to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. If you were in the kitchen, he’d grab a snack later, waiting until you left. If you sat on the couch to watch TV, he’d suddenly remember something he had to do in his room. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

You, of course, noticed almost immediately. The first time you called out to him as you walked into the living room, he barely acknowledged you, muttering a quick “hey” before disappearing into his room. You frowned, staring after him with confusion etched on your face.

At first, you thought maybe he was just busy with schoolwork, but when it happened again and again, you started to worry. Heeseung wasn’t the type to just ignore you. You two had always been close, laughing and joking around, but now it felt like there was a wall between you that hadn’t been there before.

One evening, after another day of dodging you, you finally cornered him. Heeseung had just come out of the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower, when you caught him in the hallway.

“Hee, what’s going on with you?” you asked, your tone a mix of concern and frustration.

Heeseung froze, his hand still on the doorknob of his bedroom. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered, not daring to look at you.

“You know exactly what I mean,” you pressed, crossing your arms as you took a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now. Did I do something to upset you?”

He finally looked at you then, and the sight of your worried expression made his heart ache. “No, you didn’t do anything,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not you, it’s… it’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That’s the oldest excuse in the fucking book, Heeseung. Seriously, what’s going on? We used to hang out all the time, and now it’s like you can’t stand to be around me or something.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say that would make sense. "Look, can we talk about it later? I'm really tired right now," he started making his way to the kitchen.

“No, don't you run away from me, Lee Heeseung,” you called after him, your voice tinged with anger as you followed him into the kitchen. “I’m done with the vague answers and the weird behavior. I want to know what’s really going on!”

Heeseung stopped in his tracks, his hand gripping the counter's edge as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I told you, it’s nothing; I'm just tired,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

“Tired? Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?” You stepped closer, your frustration boiling over. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, acting like I’m some kind of stranger, and now you’re telling me it’s ‘nothing’? What the fuck?”

Heeseung turned around to face you, his jaw clenched as he tried to find the right words, but they kept slipping away. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I just… I can’t…,” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You can’t what?” you pressed, your patience running thin. “What’s so horrible that you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore?”

Heeseung’s frustration finally reached its breaking point. The tension, the guilt, the overwhelming desire—it all came crashing down at once. “I’ve been avoiding you because every single time I lay my fucking eyes on you, I just want to fuck your brains out!” he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process what he had just said. Heeseung immediately regretted the outburst, the rawness of his confession hanging in the air like a storm cloud. He sighed deeply, cursing under his breath as he ran both hands through his hair, looking anywhere but at you.

“Shit… I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he muttered, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and regret. “It’s just… it’s been driving me crazy. I had this dream, and it was so real, and ever since then, I can’t stop thinking about you like that.”

You finally found your voice, though it was tinged with disbelief. “You’ve been avoiding me, acting like I don’t exist, just because you had a sex dream about me?”

Heeseung nodded, his shoulders slumping as he braced himself for whatever you might say next. “Yeah… I know it sounds messed up, but it’s true. And every time I see you, it just makes it worse. I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but I ended up doing exactly that.”

You let out a laugh, but it was devoid of humor, more of an expression of sheer incredulity. “So let me get this straight,” you said slowly, needing to confirm you weren’t misunderstanding. “You’ve been avoiding me, treating me like I’ve got the plague, all because you want to fuck me?”

Heeseung winced at your bluntness, but he couldn’t deny it. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to you. I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You shook your head, your emotions a chaotic mix of anger, frustration, and something else that you hadn’t fully processed yet. “You know, hee, you could’ve just asked,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Heeseung looked up at you, shocked, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. “Wait, what?”

“You could’ve just asked me,” you repeated, crossing your arms and looking him dead in the eye. “And I wouldn’t have said no.”

For a moment, Heeseung just stared at you, his mind struggling to comprehend what you were saying. “You’re kidding… right?”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, your tone steady and serious. “You’ve been making things weird all by yourself when you didn’t have to. If you’d just been upfront with me instead of avoiding me, we could’ve dealt with this a lot sooner.”

Heeseung was at a loss for words. The idea that you might actually want him too had never seriously crossed his mind, not like this. “I… I didn’t think…” he started, then trailed off, still trying to wrap his head around it.

You sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement coloring your expression. “Well, now you know. So what are you going to do about it?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the door you’d just opened for him. The air between you was thick with tension, but this time it wasn’t just from frustration or anger. It was something more, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, needing to know that you were serious.

You nodded, your gaze steady and unwavering. “I’m sure, seungie. But only if you’re ready to stop running away and actually talk to me about what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his thoughts racing as he looked at you, really looked at you. The playful, teasing side of you, the warmth and care you always showed him, the way you were looking at him now—it all made his desire for you flare even hotter.

“I’m done running,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “But… can we take this slow? I don’t want to screw things up.”

You smiled softly, the tension easing just a little. “Slow is good,” you agreed, stepping closer until you were just inches apart. “But maybe, just this once, we can forget about slow?”

Heeseung’s pulse quickened, and with a shaky breath, he closed the remaining distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with yearning.

“Then stop fucking talking and show me,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you finally closed the gap, giving in to the moment that had been building between you for far too long.

The moment your lips met, it was as if a dam had burst, releasing all the tension that had been building between you two for days. Heeseung wasted no time, his hands immediately finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you gasped into the kiss, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen it.

He took control, his lips moving over yours with a hunger that left you breathless. He tilted his head slightly, angling the kiss just right as his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervor that made your knees weak. You moaned softly, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he backed you up against the kitchen counter.

The edge of the counter dug into your back, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way Heeseung was kissing you, his lips demanding, yet so incredibly soft against yours. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You taste so fucking good,” before diving back in, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You responded eagerly, matching his intensity as you kissed him back, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Heeseung pressed his body against yours, pinning you against the counter, the heat between you growing with every second. His hands roamed up your sides, brushing over your ribs before settling on your waist again, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your skin.

“Fuck, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” Heeseung muttered, his voice rough with desire as he broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I think I have some idea,” you whispered back, your voice just as breathless as you stared up at him, your eyes half-lidded with want.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, and with a low growl, he claimed your lips again, his kiss more demanding this time. He pressed you harder against the counter, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you slightly so you were perched on the edge. The movement made you gasp, and Heeseung took the opportunity to kiss down your jawline, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access as he nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “Hee…” you moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

Heeseung groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed his way back up to your lips. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. He took his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, his tongue teasing yours in a way that made your heart race.

You could feel the hard edge of the counter digging into your thighs, but it only added to the intensity of the moment. Heeseung’s hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mixture of reverence and desperation, as if he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. When his hands found their way under your shirt, brushing against your bare skin, you gasped, arching into his touch, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick and low. "All shy and putty in my hands, and I haven't even touched you." You shivered at his words, your hands clutching at his shirt as you tried to steady yourself. He kissed his way back to your ear, biting softly your earlobe. "What's the matter, baby? I thought you were the confident one," he smirked, his lips brushing against your ear.

You wanted to answer, but before you could, his lips found your sweet spot just below your ear, and a loud moan escaped from your lips. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he started nibbling and sucking that spot. You closed your eyes, your head tilting to the side to give him all the room he wanted to do whatever he wanted. "God, you're so sensitive," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot and rigged.

You whimpered, arching your back to press closer to him. "Hee, please..."

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing lightly over your inner thighs, teasing you. "Please, what, baby?" Use your words."

You shivered at the pet name, your teeth capturing your lower lip to avoid any more moans slipping from your mouth. "Please, touch me," your voice came out more whiny than you intended, but at that point, you didn't even care.

His eyes darkened, and he captured your lips once again in a hard kiss. "Good girl," he murmured against your mouth, his hands slipping your shirt before finally pulling it over your head, revealing your bare chest to him. His hands immediately flew to your tits, caressing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his lips trailing down your jawline. "So perfect for me."

Gathering your courage, you reached out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms, allowing you to pull it over his head and discard it on the floor. Your hands roamed over his toned torso, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. You marveled at the contrast of his strength and the gentle way he had been touching you moments before.

Heeseung's breath hitched as your fingers traced the lines of his abs, but he quickly regained his composure, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory gleam. "Enjoying yourself?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your hands still exploring his body. Heeseung smirked, leaning in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. As he kissed you, one of his hands slipped between your legs, finding your core outside of your shorts. He hissed, finding you already wet and ready for him.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your lips, his fingers brushing over your sensitive folds. "I barely have to touch you, and you're already this fucking needy."

You whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you. "Heeseung, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

He finally took your shorts and panties off, his fingers finding your bare cunt. His index parted your folds, his eyes fixed on your face to catch every little reaction. Then, without a word, he slipped two fingers inside you, his thumb finding your clit. He started moving them roughly, setting a relentless pace as you gasped for air.

"Is that what you wanted, baby?" he asked, his voice a low growl as the wet sound of your pussy filled the kitchen.

"Fuck, yes, hee, just like that," you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your brain quickly turned to mush, and you found it increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. Every time you tried to speak, it came out as a garbled moan.

"Fuck, look at you," Heeseung mocked gently, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and amusement. "You're already a mess, and I'm just using my fingers. What are you going to do when I'll have my cock inside you, mmh?" You whined in response, your hole sucking him in even harder as you clenched around him. He smirked at that, his lips dropping beside your ear as he whispered. "You like the idea of my cock stretching your little hole, yeah?"

You let out a loud moan, your eyes closing shut as you threw your head back. Your body started to shake as he continued to work you over with his fingers. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered, his thumb circling your clit with increased pressure.

You nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment. And with a final rough thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to move his fingers inside you, drawing out every last bit of your release.

Heeseung smirked, watching you come undone beneath him. "So beautiful," he murmured, finally slowing his movements. "I love seeing you like this."

He looked at you, eyes filled with an insatiable hunger as he licked his fingers clean. You were still reeling from your orgasm, your body trembling with aftershocks when he suddenly knelt down in front of you, his hands gently parting your thighs.

"Hee, what are you—" you began, but he silenced you with a heated look.

"I need to taste you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "I need to hear those beautiful little sounds you make, you can do that for me, right?."

Before you could respond, Heeseung's mouth was on you, his tongue parting your folds and delving into your sensitive cunt. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as a surge of pleasure shot through you. His tongue moved with a skilled precision, flicking over your clit before dipping back down to slurp all your juices.

"Oh my god, Hee," you moaned, your head falling back as you surrendered to the sensations.

He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. He was like a starved man, devouring you with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked, his tongue exploring every inch of you. You'd never had someone eat you out like this before, so focused, so determined to bring you pleasure. Heeseung's mouth was relentless, his tongue circling your clit before sucking it gently, making you cry out in ecstasy.

"You're so sweet," he murmured between licks, his voice filled with admiration. "So perfect."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you rode the waves of pleasure he was giving you. "Fuck, please don't stop," you begged, your voice a mix of desperation and bliss.

Heeseung's response was a deep, guttural moan, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. He was already addicted to your taste, the way your body responded to his every touch. Your moans and whimpers were music to his ears, driving him to push you further, to see just how much pleasure he could give you.

Heeseung's hands moved from your thighs to your hips, lifting you slightly to get a better angle. His tongue plunged deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, sending electric shocks through your entire body.

"Oh, God, hee!" you cried out, your back arching off the counter as you felt another orgasm building rapidly. "I'm so-so close."

Heeseung groaned again, his mouth working more fervently, his tongue lashing against your most sensitive spots. "Come for me, baby," he murmured against you, his voice a low, sultry command. "I want to taste you when you come."

That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, you came undone, your body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Heeseung didn't stop, his mouth continuing to work you through your orgasm, drinking in every moan, every whimper.

You were a quivering mess, your mind blank with ecstasy as Heeseung finally pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction. He stood up, his hands firmly gripping your hips, and you could see the raw need in his gaze. He tugged at his sweatpants and boxers, hastily pushing them down in one go, and your breath hitched when you saw him. He was big, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes wide with a mix of desire and apprehension.

He noticed your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased, his confidence bolstered by your response.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're... you're so big, Hee."

