#maybe i should sit down n do that

[pup-pee]

for kart request, can we get more disabled!bart and kon?

!!!! them!!!!!!

uhm,,,,,,,then also i fucked up the download of this drawing so ;;

I DREW THE OUTFITS SLUGGY DREW THEM IN BC THE DRAWING IS STUCK IN MY HEAD AKSJFHSJKDGHFJA

[raiiny-bay]

today's drawing efforts

[blujayonthewing]

doing a little data management on the switch and feeling tender about video games

[itsalwaysdark]

i want to watch the things on my watchkist but i also never do its rly tragic

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! - G.S.

Synopsis. You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid… …is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, banter about physics, cunnilingus, oral sex (male + female), 7 minutes in heaven, college! AU, 69, Satoru is a tease down bad for you (and has a big dick), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.2k

A/N. I really don’t like physics. Art by @_3aem on X.

Life truly has an awful sense of humor - almost as bad as Gojo’s, which you discovered on the first day of Advanced Quantum Physics. 

The air charged with nervous energy and the scent of freshly printed syllabi, you quickly snag a seat right at the front row of Professor Yaga’s class. 

Ah, you’ll never forget how peaceful those few seconds to yourself after introductions were - before the devil incarnate dramatically swung open those lecture hall doors and plopped himself down right next to you. Late. 

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” a voice hums from beside you, shattering your daydreams of passing this class with flying colors and riding a wave of glory into becoming a Nobel prize-winning physicist. 

With a slight scowl, you turn your attention to the source of disturbance - only to meet eyes with (self-proclaimed) campus sweetheart, Satoru Gojo, leaning on his chair with an air of nonchalance. At your silence, he repeats, “I said any closer-”

“I heard what you said.” you snap, irritation flaring at the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the mirthful grin that spreads across his lips at your reaction. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you’re sitting here too.” you raise a brow.

“Oh me? That’s because I’m already fucking his wife, sweetheart.” he deadpans with a blank expression. 

What? The tense silence that follows is deafening - for the first time ever in your life, you were shocked into speechlessness. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Before Gojo bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. “You- you shoulda seen the look on your face- HAHAHA-” he gets out between uncontrollable laughs. Face burning, you train your eyes forward and will yourself to not glance at the 6’3 mess cackling beside you.

Ugh. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just think happy thoughts - kittens, quantum mechanics, being valedictorian. Desperately attempting to block out the giggling thorn at your side, you recoil at Professor Yaga’s extremely disapproving look in your direction. 

Panicking, and dreams of being his ace student slowly flushing down the drain, you quickly flip through your notes, attempting to catch up to where the lecture had now started. 

“Looks like we’re in trouble, partner~” Gojo’s dramatic stage-whisper catches the attention of students around you, them chuckling at your expense. 

“Hey, you’re the student president, right? Hey~ Heyyy prez~” As Professor Yaga continues his spiel about the syllabus, you continue to very obviously ignore the incessant comments that spill out of Gojo’s lips, to stifled laughs from his fast-forming entourage. 

The harder you tried to focus on Professor Yaga’s words, the louder and more absurd Gojo’s comments became - as if he’d made it his personal mission to enrage you. A sense of impending doom looming over you, you glare at him with a look that could’ve melted steel, hissing out, “Do you ever in your life shut the fuck up?”

Eyes widening in mock innocence, he grins “Oh~ I didn't know our student prez could get so feisty. Maybe I should take notes instead of doodling hearts around your name in my notebook.”

Ears ringing in embarrassment and frustration, and mind a whirlwind of how bad it would really be if you killed Gojo right here, you almost miss Professor Yaga’s question, “Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Teetering on the edge of your seat, you raise your hand, scrambling to salvage whatever is left of your academic reputation. You and- Gojo?

You start at the call of your name from Professor Yaga, “The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Gojo basically falls out of his seat in eagerness to answer after you.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Gojo.” 

You internally groan, ready for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth. 

With a deep breath, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Professor Yaga raises an intrigued eyebrow at Gojo’s statement, the class collectively holds a breath - as if awaiting the impending academic battlefield.

Gojo, with a cocky grin, plows on, “Think about it. The Pilot-Wave theory suggests that particles have definite positions and paths, unlike the uncertainty principle of the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's like predicting where a ball will land after you throw it, rather than saying it could be anywhere until you look."

Oh? He wasn’t a complete idiot?

Yet, you roll your eyes, “But the Pilot-Wave theory is too fanciful, it brings in too many hidden variables that have their own set of problems. It goes against the measurements and principles of locality!”