Heeseung's smirk widened, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply, his hands trailing down to position himself at your entrance. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make it fit," he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with promise.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Are you sure? I don't know if..."

Heeseung's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. "I'm sure," he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. "I'll go slow at first. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he began to push inside you. The initial stretch was intense, and you gasped, your hands clutching his shoulders. Heeseung moved slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Just relax for me, baby."

You took a deep breath, willing your body to relax as he continued to slide into you. The sensation was overwhelming, but the look of pure desire and care in his eyes made you feel safe. Finally, he was fully seated inside you, and he paused, giving you a moment to adjust.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight."

You whimpered, your body clinging to him, feeling so full. "You're so big, seungie."

He kissed you softly, his hands caressing your sides. "Just tell me when you're ready, baby."

After a few moments, the initial discomfort began to fade, replaced by a deep, aching need. "I'm ready," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Heeseung's eyes darkened, and he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you with a powerful, rough stroke. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "F-fuck," you moaned, the intensity of his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

He set a brutal pace, his hips pounding into yours. "You like that?" he growled in your ear, his voice rough and filled with desire. "You like being fucked like this?"

"Yes, f-fuck," you gasped, your mind going blank with pleasure. "So good. So fucking good."

Heeseung's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice possessive. "Only mine. Say it."

"Only yours," you echoed, your voice barely more than a whimper.

"Good girl," he praised, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. "You're taking me so well."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you felt yourself spiraling out of control. "Heeseung, I... I can't..."

Heeseung's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and gasping for breath. Heeseung followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Heeseung held you close, his forehead resting against yours. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath.Heeseung chuckled softly, his hands gently caressing your sides. "We should definitely do this more often."

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection for him. "I think I'd like that."

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rumisgf · 2 months

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❝ THINGS THEY DO THAT GIVE YOU BUTTERFLIES ! ❞ ╰┈➤ MHA EDITION (PART 2!)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: y’all wanted a part two i shall give a part two

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ includes: katsuki bakugou, hitoshi shinsou, shoto todoroki, denki kaminari, iida tenya, kirishima eijirou

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: black!reader obv, cursing, mentions of drug usage/marijuana, suggestive if u squint, fem reader implied, mentioning of babies/children

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

✮ wipes your tears sort of aggressively but only because he’s so urgent to comfort you and take care of you

✮ always hugs you by your lower waist

✮ when you go to the gym together, he’s the type to always say “c’mon, you can do one more.” or “do three more”

✮ ruffles your hair/flicks your forehead in a teasing way

✮ “act right.”/“watch out.”

✮ doesn’t remind you to drink water— he simply justs brings water bottles up to your mouth and tells you to “open up”

✮ if you have any, he cares for your pets like they’re his own

✮ just something about the sight of him holding a baby

✮ bites you just because he can

✮ pulls you into his lap whenever he’s tired of your attitude

✮ gets super close to your face like he’s gonna kiss you but pulls away just to mess with you

✮ “that’s my girl” in the most proud voice ever every single time

TODOROKI SHOTO

✮ any time he does get high he’s all over you and staring at you with half lidded eyes

✮ it’s just something about the way he curses man.

✮ loves falling asleep on the phone with you and takes facetime photos of you sleeping because he thinks you look like an angel

✮ runs his thumb over your hand whenever you hold hands

✮ loves giving earlobe kisses

✮ will casually be like “when we have kids,”

✮ sends voice memos ranging from something funny that happened in class to how much he misses you and needs to see you

✮ kisses your lip gloss off every chance he gets right after complimenting how nice your lip combo looks

✮ sends you pictures of yourself and says “you look so pretty in this”

✮ him whispering in your ear.

✮ has your contact as the only one pinned in his messages

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

✮ pats away your tears with his finger instead of wiping them (those who watch love island usa and are kordell + serena fans know what i’m talking about)

✮ places his hand on the small of your waist to guide your somewhere or move you out the way

✮ constant forehead kisses

✮ lifts you up and spins you around when he’s excited to hug you

✮ guides you into the right form when you workout together

✮ runs his hands down your waist and hips when he’s checking you out while you’re right in front of him

✮ him around kids. that’s all.

✮ gives you flowers pretty much every week— and one time he gave you a money bouquet for your birthday

✮ flexes for you when he feels you staring at him and pretends he’s not doing it on purpose

✮ throws his arm around you and presses you flush against his chest when you go to sit on the couch next to him

✮ refers to you as his “wife” to his friends

KAMINARI DENKI

✮ you could have been rotting in bed all day and when he facetimes you he always greets you with something along the lines of “hello my beautiful princess” with a lovesick tone of voice

✮ calls you “mama” and “ma”

✮ obsessed with skinship because he aches to be able to “crawl inside your skin” and just needs to be close to you

✮ blows kisses at you from across the room

✮ for comfort, he runs his fingers through your hair and rocks you back and forth while hugging you

✮ his morning voice :)))

✮ lets you bite him and encourages it

✮ gets very touchy when you’re on his lap

✮ the king of “i know you’re probably asleep, but” texts

✮ goes on rants about how gentle and how well he would care for you when you’re one day pregnant with his children

✮ always calling you his “pretty baby”/“pretty girl”

✮ always posts pretty candid pictures of you and makes heartfelt story posts for every birthday, anniversary, and valentine’s day

HITOSHI SHINSOU

✮ has read for you + sung you to sleep on multiple occasions

✮ grabs you by your chin to force eye contact

✮ “say please”

✮ checks you every time you have an attitude with a smirk on his face

✮ has a habit of biting his lip

✮ says “there you go, babe” way too much.

✮ glares at anyone who flirts with you while tightly wrapping an arm around your waist

✮ has made multiple shared playlists for the both of you

✮ says he’s “gatekeeping” you because you’re just too pretty and he has to keep you to himself

✮ plays with your fingers when he’s bored or nervous

✮ buries his face into your neck to bask in your scent when he hugs you

✮ randomly stares at your for a full five minutes when you’re talking, barely listening to a word you’re saying, then lovingly sighs “i love you so much…”

IIDA TENYA

✮ always opens every door for you

✮ holds your hands while walking across the street or through the hallways

✮ very protective over you and will respectfully cuss anybody out who disrespects you

✮ pretty much has replaced your name is his vocabulary with “honey” and “sweetheart”

✮ never calls you hot— he always calls you beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, or stunning

✮ grabs you by your sleeve or your belt loop to take you somewhere if you don’t hear him call your name the third time

✮ the thought of ever calling you his “bitch” disgusts him, he calls you his lady or his love instead

✮ will immediately grab the nearest box of tissues to wipe your tears or your nose whenever you’re crying

✮ kisses your cheek to greet you and say goodbye

✮ has deep conversations about your future together when you get to that point in the relationship, and is open about how much his heart swells at imagining you as a mother

✮ kisses your forehead when he notices you asleep on his chest

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verareids · 3 months

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feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader

spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3

also posted on ao3

“You know Pretty Boy likes you, don’t you?”

Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morgan’s voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way he’d look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than he’d like it to be.

He’s been trying to ignore it, telling himself it’s unprofessional when really it’s because he believes there’s no way you could possibly feel the same. There’s a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly – that was probably the biggest.

“Likes me? How old are we?” The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation.

“(Y/N), come on…” Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows he’d see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. “Look, you know he’s never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should just–”

“Derek.” You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve told you, it’s not happening.” Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesn’t have to hear you reject him even harder.

Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by you, not much does – especially where Spencer is concerned – and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. You’d sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didn’t take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek – he wouldn’t let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You haven’t given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you haven’t been able to deny it either.

When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. It’s only then you start to be concerned. It’s unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction you’d had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. He’s just tired. If it was serious he’d tell you… right?

The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didn’t write last night before he had basically ran away.

“Morning, Spence!” You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesn’t look up, like he’s trying extra hard to look busy.

“Morning, (Y/L/N).” He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly weren’t aware of. “I noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.” He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He responds after a while in a way that sounds like that’s not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.

“Spencer… I–” You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. “Is it me? Did I do something? Because if I did I–”.

“(Y/N).” Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.

“What’s going on with you?” You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.” You notice the way he dodges the question. He can’t meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.

“Spence, that’s not–” You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. “I only want you to be okay. You’ve been acting differently since last night… If there’s something going on I want to be there for you.” When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if he’s considering something.

“I heard you talking to Morgan…” He mumbles, still staring at his feet – wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? “On the jet on the way home…”

“Oh.” This isn’t happening. You figure you should’ve known Derek’s relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. There’s a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.

“Look, I– I didn’t mean to make this awkward…” Oh god. The way he’s stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. “It’s not like I thought you would feel the same way I just–” Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.” He begins to look a little panicked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did.” You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “(Y/N)?” He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.

“Sorry, I–” You say slowly while shaking your head. “Are you saying that – Do you like me?” Now it’s Spencer’s turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.

“Yes?” He replies hesitantly.

“I like you too.” You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback.

“You do?” The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. “But I thought— you told Morgan you didn’t like me.”

“I told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didn’t think this…” You gesture between the two of you. “Was ever going to happen.” Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.

“You could have just told me.” You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you weren’t messing with him.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought there was no way…” You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesn’t move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Well… maybe if we don’t have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?” You’re staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face he’s still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you can’t help but smile right back.

“Yes— definitely.” You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm.

You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldn’t have it any other way.)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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xreader-writing · 1 month

Text

STILL HERE | "They're eating sushi!'

✦ Sumarry: Y/n comes to her ex-boyfriend Lando Norris' defense when he's being canceled, and Lando couldn't be happier about it.

✦ Pairing: Ex!Lando Norris X Actress!Reader. | Timothee Chalamet? 👀 | ✦ WC: 1.491

A/n: English is not my first language, forgive my spelling mistakes dear.

LAST | S.MASTERLIST | NEXT

Y/n sighed and put her phone in her pocket.

"What happened?" Her castmate Timothee asked, handing her a cup of coffee.

"As if you didn't know." She said laughing, and he smiled back, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, but it could be another reason!" He said laughing, making her laugh even more.

Timothee looked at her and noticed her worried look.

"I read your text, it must have helped him a lot."

"Yes, but Lando is a little immature sometimes, and that makes things worse." Y/n sighs and runs her hand over her face.

"I wouldn't like being his lawyer." Timothee says making Y/n laugh.

"Thank God you act then, huh?" The two laugh and stay silent for a moment.

"Don't think too much about it, he has to deal with the consequences, I would say you've already done too much for him., none of my ex-girlfriends ever wrote me a cute text like that when I got canceled." Timothee says laughing and Y/n laughs more.

"Oh, poor him." She says, squeezing Timothee's cheek with her free hand.

"But seriously, I bet he's completely crazy about you right now." He says, raising his eyebrows and Y/n rolls her eyes.

"WHERE ARE MY TWO PROTAGONISTS?!" They hear the director yell, and Timothee whimpering covering his face with his hands.

"For the love of God, I just want a break!" he pretends to cry and Y/n rolls her eyes pulling his hand away.

And Timothee was completely right, Lando was checking his phone every 30 seconds to see if there were any messages from his ex-girlfriend.

"Stop checking your fucking phone Lando, her not going to call." Carlos said, patting Lando on the shoulder.

The pilots were all together on a "guys' night", but Lando couldn't keep his head there.

"Yeah, she was really nice to make that Instagram post for you." Charles says sitting next to Lando.

"Sorry, I'm lost." Max says trying to make sense of the matter.

"Didn't you see? They're canceling Lando." Charles says pushing Lando's shoulder.

"He seems pretty happy for someone who's being canceled."

"That's because Y/n made a post on Instagram defending him." Carlos says and Lando smiles as he remembers.

"Y/n? Your ex-girlfriend?" Max asks, still a little confused.

"That's her." "But you don't think she wants to get back with you just because of that, do you?" Pierre says, breaking Lando's smile.

"Why else would she do that?" Lando says a little louder now and Pierre scoffs.

"She might be completely over you, which is why she doesn't feel uncomfortable doing it." He shrugs, irritating Lando.

"That doesn't make sense..."

"Actually, it kind of does." George says thoughtfully.

"Why did you guys break up?" Oscar asks, and Carlos scoffs, taking another sip of his beer.

"I broke up with her." This gets Pierre's attention.

"Why would you do something crazy like that?" Pierre asks, laughing.

"Because... Iwantedtoenjoy." Lando says this so quietly and quickly that the pilots look at each other in doubt.

"You wanted to what?" Chales asks and Lando covers his face with his hands.

"I wanted to have fun, but I couldn't do that if I was dating."

When he finishes, there is silence in the middle of it, and wide eyes towards Lando.

"If you broke up with her, why the fuck do you want to get back together?" Pierre asks indignantly.

"Okay, let me get this straight, you broke up with your girlfriend of two years because you wanted to be with everyone until you caught a sexually transmitted disease?" George says and Carlos laughs.

"No, look, I don't know, I just wanted to have fun, okay?"

"Oh, I would have had a lot of fun if I was dating her." Pierre says laughing, making the others laugh along.

"Fuck you!" He says, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen to get some water.

"Wait Lando, it was a joke!" Pierre says laughing but Lando gives him the middle finger.

"Was it a joke Pierre?" Charles asks

"No" Pierre says laughing

Lando finds a bottle of water and leans against the counter, drinking it and checking Instagram.

He never unfollowed her, and she never unfollowed him, like she said, they remain friends. In fact, she has always been much more mature than him, and he remembers how she reacted to the breakup like it was yesterday.

—

"It's not you, okay? It's me." Y/n sighs and massages her temple.

"Lando, I know it's not me, and it's okay that you don't want to be with me, I just need to know why, that's all."

"I want to have fun, I want to go out with guys without having to worry about someone else holding me back." Y/n scoffs at that.

"I never stopped you from going out with your friends."

"I know, but you end up getting in my way."

"You end up getting in my way." That's what he said to the woman who put up with him day and night.

"That's right Lando, if I'm just a stone in your way, I better go." Y/n says this with an expression that leaves Lando upside down, Y/n has always been very reserved when it comes to feelings.

"I don't want to lose your friendship Y/n." Lando says as soon as she turns her back. She sighs and looks at him smiling.

"You're not going, you can count on me if you need anything."

And yes, he did and she was there, just like she said she would be.

—

Lando went on Y/n's Instagram for the tenth time that day, maybe to read her text again, or to see if there was a new post or story from her, he doesn't really know.

He just wanted some kind of update, that's all.

He feels his heart beat faster when he sees that there was a new story from her, but before he can press the photo icon, a hand squeezes his shoulder making Lando almost drop his phone.

"Damn Carlos, what a scare." Lando says, dropping the water bottle and putting his hand on his chest.

"You weren't upset, were you? You know how Pierre is." Carlos says, patting Lando on the back.

"I know, I'm just pissed at myself, that's all." Lando says, pressing Y/n's photo icon and immediately regrets it.

"What the FUCK is this?" Lando screams and Carlos snatches the phone out of Lando's hand to look at it too.

"Oh my God, Lando, they're eating sushi!" Carlos can't help but laugh and Lando takes the phone back, looking at those images.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"I don't know why you're so nervous, she said herself that they were on a break from the movie, besides, you guys aren't even dating anymore." Lando looks at Carlos without answering.

Carlos knew he was a little drunk and stressed, and he knew Lando would have to deal with the consequences even in that state.

Carlos sighs as he hears Lando sniffle.

"I miss her..." He says softly, wiping his eyes on his sweatshirt sleeve.

"Oh Lando, come here." Carlos pulls Lando into a tight hug.

"I know you feel that way, but things can still work out, it's not like they're posting pictures on social media or anything." Carlos tries to joke, but Lando lifts his head and walks away from Carlos, fiddling with his phone.

"That's it, I need to go on his social media."

"I didn't say that-"

"Son of a bitch!" Lando yells and Carlos closes his eyes.

"Lando, please-"

"Look at this!" He practically rubs his phone in his friend's face showing a post from Timothee.

Liked by youruser, carlossainz55 and other people

Tchalamet 🫡

@Youruser

—

Youruser 🫡

Tchalamet 🫡

User1 I hope they get together Geez.

User2 I don't know if I want her or him

User3 I think she deserves someone good for her

User4 I hope this movie gets nominated for an Oscar

"Why the hell did you like, Carlos?" Lando yells in Carlos' face.

"I liked it? I didn't even notice."

"Yes, you liked it damn it, whose side are you on?" Carlos observes Lando's state, controlling himself not to laugh.

"I'm on her side, for sure."

"This isn't going to stay like this, not at all." Lando starts doing something on his phone and Carlos sighs for the thousandth time in that half hour.

"Don't do anything you might regret later."

"There, it's done!"

"You must be possessed or something."

—

Timothee was looking at his Instagram and raised his eyebrows, surprised by what he saw in his notifications.

landonorris started following you

—

Taglist

@emryb @sltwins @lottalove4evelyn @weekendlusting

#lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #f1 grid x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #timothée hal chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #Lando x Actress!reader

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osaemu · 10 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

6K notes · View notes

reyalvr · 2 months

Text

SHE’S MINE | 02

-SO I HOPE AND PRAY YOU MAKE IT WORTH IT.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ YAPPEE! part two officially out- so sorry for the wait EUEUEU… hehe hope the things that happen in this chapter make up for it being a few days late :p also, i will not be accepting anymore tag list requests! this is due to the amount of users that i can tag per post T^T … nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy the chap! happy reading :D

p.s. i will be blocking the people who message me (rudely) to “hurry up” with the next chapters. i understand most, if not, all of you are excited to read the next chapters, but please do understand that i have my own schedule too :,)

prev. | next

YOU HELD YOUR HEAD IN YOUR HANDS, GROANING INTO YOUR PALMS. In front of you sat the thorn at your side, Ken Sato. He had just finished reading- or rather, skimming through the files you had stayed up compiling. You peeked at him through your fingers before standing up to erase yet another column of pros and cons from the board.

Taking a swig from the energy drink he had brought you, you shake your head as you try to figure out what to do next. Truth be told, you were just eager to leave. You had two weeks left until you could finally let these burdensome tasks go, all you wanted was for Ken to go along with your last few instructions so as to make your exit easier.

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this, Ken.” You say, turning back around to face him. “You pick a girl, you ‘date’ her for a bit, and then you ‘split up’ amicably. Simple as that.”

He tilted his head at you, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Oh sure, yeah. Let me just go out with a random girl and act like I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“Yes, exactly that.” You reply with the same tone, going back to your seat. “Now you’re getting it!”

He rolls his eyes, placing the stapled papers back on your desk. “I get it, I fucked up. But I still don’t get why you’re so…” He pauses, pressing his lips into a thin line and gesturing with his hands. “Persistent in actually trying to get me to date someone for the sake of my screw up.”

“And I don’t get why I have to keep reminding you of why I need to do this.” You lean back into your chair while pinching the bridge of your nose. “You were the one who-”

“-’Told the entire world you were in love’, yes I know! You’ve only said that like, what, a hundred times over?” He cuts you off, crossing his arms. “I know what I did. But I also know that I have a choice in this matter, don’t I?”

You go to reply but stop when you register his words. You knew that, obviously, which is why you had multiple plans. You were giving him the chance to choose, were you not? The various notes and drafted project plans were proof of that. They were all laid out right in front of him, what more could he possibly want? You look at him briefly, your eyes scanning his expression before darting back to the things scattered atop your desk.

“I’m giving you choices.” You say flatly, slowly looking back up at him.

“No, you’re giving me options and expecting me to choose.” He counters, his hand gesturing towards the papers. “I’m talking about my choice. My plan, suggestion, whatever you want to call it.”

“So what is your plan? Because as far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem to actually have one.” You reply, brows slightly furrowing at his stubbornness.

“And that’s the point. I don’t need a plan,” He pauses, pointing his finger directly onto one of the outlines and it towards you. “I just need to ride it out.”

You let out a scoff, stunned at how Ken was still treating this so lightly. The corners of your lips tug up a bit, and you end up letting out a soft laugh in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I, though?” He leans back, maintaining eye contact with you. “It’s the choice that takes the least effort. And besides, I thought you liked it when I kept things private.”

“Oh, don’t circle this back to me.” You say, pointing a finger at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to address your little mishaps?”

“Yes, I do. Which is why I’m trying to help you.” He says a-matter-of-factly, his eyebrows raising as if to emphasize how much he understands what your job entails.

“No, you don’t.” You argue back, mimicking his crossed arms.

“Were you always this stubborn?” Ken says, catching you off guard.

You feel your features scrunch up in confusion and annoyance, narrowed eyes slanting even more as this back-and-forth of yours keeps going. “You’re one to talk.”

At that he smirks slightly, rolling his eyes as he pokes a tongue into his cheek. The audacity of this man to act annoyed. You think, all the while you continue to glare at him. You close your eyes for the umpteenth time that morning, taking in a deep breath as your nails dig into your palms. Despite wanting to calm yourself down, his words rang in your head like an unwanted mantra.

His choice.

Would it be so bad to give Ken free reign on this? Granted, he was the one who caused it. Why be the one to clean up his mess- again, for that matter? You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head once more. You could never understand how his mind worked, and you figured you probably never would. You tapped against the desk with your pen, bouncing your leg as you pondered on what to do.

Your plan? Everything sets sail smoothly, with only the liability being either party slips up. Which, in your defense, you could cover up in the blink of an eye. His plan? No plotline with room for spontaneous detail sharing whenever he pleased. More work for you, more freedom for him. You stopped tapping then, clicking your pen into place. In your moment of contemplation, you had realized then this entire thing was useless. His plan, your plan, all the plans. None of them mattered, not if the end result was going to be the same.

Goddamnit, you hated Ken Sato.

You flip one of the stapled pieces of paper over, drawing over the blank side. “The start of your first full season with the Giants is in less than fourteen days. By then we would need to have already released another press release- ideally before your conference.”

Ken jumps slightly, caught off guard by your sudden return to work mode. He watches as you line up different keywords with boxy arrows, all of which lead up to the ‘end’ of his lie. “What exactly am I looking at?”

You flash him a smile, albeit a fake one, and slide the paper to him. “Your plan.” Leaning back in your chair, you make a show of stretching your arms. “You’re right, we should go with your plan.”

He laughs then, noting the lingering hints of sarcasm in your tone. “[Y/N], what are you doing?”

“Giving you your choice.” You reply with a small shrug.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He says, his smile slightly faltering. “But… why?”

“It’s your life, isn’t it?” You tilt your head to the side, your lips pressed into a thin line.

Now it’s his turn to be confused and annoyed. The way he understood this, you were letting him win. You were waving a white flag, surrendering to his incessant pleading. He scrunched his brows, still trying to process your words. You continued to sit there, waiting eerily patiently for him to respond.

“And you’re serious about this?” He questions once more, hesitant to believe that you of all people would back down so quickly.

“Mhm,” You hum, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m just your assistant. Well, for two more weeks, that is.”

He felt like he was being played. He blinked at you, mouth slightly agape. The you that was sitting in front of him now was different from the you thirty-six hours ago. Yesterday, you were desperate for him to follow your plans. He recalled your words, ‘If you're actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.’ But now that you’re telling him to do exactly what he wants, he’s nervous.

Nervous that he finally caused you to hate him for good.

“If you’re done sitting there like I said something stupid, you can go. Coach wants to see the team, it’d be in your best favor not to be on his bad side two weeks before playoffs.” You say, not even looking at him directly.

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Right, well, okay.” He stands up, sliding himself into his jacket before walking towards the door. “See you, then.”

You only hum in response, still not looking at him as you continue fixing all of the papers on your desk. Just before he’s fully out of your office though, you call out to him.

“Yeah?” He answers immediately, peeking his head through the door.

“Have fun riding it out.” You say, flashing him a smile. A real one, this time.

A WEEK HAD GONE BY JUST LIKE THAT. Surprisingly, Ken had been able to keep things under control. Even his comments to street paparazzis were concise, almost as if you were the one who coached him his lines. While you had expected him to do nothing, just as he suggested, you hadn’t expected him to last this long without an intervention from you.