Unbothered by the challenge, Gojo leans back further in his chair, “What’s a couple complications? It’s a lot clearer on a microscopic level, none of that weird uncertainty of the Copenhagen Interpretation.”

Irritation running through your veins, you scoff at his condescending tone, “It might seem intuitive, but experiments and observations support the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics.” You’re almost out of your chair at this point, an accusing finger pointed at Gojo. “Despite its weirdness, the Copenhagen Interpretation has proven successful in predicting outcomes.” 

“Oh yeah? And it’s also only used by hardasses that just want to shut up and calculate, sweetheart.”

“Big talk for a little bi-” 

“OKAY STUDENTS, that’s enough for now. Let’s put a pin in this discussion and move on with the topic.” Professor Yaga, who had been watching the debate with amusement, promptly ends it once you two begin to get overly heated. 

The rest of the class, on the edge of their seats and probably hoping for some fists swinging between the academic titans, now sit back in disappointment at the fight cut off early. 

You sit back in indignation, fuming at how Gojo had gotten you so worked up. And he was wrong too! 

The lecture continues as if you two were never two curse words away from each other’s throats. 

But, in the midst of it all, your glare meets blue, sparkling with amusement - a jolt of electricity runs through your body at the glint of recognition of the other’s brilliance. An unspoken yet undeniable competition.

You’ve avoided Gojo like the plague for the past few months since then - which isn’t doing much when said plague follows you around everywhere with incessant calls of “Hey, hardass prez~”. The only time you seek him out being to gloatingly show off the large, red “100” on your tests - to which, unfortunately, he does the same. 

It’s stupid. It’s childish. Honestly, sometimes you think he just tries to get under your skin for the hell of it.

But you don’t have the time to think too deeply into that.

Just like you don’t have time for this frat party. 

Music and alcohol thrumming through your veins, it’s always the same thing. You’d rather be holed up getting ahead of your physics textbook than be here. Yet, you owed a favor to your friend Haibara - and he’d been bugging you to come to this party for weeks now. 

You’ll just stay another hour then leave, you sigh.

Zoning out as Haibara plays an overly-intense game of beer pong, you’re startled by an arm around your shoulder. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our lil’ prez looking like she’d rather peel paint than be here.” The expensive cologne hits you before the realization of who this was. “Drooling over the jocks? I recommend the STEM majors, sweetheart, jocks aren’t that great in bed.”

Quickly shrugging off his arm, you scowl, “Not like STEM majors are any better. And unlike some people, I have goals beyond being the life of the party.”

Decked out in slacks and a slightly too-unbuttoned shirt, Gojo chuckles, “Yeah, like what? Banishing fun?” Cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief, “You gotta let loose for once, sweetheart. Not everything in life is about academics and accolades.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Well not like I-” but whatever snarky retort gets caught in your throat as Gojo seizes your hand, effortlessly pulling you onto the dance floor. 

Caught off guard, you can do nothing more than sputter in surprise as he leans down to murmur in your ear, above the bass reverberating the walls, “C’mon hardass, sometimes in life, you just gotta- dance!” 

Gojo spins you into a dramatic dip, his silver chain brushing your face and his hand on your back burning into your skin.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment - yeah, embarrassment - as the people around you cheer in amusement at the science department’s biggest rivals navigating the dance floor with surprising chemistry.

This was ridiculous. And yet, music ringing in your ears, you almost crack a smile. Almost. That is until your eye catches Haibara’s surprised ones from the side of the dance floor. Wait - here you were dancing with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Immediately pushing him off with a hand to his chest, you don’t listen to whatever spills out of his mouth as you make your way to Haibara, disappearing with him into the crowd.  

“Hey, hey you okay? Wasn’t that the guy you were manifesting would step on Lego with his bare foot?” Haibara’s concerned voice speaks up from wherever you were dragging him through this sprawling frat house. 

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even- Anyway, how did the beer pong go?” you snap out of your reverie. What happened there? You were almost…enjoying yourself with Gojo Satoru of all people. 

Listening to Haibara brag about his dominating beer pong win thankfully took your mind off of your little endeavor with Gojo. 

“And then Yuji totally-”

“AH, THERE YOU ARE! Perfect, come join we’re two people short!” your kinda-friend Shoko’s drunken drawl breaks through the conversation. You can barely get a word out as she forcefully drags you two into a dimly lit room against your protests. 

The atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter, she plops you two down onto the floor in a neat circle of people before taking her seat beside you. “GREAT! Now we’ve got everyone, we can finally start.”

With a mischievous grin, Shoko declares, “Alrighty, folks! Time for the ol’ classic - we’re playing 7 minutes in heaven!” pulling out an old-fashioned, tattered hat from behind her back, to a collective mix of groans and cheers from the circle. 