You sat by your window as your body sunk into your armchair, your eyes threatening to close. The early blue hues of the morning had started to break through the night sky, the clouds slowly parting to clear the sky. You typed vigorously against the keys of your laptop, eyes following the blinking cursor to prevent yourself from falling asleep right then and there.

You had been up for hours constructing your updated résumé, keeping all your needed information concise and in one page. Despite having a well-rounded history in regards to jobs, the lingering fear of keeping yourself afloat was an inevitable burden you were scared of accidentally fulfilling. You had family, yes, but relying on them did something to your pride. Most especially since you had been low-contact ever since you abruptly moved to the city.

Seeking help from friends was another option that was off the table. In all your years of working in the entertainment industry, the amount of people you had let into your life dwindled as you realized people’s true intentions. You had merely three people left in your life, and that was by far more than enough to keep you sane throughout the rest of your life.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Truth be told, despite the factor of having to deal with Ken, this job has been the best in terms of your benefits. He was much like you- little circle, low-contact. Even his own team was a limited number, leaving you to deal with other jobs and tasks that would otherwise be done by different people. Yes, the workload was tiring, but the pay was enough to keep you alive ten times over. You could only say a silent prayer to whoever was listening to bless you once more once you let go of this for good.

You sat back, finally satisfied with the way your page was laid out. You faced towards your window, closing your eyes as your breathing steadied. The birds were starting to chirp, the sun casting a foggy glow through the clouds. In this moment of solitude, you allowed yourself to relax; it was more than deserved. Not like anything could happen in your sleep, right?

WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. You groaned as you were awakened by the continuous buzzing of your phone. At first you had thought it was an alarm you had accidentally forgotten to shut off, but when it continued on, you eventually had to force yourself to wake up.

The sun was high up now, bright rays peeking through your blinds. You squinted, uncurling yourself from your chair as you got up and stretched. You yawned, scratching your head as you finally unlocked your phone. You were greeted with an endless stream of notifications, your mail app and other social media platforms pinging by the second. There was also the factor of the loud noise outside, though you made it out to be some kind of commotion or parade.

Your screen then flashed the caller ID of an unknown number, followed by another sea of notifications. You blink yourself awake, now slightly worried at just how much texts and emails you had been receiving. Did Ken do something? Did someone die? Did Ken die?

Before you could even open any of the messages, you hear the familiar ringtone of one of your closest friends. You slide to answer, pressing your phone up to your ear. “Ami? What’s up, what’s wrong?”

She laughed, and you could practically see her shaking her head at you. “I’m guessing you just woke up? Check literally any news outlet right now, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

What the hell was going on? You mumbled something in reply, putting her on speaker as you did what she asked.

You wished you hadn’t. In bold, bright red letters, the article’s headline read:

Extra Innings in the Press Box: Ken Sato’s Hidden Romance with Assistant Revealed!

What you saw next nearly had you chucking your phone into the nearest wall. Attached right under the headline was you and Ken. You and Ken. You let out a curse, and you could hear the sighs coming from Ami on the other line. The picture was clearly shot from a hidden vantage point, the branches from the trees blocking the camera proof of it. Despite the distance, though, yours and Ken’s faces were clearly visible.

“What the fuck!” You yell, now fully awake eyes wide in confusion. “When was this released? H-How did-”

“Two hours ago. Apparently some passerby sold the picture to the press, and said passerby just happened to be paparazzi.” Ami cuts you off, her tone serious yet concerned. “Trust me, if I had known something like this was going to be released, I would’ve done something about it.”

You left your phone on the kitchen counter as you paced back and forth, your hand glued to your forehead as you tried to wrap your mind around what was happening. Obviously it wasn’t true, you of all people knew that. But nobody else did, and that was the problem.

“Ami what the hell is happening?” You manage to breathe out, still pacing. “This is all so-”

“Much? Yeah, I know.” She cuts you off again, and you can hear the bustling sounds from her office. “My own publisher is on my neck for this, God only knows what you’re going through. Are you okay? If you need help this could technically be classified as invasion of-”

“I do need help because this whole thing isn’t-” You start, but are ultimately cut off again when you hear the sounds grow louder outside.

“[Y/N]? ‘You there?” Ami’s muffled voice calls out as you walk towards your window, peeking down to where the commotion was coming from.

“Oh shit.” You gasp out, eyes widening even more as you realize the noises were coming from the sea of reporters and photographers waiting outside your townhouse.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the window with a hand to your mouth. This cannot be happening, this had to be some sick nightmare. Stumbling towards your phone, you mumbled some reply about needing to go before abruptly hanging up the call. Rude, perhaps, but Ami would understand.

In the span of two hours of that damn article being released, eager and greedy gossip outlets had found your address and swarmed your only safe space. You held your phone close to your chest, running up to your room as you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes once more, breathing in and out heavily. The more you tried to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening, the more you slowly realized that it actually was.

You opened your phone once more, muting all your socials and other messaging apps. You needed to think, and you needed to act fast. By memory, your fingers automatically scroll for Ken’s legal team. Having gotten him out of falsified defamations multiple times, acting during these types of situations was almost a second habit. But this didn’t involve just him, it involved you. You were a part of this mess, you couldn’t be the one to solve it.

A mantra of curses conjured up in your head, and you delete the previous number you had dialed in. Think, damnit. Think, think, think. You thought to yourself, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you prayed for a solution to be presented to you. An alternative popped up into your brain then. Albeit that alternative was stupid, but it was something.

You dialed his number, anxiously waiting as it rang.

KEN WAS ON HIS BREAK, SITTING ON THE BENCH AS HE WIPED THE SWEAT OFF HIS FOREHEAD. Playoffs were about to start, and Shimura was working them to the bone to make sure everyone had their head in the game. He let out a deep breath through his nose, arms resting on his knees as tried to calm down after a few laps around the stadium. The rest of his teammates seemed to be reacting obnoxiously over something, though he didn’t have the energy to feign enthusiasm.

One of his teammates teasingly nudged him then, giving him a playful grin. “Your secret’s out, huh? All this time you were with her.”

Ken laughed it off, still oblivious to the fact that nearly all of Japan now knew the face of his supposed girlfriend. He noted the specification in his tone, as if he were referring to a mutual friend of theirs. Which, again, was impossible- nobody but you knew the secret he was hiding. He gave them a nod before returning back to his own space.

He felt his watch buzz against his wrist, and he was all but surprised to see you calling him on your day off. He sat up straight then, grabbing his phone to answer the call. He had to admit, he answered a little too excitedly. Or nervously. He couldn’t differentiate the two, not when it involved you. Ever since the start of this stunt, something in him shifts whenever you or anything related to you gets mentioned. He brushed it off as some sort of familiarity attachment, the weight of your sudden resignation still heavy on his shoulders.

Was he sad to let you go? Maybe, he wasn’t entirely sure. Aside from the fact that he had Mina, you did your job well. You knew the ins and outs of everything he liked and disliked, you kept him organized and on track. Sure, losing you would be another hurdle he would have to get over, but that doesn’t mean he would be… impotent without you. He clears his throat before he finally brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hey-” He starts, but stops when he notices the frantic panic in your voice. “Woah, hey slow down. What happened?”

“You happened.” You reply then, albeit through a shaky breath.

“What?” He questions, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s exactly as I said. You happened,” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “And now I need your help. Please.”

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

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fairene · 3 months

Text

beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

prompt ⋯ ohhh hey ! wanted to stop by to say i love ur fic and wanted to request insatiable lando with max f’s sister like a forbidden summer fling with all their friends and no one’s supposed to know about their secret relationship ( especially max ) — @444mercss

a/n ⋯ this was much longer than i intended, but the words just kept flowing out of me. thank you to all those who beta read my post and helped with grammar!!! ( @jamminvroomvroom , @theonottsbxtch ) you all helped so much. and thank you to mercs for requesting this. i didn't know i'd enjoy it as much as i did, but it definitely was for 20k words. i'll probably take a week ( or maybe not ) off from writing just to give myself a cool down period, but still here to answer any asks. feel free to pop in. hope you all enjoy this, and remember, readers looks are up for interpretation, along with the outfits. colors of coloring are mention only briefly!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, oral(m+f)!receiving, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, feral lando. best friends little sister, brothers best friend dynamic, mutual pining, 'games', horny thoughts. much, much more. but even, possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc ⋯ 20.1k (WHEWWW WEEE... edited by @jamminvroomvroom, @theonottsbxtch)

the summertime was one of your favorites. you and all of the rest of your girlfriend’s would spend each and every day together without question. but as time went on, they got their own lives. partners, engagements, jobs. not to say that you weren’t an accomplished young lady, but it was starting to show that you were hung up on a life that was starting to fade.

your brother on the other hand, was keen on keeping you in this life. in tip top shape on your toes, he’d always challenge you in a multitude of ways. or annoy you to no end. typically it was the latter.

but he had invited you this summer on vacation with his friends. you knew them all relatively well, texted here and there, but you never imagined to be trailing along on a villa getaway sponsored by the quadrant house, mainly the famous lando norris himself.

you would be shy to admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for lando. him and his cheeky smile. the moles that donned his face. his starlit eyes that radiated an emerald hue beneath the sunlight. it was intangible the way that you could pick apart the details about his nuanced beauty, but it was a secret for you to keep. a secret that no one, especially your brother, could ever find out about.

but that’s all that it was, wasn’t it?

a dream. a pathetic fantasy. you wouldn’t ever gain the courage to talk to him, make a move, despite how often him and max talk about going on dates with girls. talking about his love life, or the rather drab there of. he fucked around a lot, max knew that, and would consistently warn you to never get wrapped up in the same lifestyle as the british driver. you’d hold up your hands in defense, shrieking a ‘don’t worry about me,’ though you wish you gave him a reason to.

why did you feel undeserving of lando– because he was a formula one driver? attractive? charming? were you afraid that you were going to be friendzoned–? oh god, that would be the fucking worst, wouldn’t it? you could never imagine the hangouts being the same. so you’d bite your tongue until it bled, even when your body yearned for the heat of his own.

the villa that you would be staying at was on lake como in italy. it was a beautiful venue, a place that you’d been dreaming of visiting. max knew this, hence why he’d probably sniped you an invite. but it wasn’t like no one wanted you there. everyone did. that was the problem. you were so incredibly loved by all of max’s friends, that he kept them at arm’s length. no one would ever hurt his little sister. not while he was still breathing.

“wow,” you breathed, stepping out of the uber from the airport. the house before you was a stunning makeup of eccentric architecture that dated decades before your own birth. it was a grand building with tall, marble columns. thoroughly decorated landscaping, and even had running fountains in the front. you were so lost in your awe that you didn’t see the huge pair of mahogany doors swing open.

“max,” you turned your head towards your brother who was grabbing your bags from the trunk. you shifted to the source of the voice, finding the british driver standing barefoot with a beach flannel and short-inseam khaki shorts low around his waist. you gulped before looking anywhere else but him.

“lando!” max approached him, arm outstretched for a shake. lando met him half way down the marbled steps, taking his sunglasses off from the top of his head.

“how was the flight, mate? good?” max nodded for the both of you whilst you fiddled with the accessories around your hands. you didn’t ever know what to say to lando. you found yourself unbelievably speechless in his presence.

“not too bad, ‘specially if this is what you’ve got.” lando chuckled at your brother’s words, and then his eyes finally landed on you. you and your comfortable outfit from the plane ride over. you and your pulled back hair, respectfully messy, and the jewelry that adorned your fingers. his eyes caught over the bling, and how you anxiously picked away at the skin.

“never thought she’d grace our presence,” lando said jokingly, which had your head snapping upright. you flushed, sucking your bottom lip with your teeth.

max rolled his eyes, avoidant of the topic of you in general. “whatever, mate, she’s here now, in’she?” what? what was that supposed to mean? was your presence requested? you suddenly felt wanted above all things.

“she certainly is.” lando approached you with his tongue tucked behind his bottom lip, hasty in his steps. you stood up straighter with a light smile on your face, eyes twinkling away from his own. you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “c’mon, love, i’ll take your bags.”