“Where did you even find that ratty old thing, Shoko?” a sharply handsome man - Geto, you think - chuckles from his seat opposite you. And beside him- your heart stops. Gojo.

A smirk curling his lips and twinkling blue eyes locked on you. 

As if on instinct, you move to get up - only to be brought back down by a hand on your wrist. “Nuh-uh, no one’s escaping, c’mon it’ll be fun.” Shoko smirks, beginning to hand out pieces of paper to write down your names.

Apprehension pooling in your stomach, you share a glance with Haibara, who was honestly just happy to be here. Reluctantly, you scrawl down your name, tension building as it drops into the abyss of the hat.

“As our first attempted escapee, I think the prez should go first.” that agitating voice you knew too well speaks up. If looks could kill, Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing all over his grave with a textbook on the Copenhagen Interaction. 

To agreeing laughter - and your impending doom - the hat is promptly placed in front of you. God, you knew you should’ve stayed home. With a shaky hand, you delve in, grasping onto a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Not Gojo. Please not Gojo. Literally anyone but Gojo- 

Turning it over.

Satoru Gojo.

You jolt in surprise, rereading the hasty handwriting over and over - as if willing it to change. This must be some kind of sick joke. Eyes meeting Gojo’s, a flash of surprises passes his face before a self-satisfied grin takes over. He looked way too fucking pleased with himself.

“No fucking way.” Shoko mutters as it dawns on the group just who you were paired up with. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupt, filling the room as Satoru stands up extending a hand theatrically towards you. “If her highness the student prez would do me the utmost pleasure of joining me.”

You scoff, jeez it would be a surprise if you two didn’t kill each other in there. “Unless she’s…intimidated?” he bats his long lashes at you mockingly.

Intimidated? Of who? Swatting away Gojo’s hand, you stand up. “Intimidated? Don’t make me laugh.” 

He leans down, retorting, “I’ve tried but you don’t seem to know how.”. The room holds their breath, attention squarely on the two of you.

A beat of silence passes as you glare at him. You really could smack his annoyingly pretty face right now, but you shouldn’t - too many witnesses. 

“Now now, you two. Save it for the closet.” 

Ever the mediator, Geto ushers you two in the direction of the - very cramped - closet tucked into a corner of the room. 

Before you know it, the creak of the heavy wooden door rings in your ears as the door closes behind you. The loud click of a lock resonates, plunging you two into darkness. 

The muffled sounds of the party seem miles away as you try to focus on your breathing - trying not to let your mind drift to Gojo. You could feel the heat of his body, the ghost of his presence less than a foot away from you.

“So…” you flinch as Gojo’s voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You still alive and breathing after being trapped in a tiny closet with me?”

You huff, desperately wanting to break out of this closet, “Yes, but you probably won’t be if you don’t stay on your side.”

“This closet is barely a closet, there’s no ‘side’, sweetheart. And that’s my leg you’re resting on.”

You immediately scramble to move away from the warmth of Gojo’s leg that you’d been subconsciously leaning yours on. In the chaos, you probably did a bit more damage than solving. “Ah! Wait- watch the crown jewels, hardass.” 

You distance yourself as much as possible in the small space, knee burning where it had brushed up against Gojo’s that.

God, you were making a fool of yourself.

“As much as I like forceful women, you better take me out on a date first, sweetheart.” As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting filtering in through the slight crack of the door, you could make out that signature playful grin. 

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface. Gojo always knew how to get under your skin. 

“Don’t you worry your empty lil’ head, I wouldn’t fuck you even if I was paid.” you bite back.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “You sure about that, prez? I’ve been told that I’m irresistible.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, irresistibly hard to not smack.” 

“I always did like ‘em feisty. Makes our little debates all the more interesting.”

“Our debates would be a lot more interesting if you learned to keep that big mouth shut.”

“Oh? C’mon, prez, you love this ‘big mouth’. And you love the challenge. I see the way you look for me every time you answer one of Yaga’s questions, y’know.” Gojo murmurs, gaze piercing into yours.

He leans in closer - now definitely not on his side of the closet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it chemistry. Admit it and I might consider not calling you ‘hardass’ for a whole week.”

“What- That’s just because- I’d rather be called ‘hardass’ for a lifetime than admit to having any chemistry with you. I can’t even tolerate you for seven minutes here.” you sputter at both his proximity and his (absurd) accusations.

“As the student prez, isn’t your entire job to tolerate everyone? You’re a walking contradiction, sweetheart.”