“are you sure? i can take–”

the bags were grabbed from your hands. you felt the palm of his own for just a moment— the warm flesh, humming low against his own. you felt like he spoke to you through your blood, but you let it go. lando norris wasn’t giving you special attention, that’s for sure.

you promised yourself that much. this whimsical, airy crush of yours needed to be vetted on the spot. he was your brother’s best friend, older than you, and certainly didn’t have time for a girl who wasn’t a celebrity.

right?

he took your bags through the exquisite villa. the interior was even more luxurious than you could ever imagine– floor to ceiling windows, candlelit ceiling lights, flora decorating each wall that you turned to. it smelled delectable, too, wafting germanium and coconut oil. the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored, as you shimmered brighter than the summer sun.

“you like it, then?” came lando’s voice. your head dropped, glancing at him from where he stood, waiting for you to join him on the steps. had he been watching your face?

“you’re joking.” you assured, hands clasped together. “it’s beautiful.”

lando smiled then, too, letting his lower lip snatch between his top teeth. he tried hard to conceal his happiness, but you felt like you could feel it amongst the air. you felt warm all of a sudden and cleared your throat, urging him forward up the spiraling staircase.

you walked in silence with him down the long corridors. you would pause before each door briefly, wondering if he was going to open it, but he didn’t. it wasn’t until you were reaching the ends of the hallway when he stopped, twisting the knob of the white wooden door. he stood aside, letting you in first.

the room you’d be staying in for the next few weeks was more than you could ever dream of. with its spacious interior, personal bathroom, and private balcony, you felt like the luckiest girl alive to be able to experience this. to live in this moment. to be here. in italy, of all places.

lando interrupted your dreaming haze by sliding the bags in. you turned to face him in your unruly, exhausted glory, and he stared at you. a hand of his found the back of his neck.

“so…dinner tonight at seven, pool day tomorrow, um…” he looked around, acting as if he could suddenly have the words appear into his head. “oh and, if you need anything, my room’s just next door.”

he said it with haste, as if he were shy about the fact, and was already stepping out the door.

“wait,” you said, stepping forward. lando hung back, gripping onto the door frame, swinging his head back into the room. “thank you.”

the words seemed to hit him harder than you thought that it would. he blushed a light red, dimming his tanned face, and cleared his throat before nodding. “of course.” he said with out hesitance, making it clear that he would do this for anyone. “‘m glad you’re here.”

and then he was gone.

you stared at the shut door in stunned silence. did you really hear him correctly?

you didn’t let your thoughts linger too long, but you couldn’t help but let it. the curly-haired brunette stayed in your mind whilst you settled in and unpacked. all ounce of his shy, gaunt nature.

by the evening you were more than settled and relaxed. you’d taken a small nap to rejuvenate your energy, and just in the nick of time for dinner. you got ready amply, sliding a comfortable dress over the surface of your body. the straps were thin and fell loose upon your collarbones. you’d pair an elegant pair of low rise heels on your feet, pointy-toed, that matched the color of your dress.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the dim yellow lighting illuminating the corners of your face that you so frequently forgot to appreciate. it was in the hours of the night that you could appreciate yourself, unopposed to the gawking looks of strangers.

there was a soft knock on your door at 6:57. you turned, dress swaying from your movements, and cracked it open.

lando stood there on the other side. him and his dark shirt and khaki pants. he wore a pair of leather black loafers that matched his shirt. he smelled good, too, a masculine tint of sauvage.

no words were spoken between the two of you. you simply stared at one another, lost in each other’s features. you resisted the urge to trace the moles on his face with a finger, whilst he fought himself to not reach out and run his hands along the fabric of your dress.

his eyes softened when you met his, cheeks filled with a simple kind of joy. the two of you were done ogling at one another, still foreign in each other’s presence.

“ready?” he asked. you nodded, grabbing a matching handbag from the countertop and slung it over your arm. you shut the door to your room behind you and walked a few paces behind lando. you weren’t close with him like that to walk side by side.

or so you thought.

he dragged his feet to slow his pace, coming parallel to your side. he held his breath for a moment, turning to look at the exposed skin from your dress. you caught his wandering eyes and looked up at him, wandering beneath his emerald depths.

“what?” you asked tenderly, voice hitching in your throat.

“nothing.” he turned his head to face back forward. “just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”

that was an understatement. you haven’t seen lando in almost three years. max had done a stellar job of wanting to keep you separated from his friends, though you weren’t upset about it. you had your own life, and that was perfectly enough for you.

but you were a girl with a heart full of wanderlust, and often dreamed of what you could’ve had. there was a marksmith of delusion prodding the hidden parts of your brain, working tirelessly to pick apart the small interactions you’ve had with lando over the years.

when you turned 18, he brought you to an exclusive club and showered you with gifts, alcohol, and even more. it was a night you wouldn’t forget, feeling lucky enough to manage a dance with him on the dance floor. his hands hovered above your body, the warmth seeping through your skin, rattling your bones. he even got so close to your face that you could feel his breath. smell the alcohol that reeked from him.

you thought you were going to kiss.

and so did he.

but your brother separated the two of you, calling lando over for a group shot. you were left there, stranded on the dance floor, with the phantom touch of a man that you knew you could never have. it pained you to admit such a truth to yourself, but it didn’t loiter. you had a life to get back to, not indulge some silly, fanatical dream that kept you up late at night as a teenager. lando norris was the fantasy, never to become a reality.

though, every time in presence, you’d manage to falter. set those delusions free the second he’d act kindly to you; gentle, tender tenacity that you believed would be special to you. max’s little sister. that’s all you were, though, weren’t you?

“you’ve been well, haven’t you?” you asked him with a hum, holding your bag with both hands in front of you. the leather piece bucked against your abdomen. lando watched, peering to see if he could hold it for you.

“‘course. living my dream, aren’t i?” you’d made it to the end of the hallway. the top of the staircase.

“it’s not a dream.” you said with a softer intonation. he looked back towards you with a raised brow. “it’s reality now, i’d reckon.”

he smiled.

the two of you made it down the steps. you lingered in the grand foyer, beneath the candlelit chandelier. it was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set. it had created a pink and blue hue over the water’s edge.

but you weren’t looking at the water’s edge.

you were looking at lando. your brother’s best friend. he had his hands in his pockets, facing the open living room, rocking back and forth on his heels. you cut your way to his line of sight staring upward at him. he looked down at you, wondering what you were searching for.

you had considered not doing what you were about to do. you really did!

but your hand was already outstretched, the tips of your fingers grazing over the grown facial hair on his chin. he didn’t jolt from the action and merely stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide from the warmth of your touch.

“i like it,” you commented before taking your hand away, finding yourself into much deep trouble if max had seen the two of you.

“yeah?” lando asked, suddenly much closer to you.

“makes you look older and manly.” you rolled your eyes.

“what? i wasn’t manly before?”

your hand rolled over your mouth to withhold a laugh. “i’ve seen you weep at the sight of fish.”

lando’s face lit up and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. “doesn’t make me any less of a man.” he crossed his arms.

“really?”

“just enthusiastic. don’t see a problem with having a bit of character.” you didn’t argue with him further when you saw your brother and other group friends join one another in the living room. they made their way closer to the two of you.

you took a step back from lando. he couldn’t take his eyes off the action, his face falling instinctively. it’s nothing. his expressions mean nothing. they’re not for you.

“c’mon, i’m starvin’.” max called, slapping lando on the back. sure enough, you were walking out the door behind your brother, everyone trailing in an orderly manner.

you heard lando call your name from in front of max. you hummed in response. “you’ll ride with me, yeah?” you blushed. how could you not? max turned his head over his shoulder, his voice saying nothing, but his eyes telling all. he knows how you felt about lando when you were younger.

he knows, he knows, he knows. but surely, surely you’ve gotten over that little crush of yours. and lando, too, hadn’t harbored any feelings towards you either? surely, surely he couldn’t. you were his little sister. and max knew how lando treated girls as of late.

it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he said nothing when you nodded, brushing past him.

lando opened the door for you. his mclaren was a two seater, comfortable, and roared to life when lando turned over the engine. you couldn’t help but laugh feeling the seat vibrate beneath your thighs. it was a feeling of exhilaration that you hadn’t felt in a long time, but a feeling that came perpetually with lando’s presence. being with him made you feel alive, more alive than the years you’d walked this earth.

your excitement had done things to him as well. his eyes were glued to how you reacted, enthralled by your visceral enthusiasm to being in such a tangible sports car. your fingertips grazed across the leather interior of the door handle.

“gonna jump out on me?”

you shifted in the leather seat, crossing your legs over one another. there was a heat building inside of you, deep in your core.

“not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.”

you smiled to yourself, looking down at your fiddling hands. lando stepped on the gas and pulled out of the villa’s extraneously long driveway, leading the pack of friends behind him.

“you look fit.” came his voice, nervous, beneath his breath. your eyes caught his side profile, all rough edges of it. “beautiful, but your brother’d have me by the balls if he heard me say that.”

your breaths were heavy in your chest. “then don’t let him.”

lando’s head whipped to meet your eyes, hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. you weren’t even sure what you were implying with your words, but he hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting them. god forbid he didn’t understand. you didn’t brush him off like you did as a child, didn’t stumble away bashfully. now, in your grown state, you faced him head on. you challenged him, just as he suspected you would.

“between us, then?”

you nodded, tongue coming to wet your bottom lip. you made a motion of a lock and key against them, throwing the key out the window. he watched, but was drawn back to the road. that was one of the fastest car rides you’ve ever been in with that roaring engine, feeling like you had stepped into the biggest unknown of your very existence.

the restaurant that lando had made reservations for was absolutely beautiful. you couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve been awed by the sites you’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself. you were simply one of the luckiest girls with even richer friends.

lando opened the car door for you, sprinting to the other side. you found yourself laughing at the action, finding his urgency cute.

you stepped out of the car and you immediately found your brother, his stance idle before he marched over to you.

“he say anything to you?”

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?”

max didn’t elaborate and simply settled for a huff from his nose. lando had been handing off his car to the valet man when he met up with the two of you. your other friends were in tow, eight of you in total, and made it inside the restaurant with ease.

you didn’t even think about what the seating arrangement would be. not until lando pulled out a chair for you, beside him, and you had no other choice but to settle in. not like you were complaining though.

but max was going to. you could see the look on his face when he sat opposite to you, flashing you a pair of warning eyes. but you didn’t know what warranted them– you didn’t even say anything to lando, more or less.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling far too old for these insolent glances, and picked up the menu. lando sat next to you, mirroring your actions. you placed the napkin on your lap, a polite etiquette you’ve always precluded dinners with.

“ah– look,” you leaned into lando’s space, the heat from his body, the cologne from his shirt, sifting through your nose. it was tempting. “for you.”

your finger pointed to the blackened cod that they had on the menu. lando met you half way, looming over your shoulder at what you were pointing at. as soon as he read it, he scoffed. “fuck off.” you couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to stifle the sound the best you could.

“don’t do that,” lando’s voice came firm, but soft against your ears. he was talking just loud enough for the two of you to be able to hear. you glanced quickly at max, who was lost in conversation with his buddies.

“what?”

“hide your laugh.” you guessed you didn’t realize how often you muffled yourself. your hand lowered to your lap. “you used to do it when you were a teenager, too.” he pointed. you thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “never understood why. especially since it’s so pretty.”

you froze, staring up at him with weary eyes. he looked confused at your expression. your hand came to slap his bicep. “stop it.” but you were teasing him. he saw right through your tone.

“don’t let him, ‘s what you said, right?”

you swallowed. nodded your head.

his mouth dipped to your ear. his breath hot, just like your cheeks. “he won’t hear a thing then, will he?” lando’s nose brushed against your scalp, and you thought for a moment, dreamed, that he would plant a kiss upon your head. but his lips simply hovered, breaths warming your strands of hair.

but you turned your head to meet his eyes, shaking his contact off. he noticed. tensed. “but he can see, you imbecile.”

that had lando laughing. your face broke with a smile, unable to resist his intoxicating gestures. he simply shrugged, letting you win this one, and his arm came to sling over the back of your chair. his fingertips grazed the strands of your dress, dipping down to your bare shoulders. your posture straightened against the chair, legs crossing over one another beneath the table. he watched you shift, his teeth catching his bottom lip to retain his smile.

the waiter came to take your orders. you ordered your preferred choice and drink, lando following suit. when the table received their drinks, you lifted your glasses for a collective ‘cheers’.

when the main course was finished, you were handed the dessert menus. short a couple, you had to share with the man next to you. you nudged lando’s shoulder with your own and like a dog to a whistle, he was over your shoulder once more, his stubble barely pinching your skin. the thought burst through your head: what would it feel like on your neck? on your thighs, your cunt? you blushed again for what felt like an infinitesimal number, but turned your attention back to the menu.

you pointed at the option that you thought was best. lando hummed, his eyes tracing over the features of your face. you glanced at him. “what?” you asked.

he simply huffed a short laugh and nodded his head at your choice.

it arrived sooner than later and the two of you split the sweet dessert. your brother was still lost in his own conversations, leaving you to your ministrations with lando. whatever they may be, you’d want them all.

when you had your fill and so did he, you couldn’t help but look at him. he turned, and you laughed quietly between the two of you. he raised a brow.

“you’ve got–” you pointed to his lip, but you figured your words were fruitless. you licked at your thumb and raised it to his mouth, cleaning him. his eyes darkened, becoming hooded with the shadows of lust. you even dared to bring your thumb back to your mouth, popping the remnants across your lips with a ‘pop’. lando never thought his dick could be so hard.

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.”

there was a brief silence. one second. two. “you’ve always been trouble, haven’t you?”

your own eyes were hooded. “maybe.” you teased, cleaning your fingers with the napkin. “guess you have to find out?”

lando’s hand gripped tighter on the back of your chair.

“guess so.”

the drive back was tense. tense with your excitement. on the way out, lando and you lingered at the back of the pack. his hand was on your lower back, warm and electric, reminding you that you had stepped into the deep end with him.

you still couldn’t believe what had happened.

lando was speeding down the freeway, weaving his way in and out of cars, a dangerous task that you only felt comfortable with him performing. you’d lose your mind if anyone else was the driver, but he was the professional here, wasn’t he?

you were even so bold to roll the window down and stick your hand out, feeling the harsh slipstreams beneath your nailbeds. you relaxed in the seat, head lolling against the cushion, hair flying into the wind. lando turned his head to look at you, his elbow leaning on the interior beneath the windowsill, and almost swerved into oncoming traffic. you were a picturesque beauty, lounging freely in his passenger seat, legs crossed, free.

you were at peace for the time being, and it was the only way he’d wish to see you. but he could think of other things.

he pulled into the house with ease. it was well lit amongst the long, windy driveway, and he made sure to let you out first. you two were the last to arrive at the house this time, taking your sweet time. you were in no rush to race back to your room, and neither was he.

it was well past 10pm. when you reached the foyer, max was waiting for you.

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked.

“bright and early.” you confirmed. he pulled you in for a swift hug, rustling the top of your head with that familial brother love that you adored him for.

he patted lando on the back briefly, before narrowing his eyes at him. you didn’t understand what was happening between the two of them, bro code, but lando seemed to understand well enough. max and his buddies traipsed up the steps, and you felt at ease when you heard their doors shut.

it was just you and lando, now, idling in the foyer.

you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from.

he did.

there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back.

lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty.

“you wanna know something?” you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. “i had a crush on you when i was a kid.”

that stifled a laugh from the british driver. “you did not.”

you shook your head. “sure did.” you didn’t know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. “max was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me you’d be there.”

the pieces began melding together in lando’s mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldn’t see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of ‘what-ifs’ trifling through his mind.

“‘was just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.” your hands covered your face for a brief moment.

“you always wore skirts,” he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. “that why?”

you were shameless when you nodded your head.

“so embarrassing, i know–”

“what about now?” he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips.

“what do you mean?” your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest.

“what do you feel for me now?”

you couldn’t meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldn’t judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down.

there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didn’t have you as afraid as you thought you’d be.

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you.

you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his.

he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins.

lando’s legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips.

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest.

“some dreams just remain dreams.”

he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall.

“do you want to dream forever?”

no. no. you didn’t. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted.

you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same?

his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes.

“wake me up,” you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldn’t appreciate a woman at his side. “please.”

he didn’t wait any longer to meet your lips with his own.

you were cautious with your touches. your hands were on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. but your kiss was deep by his own volition, gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb, earning a groveling sound in your throat.

his other hand was stroking your back, pushing you against him until your breasts were firmly against his chest. you gasped at the firm contact, him using it as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth. he explored every corner with an expertise you didn’t know was possible. no place went untouched by his saliva, marking a cavern of his own, and perhaps awakening a fantasy that had been dormant for years.

he lied when he said he didn’t notice you.

he lied.

lando would always await your appearance when he went over to max’s house. he’d hear you skip down the steps in whatever mary-jane heel you wore for that day. max would groan when your head popped through the archway, waving at his friends, but your lashes fluttered when you settled on lando.

‘course he fucking noticed.

he thought of you a sweet girl, caring for her brother, with an exquisite taste in fashion. he’d remember the skirts you wore– black ones, pleated ones, plaid ones– they were all committed to the vaults of his memory. he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

and he still did. while you were perched atop of his lap, huffing in nervous breaths, your hands anxiously skirting across the plane of his dress shirt. you shook atop of him as your lips moved coincided with one another. two bodies, melding together beneath the moonlight.

your tongue swirled against his own, hips bucking against the bulge in his pants. your cunt tightened aimlessly, drenching his pants below. he could feel the patten of fabric become lathered in your slick, and it brought him back to earth.

“we can’t.” he breathed against your lips. his chest was beating up and down, unable to calm himself. though he attempted rejecting you, his hand tightened around the fabric of your dress.

your nose brushed against his as you chuckled. “a bit late, isn’t it?” your teeth bit at your swollen, bottom lip. you could see his eyes flash downward at your action, his own tongue wetting his own.

“your brother,” he began to shake his head, still clutching around the fabric of your dress.

“he doesn’t…” you began to say, kissing the sides of his stubble. you were even so bold to take his free hand, guide it to your inner thighs, and let his fingertips caress the wet fabric covering your cunt. it was swollen, desperate for his touch. you’d been desperate for his touch. desperate for as long as you could remember. “have to know.”

lando’s fingers curled upward to apply pressure right on your clit. he didn’t even have to search for it, and you shifted your hips, bucking them across his palm. “fuck, baby…” he groaned into your cheek, followed by a crass chuckle. “you always get this wet?”

your head buried itself into the junction between his neck and shoulder, whining with embarrassment. “jus’ for you…” the words came quietly, but they rang loud in lando’s ears. he could feel the vibrations from your throat, your aching cunt. you were laid atop of him, dripping down your thighs.

“yeah?” he breathed, finding his heart beating rapidly beneath the weight of your body. his fingers began a pattern of motions across your clothed clit—back and forth— and you mewled into his shirt. there was a patch of drool beneath your lips. “look at you, then, made a mess all over me…”

your lips sucked on the skin of his neck, biting at his chest. attempting to shift closer to him, if it was possible, had your cunt aligned over his clothed cock.

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.”

lando wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to. this was his best friend’s little sister. the amount of lines he’s crossed. the friendship he’s had for years suddenly feeling vulnerable, out the door. but he can’t say he hasn’t thought about a moment like this. fantasized about it once or twice.

“touch me,” you pleaded, tilting your head to look at him. your eyes were wide, glossy with your pleasure, whilst his darkened at your contact. “more, i need…” your hips grinded against his palm. “more.”

“fuck,” he cursed beneath his breath. fuck his self control. fuck whatever this was going to do to his friendship. you are real, pining for him in his lap, begging you for his touch. anything from him, really, you would take. this moment felt like it was going to flutter away any moment, and you’d be waking up from a sick, yearning dream.

the hand upon your back steadied you against his body, whilst the fingers of his other moved the fabric of your panties aside. here, with his sensitive fingers, he could feel the heat from your cunt. it washed over him like a wave, retracting, tightening when he flexed his middle finger. you were utterly drenched for him, the cool breeze of the night raising goosebumps along your skin.

you shivered above him, watching how his hand worked beneath your dress. his hand against your back curled around the base of your neck, angling your eyes back up to his own. “eyes on me.” you listened, melted at his soft, demanding tone, and nodded your head. you shimmied frantically across the plane of his hand, but he tsked. “be patient.”

you seemed to understand well enough. he would give you what you wanted, in time. you would be patient, holding back the whimpers deep within your throat. you were just about to implode on yourself when he finally inserted his middle finger into your folds, taunting you dangerously. you gasped, unable to keep yourself still as your back arched. your head fell back into his hand, lando’s thumb swirling around your bare neck.

the straps from your dress fell loose with the motion and you could feel the breeze harden your already taut nipples. his eyes clinged downward at the sight before him, head bending forward to kiss your exposed chest. one of your hands came to clench around his wrist, the other to his neck, holding him fiercely to your body.

your fingers were thrusted deep into the base of his neck, the fade of his hair. you tugged when his finger curled deliciously inside of you, his thumb– acting so expertly– applied gentile pressure to your clit, toiling with your impetuous lust. you felt exposed to him, putty in his hands, weightless against his body.

the british driver’s lips were relentless on your skin. your chest was claimed by his tongue, swirling around the top of your breasts, edging you further to a spectacular orgasm. he sucked tight against your skin, but your head raised to meet your lips to his ears.

“no marks,” you requested, but you heard him growl against your chest. his hands flexed– his wrist clutched with your palm, his hand on the back of your neck– the contact with your neck had you breathless, clenching around his singular finger, and he took blatant notice.

“a secret, yeah?” he confirmed, holding back his groveling tone. the words were bitter when they hit your ears. there was a layered amount of surplus emotions that guarded his heart, held him at arm's length, and he knew it would tear him apart. but now, he focused on you atop of him, and getting you to come.

“mhmm…” you had to clamp your mouth shut from bursting with a wanton moan. it was too much– the way that he swirled his thumb, how his finger was just the perfect length to bottom out inside of you. your hips moved relentlessly, despite his grip around your neck, and you pushed down on his wrist when it started to become too much for you.

but lando had other plans. he shook his head, let out a tsk between his lips, and let his ring finger slip into you with ease. you let out another moan, deeper than the rest, but he responded with a tug on your hair.

with his lips still against your breasts, his motions froze. “quiet.” you hummed a disapproving sound. “want me to stop?”

you shook your head. “no– no!”

you could feel his teeth against your breasts, a cocky smile no doubt with how flustered you became at the thought of him stopping.

“gotta be quiet, love–” and then his lips were back on you, sucking amply at your skin. his head lowered until he captured a nipple between his teeth, letting the ridges toy with your sensitive buds. your head lowered to the top of his as you breathed him in– his shampoo, his cologne– and it didn’t help with containing yourself.

his pace against your cunt quickened. dual fingers sliding in and out of you with ease, thumb riding aggressively on your clit. you could feel the coil inside of you wringing with heat.

lando’s lips found your other nipple, treating it with the same voraciousness that the other received. it was beginning to become too much for you. no man had ever had you this way– putty, liquid, melting– beneath his touch. you feared that you’d never be able to have an orgasm again.

you became antsy in his hands. your grip on his wrist was shaking, your thighs desperately clenching around his waist. he took it as a sign that you were close, and the words fell easily from his lips.

“gonna cum for me?” his chin rested on your chest, angling to look up at your sweating, flushed expression. your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded. his grip around your throat tightened against the columns. you’d never trusted a man so much to not hurt you.

“come on, sweet girl, ‘ve got you.” he promised to you, “bet you’re so pretty when you cum.”

you felt the skin of your lip break into a light gash beneath the weight of your teeth. you’d been so focused on keeping quiet, that you went ahead at your own expense. lando saw the way your eyes opened, and lurched to meet your lips with his own.

the iron upon his tongue didn’t frighten him. perhaps it turned him on in some manner. the lengths that you were willing to go to keep your sweet lips tightened. but as his own tongue swirled around the stinging cut of your lip, you moaned into him. he absorbed the sound, locking it into the expanse of his memories. you had such a sweet voice. he’d never hear something like it again.