“I am not. You have no effect on me.” you protest, standing firm. In the heat of your argument, you and Gojo have drawn closer to each other. His breath now fanning your face as he hums, voice a seductive tease, “I do, admit it. There’s a part of you that likes our chemistry.”

A defiant spark ignites in your eyes, “I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Then…hit me like I know you want to if you don’t want this.” he whispers, voice breathless. He closes the distance.

Gojo’s lips meet yours. 

Soft, they were so soft. 

Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to - to what? Smack him away? Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other subconsciously finding its way to his cloudy locks. Tugging. Kissing him back. 

Satoru kisses you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, he knows - he probably won’t.

Lips searing against yours, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste. Sweet - so sweet - just like candy, with a hint of Baileys and everything that he’ll never be able to have. 

A strangled groan leaves his throat when you bite down on his lips. Tugging with your teeth. Shit, fuck him and his bigass ego, he wanted to be the one showing off his irresistibility but really it’s the other way around. 

Mouth opening to let you in, he drinks in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Large hands on your face pulling you impossibly closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying - almost as if it hurt to part, drawn by that familiar magnetism that always seems to hang around you.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip - he doesn’t have enough time. He probably never will.

A hand rests firmly on your hips. Awaiting. Breaking away - just a fraction - he breathes out urgently into your lips, “I need to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

“Desperate, huh?”

Your gaze pierces through him, it always does. Immediately after your disoriented nod, he presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. God, he could do this forever.

You shudder as he hastily bunches your tight dress at your hips, sending blood rushing straight to his cock. Shit, this was not how he expected these 7 minutes to go.

Hurriedly falling to his knees, the pain doesn’t even register when he comes face-to-face with your clothed cunt. Panties already so wet - just for him. Cock twitching carnally, he needed to taste you now. 

Tongue flattening across your swollen folds through your underwear, just a slight taste of your wet pussy and Satoru already thinks he might pass out. Ah, so good - of course you taste heavenly.

“Ah! Gojo- more.”

Pulling away, he feels drunk off the whimper of disappointment that escapes your mouth. “Call me Satoru.” he hums, fingers deftly sliding your soaked panties down your legs. His hot breath fanning your entrance has you clenching your thighs together, desperate for any friction.

Mouth watering at this, Satoru curses the darkness inside the closet - can’t even admire your pretty pussy right. You flinch as his face meets your cunt. Shit, this was better than he’d ever imagined on those lonely nights pathetically fucking his fist.

He breathes you in so sinfully, tongue sliding teasingly between your folds in a leisurely rhythm that almost has him forgetting however many minutes you two have left. Frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either. Sinful squelches fill the confined space, along with your quiet moans of his name. 

“Hngh- S-Satoru. Feel s’good. Faster.” 

Ah, it’s really music to his ears. Your voice plays on repeat in his mind. He doesn’t even realize the call from outside until you look down at him, eyes dazed and kiss-bitten lips moving to panickedly mutter, “Satoru, we only have three more minutes.”

Ah, guess he’ll have to take his time in his dreams. 

“I only need two.” Satoru purrs, lips ghosting your wet core, voice sending goosebumps down your spine - all the way down to your dripping cunt. 

“W-well, stop hngh- running your mouth then.” you retort.

Satoru’s smirk against your plush folds is the last thing you see before he dives nose-deep in your pussy. He doesn’t waste time, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hah- yes! Satoru jus’ like that!” you hiss out, desperately trying to keep the moans ripping from your throat to a minimum, in fear of the others outside hearing. 

Noticing, Satoru snakes a hand up to your mouth - bullying his ringed-fingers in through your swollen lips. His index caresses your tongue, speeding up his movements on your pretty pussy as you gag around him. Moans catch in your throat as you struggle to accommodate him, the pleasure of being stretched from two ends too much. 

Satoru only has to take one look - tears clinging to your lashes and drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as you suck on his fingers - before he thinks he might just cum in his pants. Fuck, it was so lewd. 

You tighten your grasp on his hair, sure that your knees would give out if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he had on your hips, keeping you firmly on his mouth. Unable to run away. 

Shit, for someone so tight-laced, you were so messy on his mouth. He moans as your slick pools in his mouth, dripping down the corners of his lips. The  tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor rings deafeningly in his ears.

Ah, so this is why they call it 7 minutes in heaven. Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind dying if it was in between your legs being suffocated by your cunt. 

Your entrance clamps down desperately on his tongue, forcing him to bully it into your snug pussy, fucking you unrelentingly. His nose rubbing against your swollen clit over and over. 

At this point, Satoru doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or your cunt, throbbing and achingly needy for his mouth. His nose stimulates your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body that have you bucking into him for more.

Voice slightly muffled by his fingers, “Fuck- Satoru, keep going. Hngh- I’m gonna cum!” 

The way your walls desperately try to fuck his tongue has his cock straining so painfully against his trousers. Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt mercilessly, the harsh pace making you squeal and buck into his face. Your juices are now all over his mouth, gushing around his tongue. In and out in and out in and out-

“Satoru!”

You cum hard - all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Now, Satoru loves when you run your mouth and infuriate him, but he might just love it even more when you’re falling apart and speechless under his touch. 

Riding out your high on his features, you can feel yourself quivering around his tongue as he laps up your juices as if it were a delicacy. Deep moans leaving his mouth and vibrating across your soaked cunt, making you jolt at the overstimulation.

Pulling back, Satoru admires your unfocused eyes and bruised lips. “For someone that so fucking despises me, your slutty pussy sure is sucking me in so desperately.” he murmurs, slightly out of breath after what just transpired. 

“Sh-shut up.”

Ah, if only he got to see this view more often. 

You can’t help but feel the same way. Seeing Satoru fucked out, vibrant eyes half-lidded and blown out, your slick prettily glossing all over his mouth and nose. A small voice in the back of your mind wishes he was more like this and not whatever he is when he’s getting on your nerves.

“ONE MORE MINUTE! Finish up whatever devil’s tango or death match y’all are having in there!”

Those troublesome thoughts are pushed out of your mind as soon as you hear Shoko call from outside.

The bubble is broken. Jumping apart as far as possible in the cramped closet, you press yourself into the closet wall as you two wordlessly rush to make yourselves slightly more presentable. The air, once charged with overflowing tension and sex, now so strained.

Bending down to feel for the panties that Satoru- no, Gojo had thrown god-knows-where, your hands graze his - still slightly wet with your spit. Snatching your hands back as if it burned, you make out Gojo’s figure pocketing something.

…

Your panties??

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, face burning at both his actions and the idea of going outside without panties.

“Just think of it as repayment for the fun.” he hums, mirth spilling into his tone. And before you could snap at his antics, Shoko is ripping the door open and looking around the closet for what you can only assume to be missing body parts and blood.

“Aw, man. And here I was thinking Satoru would be six feet under by now.” she groans, walking off disappointedly - for which you were eternally grateful otherwise she’d have seen the few suspicious stains on the floor.

“Remember, you owe me twenty, Shoko.” Geto speaks up from the circle. Were they…betting on whether you and Gojo would kill each other in there?

Finally stepping out of that godforsaken closet, you catch the smirks and raised eyebrows from some of the people from the group.

Meeting Gojo’s eye, a smirk curls around his swollen lip as he swipes a thumb across it. Agonizingly slow. Teasing. 

Your cheeks flare, something pooling in your stomach. Ugh, this is why you hate frat parties.

“You alright, man? You look…flushed?” you hear Geto question, pointedly staring at Satoru’s slightly disheveled look.

It was all getting too much - the alcohol in the air, the thumping of the overplayed pop music, and him. You felt so lightheaded. Ripping your gaze from Gojo’s you leave without so much as a goodbye to him, only stopping for a reassuring nod at Haibara. You make a beeline for the exit, dashing out of there and down the winding staircase as fast as you could. 

Focused on navigating the packed party, you almost don’t register Gojo rushing after you. Ignoring whatever words were tumbling out of Gojo’s mouth, you silently thank the sorority that had just pulled up - clinging onto him in greeting, making it impossible to follow after you. 

The cool night air washes over you as you finally step outside. You sigh in relief as you leave the chaotic sounds of the party - and him - behind. 

Impatiently waiting for your friend on the way to pick you up, only two thoughts echo in your mind.

He actually only needed two minutes.

What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back in that heady room, Shoko nudges Suguru, the latter still watching in amusement where Satoru had run after you in the door. “Hm?” he asks, absent-mindedly.

“Why do most of these papers have Satoru’s name?”

---

You pass through the next morning in a daze. The hardest part was probably trying to get dressed without making eye contact with the purple finger marks on your hips that Sato- Gojo had left to remember him by.

You still can’t believe that happened. 

It’s alright, it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment - you just have to forget it ever happened, right? But that’s easier said than done when your last class of the day is Advanced Quantum Physics.

Cursing your timetable, you step through the crowded campus. You pull your sweater tighter around yourself, the fabric doing nothing to stop your skin searing where Gojo’s lips had been just last night.