“come on, baby,” he urged you once more, speaking into your mouth. his breath was hot, spinning a knot of thread with your own. you felt him laugh at your oncoming orgasm, taking joy from eliciting such pleasure from you. “let me see how pretty you are.”

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to reach you. you went taut, shaking in his hands, eyes rolling into your head. you swore you saw stars, and that was just from his fingers alone. it had you wondering what his cock felt like.

your head fell limp against his shoulder, breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of his shirt. you didn’t want to let him go. his fingers laid idle inside of your tightened walls, not wanting to release the feeling either. not with his hand drenched, his pants soaked, and his forehead dripping with his own sweat. his cock had been painfully hard, a pool of his precum seeping through his pants, combining with your own. it was a beautiful, disastrous mess that he’d initiated between you two, but he felt no regret.

you sniffled against his shoulder, breezing with the cold air, and let your arms wrap around his neck. you hid your face against his body, attempting to bury your embarrassment within him. you had just come on the balcony atop lando’s lap. what fucking world were you living in? you’ve had feelings for him for what felt like a century, and now a dream that you didn’t even know was possible of coming true, came at the palm of his hand.

lando couldn’t believe it either. you were tucked against his body like a hand to a glove, a perfect fit, breathing heavily, shaking, against his palms. your cunt roared with a beating heat, swimming with the orgasm he had given you. proud wasn’t a word that could surmount to this feeling.

and he said nothing when he fixed the straps of your dress, gauging a more presentable you. he tucked your hair behind your ears, fingertips loitering on the expanse of your cheek. you smiled into him, coming to raise your head to meet his eyes.

his eyes fell to your blistering lip. the swollen buds that he sucked the blood out of. his forehead met yours, and neither of you said anything; just a soft breath and heartbeat between the two of you.

within seconds he took his hand from your cunt, washed his fingers against his tongue, and let it fall to your bare back. you were stunned at the motion, but drool pooled in your mouth. you gawked, openly, just how hot the action was alone.

lando stood with you in his arms. one hand on the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh. your legs, whilst trembling, tightened around his waist for support as he took you through the quiet villa. the only lights were the candles that were still burning, but you didn’t see them, your head hiding in the crevice of his neck. he hummed quietly, a rhythm that had your eyes beginning to lull with sleep.

you heard him open a door quietly and shuffle around the mess on the floor. your room, no doubt. you’d left a pile of clothes as a welcome for yourself when you were picking out your attire for the evening. it didn’t help him, either, by being surrounded by your scent. your perfume, you, it swirled around him, taunting him. dared him to fuck his best friend’s little sister.

lando bent down to lay you into your bed. you fell against your will, hands still upright for him to fall in. but he just couldn’t let himself.

he did, however, let his fingers trail across your bare thighs, your knees, your calves, ankles, until he was met with your heels. his hand lingered on the back of your ankle, angling one of your feet upright to slip a shoe off. his fingers moved to the other, placing the expensive pair on the ground. you stretched your hands above your head, falling deep within the pillowy, feathery embrace.

you stared up at him. your hair messy, dress disheveled, eyes heavy with exhaustion. and he looked down at you, moving forward to let his fingers trail up your sternum, the perks of your breasts. the moment was so quiet. only your breaths and his own could be heard– and maybe the pounding of your heart.

he looked beautiful looming above you, hovering with a protective, apologetic look. apologetic? what did he have to apologize for? except for a mind-blowing orgasm, that is.

his hand froze against the place of your heart. palm flattening, he could feel just how fast your heart was racing. you grabbed his wrist, thumb sliding up and down against his veins. he swallowed.

“don’t know if we should do this again.” he spoke quietly.

your heart broke. you sat up straight in your bed, confusion written all across your features. you thought that this was something between the two of you. that he wanted you. and now what was happening? did you do something wrong?

“why?” you asked, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t help it. the girl inside of you had come to the forefront, her dreams of being with lando being squashed beneath the weight of his words.

he sighed deep, unable to meet your eyes. he was about to say something before you interrupted him.

“you don’t want me?”

his head snapped in your direction, almost breaking clean off his spine with just how fast he went. he shook his head, hand coming to cup your cheek, but you shook his affections away. your hand dropped from his wrist, wanting to feel nothing of his heart.

he spoke your name. twice. three times. you looked back toward him, tears hot in your eyes. “hey.” you focused on his voice. “you know that’s not true.”

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped.

he fell to his knees before the side of the bed. an action no man has ever done for you. you gaped visibly, watching as both his hands came to rest upon your knees. he leaned into you. stubble tickling your thighs.

your name was sweet on his tongue.

“what would your brother say–?”

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down.

lando’s head dropped between your thighs, taking a deep inhale of your skin. you shivered, letting your hand rest on the back of his neck.

“we need t’give it time.” he said upon raising his head. he looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes. the moonlight shimmered through your windows, casting a vague gracefulness of illumination across his tanned skin.

“how much?”

lando wasn’t sure. his silence was an answer enough. you sighed, letting your body fall against the bed once more. he lifted himself to sit beside you, placing both hands at your hips to cage you in.

“hey,” he said to gauge your attention back to him. “we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you wanted to believe him. but you weren’t sure that you could. lando leaned down to kiss your sternum against the fabric of your dress.

“you still want me?” you asked, voice cracking with your emotions.

“i’ve wanted you,” he said against your stomach, “since the day you came down in that white skirt.”

you gasped, head tilting to look at him. that was one of the first times you met him– third, maybe– you remembered which one he was talking about. it was a skirt with little white bows, embellished with threads of ribbon and lace.

“the one with the bows?”

“that fuckin’ skirt…” he scoffed with a laugh. you were still floored, but managed to smile. you couldn’t believe his confession, finding it unbelievable. unbelievable that maybe, maybe you had a chance with him. the girl inside of you was squealing, but the woman didn’t quiver beneath him.

there was a momentary silence between the two of you. but you shifted, moving to stand. lando watched you from his perch on your bed, hair ruffled and eyes red from his own wrought of emotions. you didn’t expect this from him. this sensibility.

you began to strip with your back turned to him. he watched. silently.

you stripped of your panties and threw them over your shoulder. lando caught them, still gawking at you. “keep them.” you spoke. “you ruined them.”

that had him laughing. but he kept them, staring down at the lace material. you threw on a large shirt from your suitcase that reached your mid thigh. you finally spun around to meet his eye, but he didn’t dare move.

“what?” you asked, his staring becoming more intense.

he swallowed. shook his head.

“you better go.” you spoke for him as you approached your bed, narrowly dodging him when you threw yourself down. his eyes raked over you, speechless. “lando.” you reaffirmed, bringing him out of his haze. he let out a sigh and stood, hand coming to brace the back of his neck.

he lingered before opening your door, glancing at the dress on the ground. and then he was gone, shutting your door behind him, before falling to his own bed. you were lucky to find sleep that night, and it came easy with your exhaustion. but anxiety thrummed through your mind, bustling with a pint of rejection. it was so sweet from his tongue, but it hurt all the same.

lando laid in his bed before he showered. changed. laid in his bed with the thought of you. how did this happen? how could he forfeit a lifelong friendship? it was simple, really. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, and he couldn’t ever let you go. he’s always watched you from a distance. liking your posts, viewing your instagram stories. he was obsessed with you in more ways than one, but that was a secret for him and him alone.

yet, he couldn’t get max out of his mind. how he would react to him? to you? fuck, the thoughts were brewing a storm inside of his head. the damage had already been done, his heart already thrumming with the essence of you in its wake. you spread through the blood in his veins, latching onto his vitality like a parasite. though he welcomed the thought, the wonder of you overtaking his life.

that was a thought that he could fall asleep to. and he did, snoring with a good guzzle that had you tossing and turning.

the morning came and went. you were up early, as you promised max, but took time planning your wardrobe. you wore a bathing suit beneath your choice of clothing, but what was essential was the short, white, skirt that rode mid-rise on your waist.

the shirt you wore was thin, sheer, a light beige. it had straps that came down to tie a bow between your breasts, and cropped enough to leave heaven to the imagination. for one man in particular, that was your goal.

‘i don’t know if we should do this again.’

fuck that.

you skipped down the steps and were met with max awake bright and early. he had been cooking breakfast, a favorite of yours, and was just about finishing up before he glanced towards you.

“morning!” came his preppy voice. he was wearing a thin white shirt and swim trunks, ready to take on the day to swim.

“good morning.” you sat down at the lush kitchen island, max sliding a plate of food in front of you. you dug in immediately.

“woah,” max commented, sitting down beside you with a cup of tea. “relax. thought we were going swimming?”

you coughed. “we are.” you continued to finish your food with haste. “just hungry.”

you heard more steps come down the stairs. but you didn’t turn your head until max did, his eyes brightening as his close friend was approaching.

“mate,” max said, eyeing up lando. “you look like shit. did ‘ya sleep last night?”

lando hummed with his tired voice, already prepared to go swimming as well. he wore a black shirt with papaya swim trunks. you ogled at him before he looked at you, turning away quickly once he skirted his eyes towards your direction.

“slept great.”

you scoffed.

max and lando turned towards you. the fork in your hands dropped and your eyes widened. a blush creeped onto your cheeks.

“you snore,” you commented, still refusing to look at him. “you know that?”

max turned towards lando. “your rooms are next to each other?” the words were poignant, aimed as a remark to the british driver. he simply shrugged his shoulders in response, not finding any reason to engage.

you stood with your plate in hand, making headway for the sink. from behind, you could feel a pair of eyes heating the plane of your back. you weren’t stupid. and neither was he, knowing exactly what you had done this morning.

the skirt you wore was a reminiscence of his confession the previous night. it brought back the childlike memories of grade school. a time when life was simpler, and you were just a girl, and he was just a boy. but he knew you weren’t that girl anymore. a woman grown, you were elegant. he didn’t understand how you were related to max, a scruffy rascal, but he was happier for that.

when you turned on the water for the sink, lando approached you. max had been tending to his phone, scrolling through social media, so he hadn’t been paying attention. lando’s shoulder brushed against your own when you were scrubbing, desperate to say something.

“you–”

“max,” you interrupted lando, turning off the water and turning towards your brother. lando took a side step away from you, giving you space when max looked up from his phone. you received a side eye from the british driver, his lip curling with pettiness. he saw what you were doing now. was this your form of punishment?

max responded with a ‘hm?’ “you want me to cook tonight?” you offered, and max glanced at lando, who never stopped looking at you. you saw max’s expression tense.

“why not. could save us some money, won’t it?” he said, waiting for lando to add on. “right, lando?”

lando spun around, releasing his tight grip on the counter. he took a sharp breath in, nodding his head in agreement. you watched as a blush creeped onto his face. you bit on the inside of your cheek, but weren’t expecting lando to retaliate.

he spoke your name, which had your head lifting. “what happened to your lip?”

you froze. eyes widening. your own lip twitched with a remedy of a snarl, and he bit back, his nose curling with distaste.

max approached you two, observing your scabbed lip from the night before. “shit. he’s right. what happened?”

you reached back to clench the marble counter beneath your fingers. “uh–” lando held back his devious smile. “bit it in my sleep, ‘spose.”

max simply shrugged his shoulders, and headed for the backyard where the pool was. when the door shut, you let out a sigh. lando stepped in front of you, caging you in with his arms. his head dipped to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your cheek.

“get off me,” you commented with grit, biting your words. lando shook his head, not moving.

“don’t play this with me,” he said, lifting his head with a deep inhale. you raised a brow at him, having absolutely no idea what he meant.

“said we weren’t going to do this again, didn’t you?” you made him sit with his words. make him roll in the fucking mud. “we’re not. and if we were–” you shoved his chest with both your hands, which had him lurching backward. he didn’t go far. “i’d fucking win.”

he invaded your space again, leaning his lips towards yours. you felt his breath again, his scent creeping into your nose. it was like he never left.