Alright, you just had to get through this one class today. There’s a lot of people in Professor Yaga’s class - it’s not like you’ll necessarily see that bane of your existence-

“Yooo prez, fate just seems to bring us together hmm?” 

Gojo almost topples out of his chair, waving in your direction. As your eyes sweep across the room, you can feel your heart sinking. Shit, you really feel like you’re being Punk’d right now. 

Cursing whoever was up there for this cruel joke, you make your way to the desk beside Satoru’s - the only empty one. 

Slumping down onto the chair with a frustrated huff, you sink into yourself - eyes trained firmly forward and ignoring the playful grin in your peripheral vision.

To your surprise, Gojo doesn’t say a word throughout the lecture. Not a single comment about fucking any professor’s wife - or your cunt. Huh, did last night cause some type of qi deviation or something?

As Professor Yaga drones on about quantum entanglement, you find the words going in one ear and out the other, too focused on wondering what Gojo’s game was.

It’s only towards the end of the lecture, at the introduction of some new assignment that you find yourself finally letting your guard down. Okay, see, it wasn’t too bad. Now time to go back to your apartment and study whatever quantum entanglement was for the next five hours.

“Ah- And remember, the midterm assignment pairings are posted on Canvas.” 

What was that?

God, you hated working with other people. It was much more efficient for you to stay in and finish this paper in one sitting.

“So, partner~ My place or yours?”

What?

The bell rings, its metallic chime resonating in your mind almost as loud as Gojo’s words. Signaling the end of class - and probably the end of your sanity. 

You wish the ground would swallow you up at this very moment. These days have really not been your days.

---

“Literally what do you bring to the table?”

“Comedic relief and my undeniably good looks.”

“...”

“...and also the case study and background information.”

The air at the stuffy café just off-campus was a mixture of freshly ground coffee and hushed conversations - of course, occasionally disrupted by the chaotic debates that erupted from your little booth.

Not too long ago, as everyone moved to file out of the classroom, you were frozen, glaring at your open laptop so intensely you half-expected it to combust - scrutinizing the neat arrangement of Gojo’s name next to your own over a million times.  

Finally sighing in defeat, you nodded in surrender at Gojo - who was whooping in victory. But, you were still adamant on meeting somewhere in public. The last time you two were left alone ended up…interesting. 

“Then you do that and I’ll take care of the rest of the theoretical analysis and evaluation. Okay, sounds good, Gojo.” you deadpan, rubbing the sides of your forehead in frustration. 

“Ouch, no Satoru?”

Ignoring his comment, you promptly slam your laptop closed, gathering your things with a determined sigh. Ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cafe. “So you do that and put it on the doc, and I’ll do the same with my parts. See ya.”

That’s when you feel a large hand covering yours - the same one from- “Hey there now, hardass, stay a little longer - gotta make sure you don’t slander quantum entanglement in our essay the same way you do with the Pilot-Wave theory.” Gojo interrupts your intrusive train of thought. 

“What? Unlike you, I don’t slander any scientific theories. Although, I do think the idea of entangled particles jumping around like you do is hardly the hallmark of a stable scientific theory.” you retort, face burning but setting down your bag nonetheless.

Resting his face on his hands, he grins at you. “Oh yeah? I think stability is overrated, prez. Quantum entanglement challenges you because it’s a realm where your precious stability crumbles in the face of non-local correlations.”

God, was he glad he begged on his knees to Yaga to pair you two together. He was having way too much fun with this. 

“Just because particles can communicate faster than you can comprehend doesn't mean we should abandon reason.” you raise a brow. 

“Well, I think you should just embrace the uncertainty, sweetheart. Life is a game of chance, just like quantum entanglement.”

“Oh, really?” you drone out, sarcastically. 

“Yeah, think about it. For instance, I never thought I’d still be alive and breathing after last night. But here I am.” at your stunned silence, he continues. “I for sure thought you’d have the coffin ready as soon as I kissed y-”

You panickedly place your hands over his mouth to shut him up, those blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “When I said you had a big mouth I really wasn’t lying, huh.” 

Slowly removing your hands once it seemed like Gojo wouldn’t spill your endeavors in this family-friendly cafe, you sigh, “Okay- We’ll get some shit done today, alright. But this is the last time I’m meeting with you for this.”

“Mhm~ You got it, prez.”

It was not the last time you met with Gojo for this. 

Nor was it the second-last.

Or the third-last. 

Each and every time you two worked together on the assignment, you’d spend more time bickering about anything ranging from what you’d learned in Professor Yaga’s class that day to whether the old lady who frequented the café was a part of the mafia. 

“I’m telling you, she handles those knitting needles like they’re a weapon.”