“y’sure ‘bout that?” he said with a light tone, teasing you with the vibrato of his words. you swallowed a lump in your throat.

but you stood your ground. “positive.”

lando lingered for a second longer, leaning closer to your lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you out in the open kitchen. “whatever you say.” were the only words he said before he leapt away from you suddenly, leaving your exposed body cold.

he followed you out to the pool, never leaving enough space between you two. but you had other plans–sticking by max’s side would surely drive him insane.

so you sat beside your brother all day. in the pool chair next to him. tanning, reading a book, scrolling on your phone– it didn’t matter. it wasn’t long before the rest of your brother’s friends joined everyone by the pool.

most of them were in the pool by the afternoon. you had made your way to the kitchen, shedding of your skirt and top. left in your swimwear, you wanted a snack.

in the bowls of fruit you found, you pulled some mango, strawberries, and bananas. you cut them with a knife from the drawer, and put them in a bowl. there was more than enough fruit for everyone, but you took some of your favorites in the meantime.

the sun was hot that day, and you had forgotten your sunglasses. sunscreen on your head would cause greasy hair, and you didn’t want that. so you searched briefly in the kitchen for any sort of hat that someone left, and you found one.

it was a papaya hat. with mclaren’s logo, and a number 4 on it. you smirked, bringing the hat atop your head.

it fit nicely and you grabbed the bowl of fruit. you made your way back outside to the patio and your brother noticed you immediately. he called your name, and you sauntered over.

lando and his mates had been in the pool playing with a frisbee, but as soon as max had said your name, he was looking over his shoulder. he went speechless.

with his hat atop your head and your exposed body, he could help but drool at the sight of you. a droplet trailed down his chin, but he dunked the lower half of his mouth into the pool before anyone saw.

“for us?” max asked towards the bowl of fruit. you popped a slice of mango into your mouth, biting tenderly into the piece before nodding your head. lando swallowed tightly, practically shaking beneath the surface of the water.

you placed the bowl on the wooden table and stood back as you were met with the onslaught of a crowd of wet dudes. you backed up towards the stairs of the pool, ready to hop in yourself. you thought yourself a genius– having the entire pool to yourself while they ate. but before you stepped in, your elbow was caught in a warm palm.

lando faced you with his bare chest dripping with chlorine, hair ruffled and damp. droplets of water slithered down his cheeks, which you felt tempted to rub away with your thumb, but you retained from stretching out your hands.

he simply stared at you. and you stared at him.

then he flicked the end of the cap with his pointer finger and smirked, raising his brows with a teasing fashion. he had the nerve to glance at your chin, narrowing his eyes. you didn’t have time to react before his own thumb came to wipe away a droplet of mango juice from your chin.

the action was fast, unnoticed by anyone around you. you blushed instantly, freezing in place. lando popped his thumb into his mouth, tongue visibly swirling around the fingertip. he made a humming sound, approving of the taste.

“tastes sweet.” he muttered to you. he raised his eyes, hooded beneath the glare of the sunlight. “not my favorite, though.”

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out.

with your eyes flared wide, you spun away from him, throwing the hat to the side, and dove straight into the pool.

you needed to cool off. desperately. and your time in the pool did. when you finally climbed out, max was lounging in the pool chair beneath an umbrella. you joined him in your seat, drying yourself off with your towel. lando was watching the entire time, sitting opposite to max.

when you finally laid down with the towel of your bare legs, max scoffed at his phone. clearly, he was trying to get your attention.

“what?” you said, the hat you had thrown off was now back in your lap.

“look,” max handed you his phone, and you immediately rolled your eyes. it was a picture on instagram of your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. his new girlfriend that he cheated on you with. he was a fucking asshole, and max knew that from the very beginning.

“ugh,” you groaned, handing his phone back to him. max took it and was about to keep scrolling.

“what?” lando asked, curious now to see what the two of you were grumbling about. max handed him his phone, but he was still confused who he was looking at.

“her ex,” max commented with a rumble. lando’s eyes shot up at you, watching your expression shift. lando was now investigating thoroughly, scrolling through this guys posts. he still had some of you up, and it only angered him. it angered him to an unfair degree, feeling the pinnacle of jealousy, although entirely unwarranted.

“i brought him to a race once,” you pointed out, unable to look at either of them. instead, you settled on the water in the pool. “barcelona, last year.” your arms crossed over your chest.

lando raised a brow. “he was that leach for leclerc, wasn’t he?” you were surprised that he remembered, but nodded your head. it wasn’t a good memory. he had abandoned you the minute you arrived at the race in search of the ferrari driver, and had to manage yourself alone in the crowds. it was miserable, but at least you got to see a good show.

“yeah,” you commented with a huff. “fucking asshole.”

“asshole.” max mirrored you.

“why did it end, then?” lando was pushing the boundaries, but max didn’t seem to notice or mind.

though you did.

you didn’t want to relive the thought. the embarrassment. the entire fucking heartbreak that you pathetically went through.

“because i was stupid.” is all you said before you stood with your towel, making your way inside without another word.

max turned to face lando and smacked him on the shoulder. “the fuck did you ask for?” came his harsh words. lando was stunned, not intending to chase you away.

“shit, sorry i–” lando was quick to rise to his feet, though, not even glancing back at max before he chased after you. “i’ll fix it,” he promised before disappearing inside, and max simply shrugged, wondering just how lando could work his wonders. though he doubted he truly could.

lando called your name from deep inside the villa but you were already half way up the steps. you froze when you heard his voice, stifling back any sounds from your chest. he caught up to you, standing a step beneath you.

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

“just what, lando?” you grumbled, truly not wanting to hear his words. “you wanna know just how embarrassed i was? huh? when i found he was fucking one of my best friends?”

lando stood there, shocked, coming to hold out his arms for you to fall into. but you didn’t. “i was such a fucking idiot. it was right in front of me but i didn’t believe it. how smart of me, right?!” your voice raised when lando cornered you at the top of the stairs, your back against the wall.

you couldn’t help but spew emotional nonsense. “oh woe is me, truly, you’d probably end up doing the same–”

lando caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand leaning against the wall. “what did you say?”

you gulped, not meaning for the words to slip off your tongue. shit. he looked pissed. pissed that you would think so lowly of him.

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

his hand tightened around your chin. “really? that what you think of me?” no, no, no! you didn’t. you didn’t. you shook your head in his hold, your eyes largening with your emotions.

“if you were my girl,” lando whispered to you, not breaking eye contact with you once. “you’d know it.”

but you dared to disagree.

“what am i then?” you challenged, your voice raising in the echoing halls. “what was i yesterday, a whore?”

he bared his teeth at you, displeased with what you called yourself. his hand from your chin latched onto the side columns of your throat and your mouth parted with a delectable pleasure.

“you needed me, yeah?” he was sure to comment. but you didn’t budge.

“get your hands off me.” you bit out.

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.”

“clearly you didn’t do a good job for a second run,” the words pinched his ego, though the hand against the wall came to slide around your waist.

“weren’t you begging for me? or did i make that up?” you seethed at his cocky tone.

“think you had too much to drink. i’d never beg.” it was a straight lie that came from your lips. he knew it. you knew it. but you pretended to keep your strength.

“‘touch me, please,’” he mocked in your tone.

“must’ve dreamed it. thinking ‘bout me, lan?” the nickname was new for him on your tongue and he bristled, along with the blood soaring to his cock.

“‘more, need–” you slapped your hand over his mouth.

“fuck you.” you hissed. his mouth curved to a smile before he let his grip on you go.

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.”

you brushed past him with a scoff and he stood there idly, watching your hips sway side to side. he chuckled at your retreat and you flipped him off before entering your room and slamming the door. you were done with these fucking games, his toying words. he had no right to approach you after finding out about your ex.

you immediately turned on the shower in your room and stripped of your bathing attire. it was when you were searching aimlessly through your drawer of panties, you remembered that you were missing a pair.

a smirk grew on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel that you held the power.

a few hours had passed after your interaction with lando, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. you were missing from the entirety of the activities around the pool, and he even dared knock on your door, but he resisted. though it tore him apart, thinking about your writhing anger.

but you, you had other plans. you’d showered off from the pool, taken care of your skin, and taken a nap before you were to get up and make dinner.

you had come up with the idea for dinner.

fish. as everyone enjoyed.

you smirked to yourself as you made your way down the steps. it was quiet, and you heard no churning of others about the halls. it was nice to revere yourself in the solitude of the late afternoon, hoping that you would have the entirety of the downstairs floor yourself.

you got to work with your scheme and pulled out the fish from the fridge. whatever you were making, you were sure it would be delicious.

and when the meal was just about done, you heard a strangulated sound of ample footsteps down the staircase. you were just about done setting the dinner table when max soared through the kitchen, aiming right for the pans and pots of ingredients you sniffed.

“woo!” he cheered, clearly delighted with your cooking. the other boys at his side were quick to mimic him, agreeing with his statement. your hands clamped over your heart, showing how happy you were that they were thrilled.

“well,” you urged. “go sit! i’ll bring it over.”

they didn’t hesitate. beginning to take spoonfuls of rice, vegetables, and the fried fish you whipped up, they were eager to get a headstart. your thoughts wondered where the british driver was, but your thoughts were answered when you heard the last pair of footsteps through the grand foyer.

you just finished placing the bowls of food in front of the eager boys. they weren’t polite in waiting for everyone to sit down, but you didn’t mind.

it was an afterthought for what his meal would be. of course you knew he despised fish. you listened to everything he said when you were younger, years ago, and never forgot.

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines.

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for.

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?”

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.”

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker.

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice.

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove.

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days.

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged.

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips.

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done.

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table.

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck.

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap.

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit.

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone.

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table.

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here.

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind.

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit.

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings.

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word.

“dessert, anyone?”

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen.

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go.

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you.

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you?

you were.

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends.

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours.

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not.

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself.

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward.

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger.

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered.

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you.

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall.

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted.

and maybe you did.

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races.

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand?

the answer was undoubtedly yes.

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it?

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick.

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time?

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all.

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean.

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought.

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table.

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most.

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in.

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own.

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.”

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises.

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine.

“being a fucking tease…”

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity.

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed.

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction.

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust.

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?”

“no.”

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were.

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth.

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly.

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you.

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?”

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you.

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat.

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more.

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan.

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.”

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure.

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes.

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle.

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat.

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam.

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him.

he snickered. “guess so.”

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue.

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–”

you shushed him.

“on the house.”

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes.

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad.

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home.

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee.

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms.

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call.

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds.

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds.

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night.

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air.

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him.

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is.

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching.

and spellcasted he was.

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper.

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice.

you were.

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed.

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper.

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile.

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust.

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic.

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you.

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right.

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother.

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf.

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him.

“he’s a good guy.”

lando was sitting up now. listening.

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.”

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter.

“and…what did you say?”

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them.

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.”

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you.

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it.

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity.

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping.

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers.

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat.

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.”

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered.

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you?

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?”

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons.

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical.

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side.

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?”

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age.

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs.

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes.

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired.

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.”

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile.

shit.

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night.

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top.

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time.

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?”

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris.

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had.

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good.

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek.

“he’s a good lad, innhe?”

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of.

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful.

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa.

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone.

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?”

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could.

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.”

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you.

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat.

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you.

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—”

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.”

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too.

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan.

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum.

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?”

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness.

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.”

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him.

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away.

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed.

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—”

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.”

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way?

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt.

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom.

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry.

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect.

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for.

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling.

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear.

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.”

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder.

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend.

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh.

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail.

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed.

“am i?”

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean.

“think you like it, love.”

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter.

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered.

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?”

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder.

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit.

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine.

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with.

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.”

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad.

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table.

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it.

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him.

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?”

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words.

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through.

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to.

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other.��

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end.

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse.

lando hummed.

“about us.”

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for.

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship.

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for.

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms.

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat.

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side.

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

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