“Mhm and she sips her Earl Grey like she’s plotting espionage. Now, get to work before I use my teaspoon as a weapon.”

“I’d rather investigate her than this damn Qiskit simulation.”

“Sure, Gojo. I’ll add her to our list of groundbreaking research projects.”

“Don’t come crying to me when I rub it in your face once we see her on the news as a mafia queenpin, prez.”

You’re pretty sure the café employees have a love-hate relationship with you and Gojo - too lively to be one of their favorite regulars, but arguments too amusing to kick you two out. 

And as for your relationship with Gojo…well. It’s not as if you can’t go 7 minutes without being somewhat civil, and yet that’s exactly the issue, isn’t it?

After what had happened that night, it feels as if there’s something charging the air whenever you two are together.

You chalk it up to just lingering tension, but that still doesn’t explain the way Gojo’s eyes hold a warm twinkle whenever he looks at you - gaze a little too warm than you’d expect a rival to have. But it’s fine, you just have to ace this assignment and then this strange dynamic can go back to normal.

It’s only towards the end of your assignment that you realize how wrong you really were.

---

Out of breath and darting across campus towards where you knew Gojo was waiting, you half-wish you joined the track team instead of the student government. Damn student reps, can’t keep proper archives.

As much as you got a kick out of getting on Gojo’s nerves, you hated to keep anyone waiting.

“Ah! Prez! Was heartbroken thinking you’d stood me up, y’know?” Satoru calls once he spots you bolting towards him on that dimly-lit pathway. Wow, maybe you should’ve joined the track team.

You trip. Ah, maybe not.

Feet automatically hastening your way, he catches you. Well, more like you fall into his arms.

“Just in time, huh?” he chuckles, thankful for the sun dipping below the horizon - otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Arms wrapped around your waist and supporting your waist, Satoru almost coos at the surprised look gracing your face. You always did something to his heart.

Hastily distancing himself from you once you stand on your own, he rambles - anything to drown out the banging of his heart against his chest. “So, I’m assuming you were out there doing all your president-ly duties?” 

“Ah! Yes, I’m so sorry, the meeting ran overtime and-” 

Listening to you rant, Satoru thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. He’s only snapped out his reverie at your disappointed groan. Oh, what was this? He didn’t even realize his feet had carried him to the little café already. 

Ripping his eyes from you, he turns to what moping at. A sign with red writing is plastered over the very locked café entrance - Sorry! Staff training today, hope to see you tomorrow!

“Seems like everyone’s got meetings today.” he hears you grumble. Satoru knows it isn’t right, but his heart leaps slightly at the chance to get to know you outside of that familiar cafe.

You, meanwhile, felt tension - and something else - pooling in your stomach. Shit, if the sanctuary of your café is no longer available…

“Well, we could just go home and finish off the paper by ourselves. It’s only the last bit anyway.” you suggest, voice slightly shaky at the idea and anticipation of actually being alone with Gojo after so long. 

“But Suguru’s such a loud snorer, I’d never get any work done.” Gojo whines. Well, there goes that plan.

“The library?”

“I hear it’s haunted this time of year.” he answers right away. 

“Ghosts are seasonal?” you ask absent-mindedly, too focused on weighing between the need to finish this assignment today and the uncertainty of what would happen between you and Gojo.

A tense silence fills the slowly darkening street as you go through all your options. Finally, watching the long shadows casted now, you sigh. “Fine. We’ll go to my place.” you mutter out. 

“Would you get angry if I celebrated right now?”

“Maybe.”

The walk to your apartment is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It was almost peaceful - if it weren’t for Gojo’s excited chattering about god-knows-what. 

Your mind was running a million miles a minute. Was something like last time going to happen? Were you a lecher for expecting it? Why didn’t you mind the thought as much as you think you should?

You risk a glance at Satoru, who was in the middle of a passionate speech about how ketchup was a valid condiment on pasta. Soft sunlight paints his hair an amber hue, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features, eyes sparkling with passion and mischief. He was beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

“Hey isn’t this your apartment building or is walking past it a pre-entrance ritual?” 

Ah. Whoops.

You snap out of those ridiculous notions, gathering whatever dignity you have left to walk back to the apartment complex you’d left in the dust while wrapped up in your thoughts.

“Oooo, didn’t take you for much of a decorator, hardass.” Gojo comments, flitting about your cozy apartment to look at all the little knick-knacks and pictures 

“Did you really think I lived in some sterile lab?” you retort. Gojo’s almost-endearing curiosity amuses you enough to let go of the electricity thrumming through your body at having him so close. In your home. 

“Well, I expected more beakers and fewer fairy lights, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be offended. “Believe it or not, Gojo, hardasses can have a sense of style, too.”

He continues his exploration, stopping in front of a photo on the wall. “Who’s this model?” he grins, pointing at a picture of you in stuffy formal attire at some conference.

You sigh, knowing exactly which photo he's referring to. “That, Gojo, is me at a conference presenting a groundbreaking research paper.”

“Groundbreaking, huh? Is that what they call it these days?” he hums, arching an eyebrow playfully. 

“Yes, and six feet under is what they’ll be calling you if you don’t get your ass here and finish this paper.”

“...yes, prez.”

Writing the conclusion and inserting citations is always the fun part. If you could write an essay on whatever you want, it would be only conclusions and citations, you think.

After a few hours of working on your paper, apparently Gojo does not feel the same way.

“Fuck Noodletools. All my homies hate Noodletools.”

“This is why you only have two friends, Gojo.”

“Hey! I’m a very likable person, y’know.” 

“...”

He sets his laptop down leaning closer to you over where he was seated opposite you on the coffee table, clearly bored of citations for the time being. “Also, aren’t we friends, sweetheart? Technically I have three.”

You raise a brow, this was the first time Satoru had ever addressed the strange dynamic you two had. “Are we?” you ask, genuinely. 

A deafening silence envelopes your living room. This was the first time you’d seen such a serious expression take over Gojo’s face as he answers, voice even, “I’m not sure.”

The atmosphere thickens with a charged tension, the weight of Gojo’s words lingering in the room. A spark flickers in his eyes. You feel like you could almost get whiplash from the contrast between the heated banter to where you two were now. Was it always so hot in this room?

You let out a strained laugh, attempting to diffuse the seriousness and go back to a trivial territory you were more familiar with. “I never thought the great Gojo Satoru would be uncertain about something.” Your eyes flicker unwillingly from his intense gaze to his worry-bitten lips.

The mischief returning to his gleaming eyes, he smirks “Uncertainty can be thrilling, don't you think, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what to say to that - and you don’t have to. Because before you can respond, Gojo swiftly leans over the coffee table - catching your lips in a sudden, electrifying kiss. 

Time stands still. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that you didn’t want to push him away. At all. In fact, you grab a fistful of his soft locks, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss. 

Pulling away mere millimeters, Gojo’s hot breath fanning your mouth as he whispers, “Told you the uncertainty is thrilling, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” you grumble, irritated because his lips ghosting yours was not enough.

Before you know it, Gojo has you pinned against the plush couch. His lips finding your, the kiss deepening as he yearns for that desperate connection - as if each breath depends on smothering you with dizzying kisses. 

The room seems to shrink, right now only filled with the heated exchange of breaths and the feeling of Satoru’s lips searing into yours. 

You think he tastes like caramel and uncertainty - yet, this time, you fall into the unknown with open arms. Wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your arms around his broad shoulders - bringing him to you so close you’d think the laws of physics were taking a coffee break.

It almost hurt. 

The intensity of the moment only growing, the atmosphere in your homey apartment crackles with a tension that you knew in the back of your mind had been building for so long - ever since that party.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. You knew this would happen.

And a part of you needed it to.

His fingers trace a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat - you shudder, craving for more. 

“Gojo, I want you.” you breathe out, words muffled by Satoru sucking sinfully on your lips. 

He pulls away slightly, delicate strings of saliva still connecting him to you. Every fiber of his being resisting to part.

“Don’t call me that.” he purrs out, the intensity of his half-lidded stare sending a jolt straight down to your heated core. “It’s Satoru when we’re fucking, remember?”

Looking into his sultry eyes, for the first time ever you decide to heed what Satoru says. “S-Satoru, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up to meet his own. You can feel the large outline of his achingly hard cock straining against those stupidly overpriced trousers, pussy quivering in anticipation. 

Now, there have been three times in his life that Satoru thinks he has died and gone to heaven. The first being when he discovered that the ramen joint by his dorm also had free Wi-Fi. Second, that first day in Advanced Quantum Physics when you snapped at him told him to shut the fuck up. 

And finally, right now, as he’s got you needy and squirming underneath him - such pretty gasps of his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips. 

God, navigating quantum physics is a walk in the park in comparison to what you put his heart through. 

“Hmm, never in my life thought I’d see his view, sweetheart.” he whispers lowly into your ear, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt along your alluring body. How did he get so lucky?

Hastily pulling down your shorts, his mouth waters at your wet panties. Another prize for him, hm? Throwing them along with your panties to god-knows-where, Satoru drinks in the sight of your bare pussy - a privilege that he didn’t get in that godforsaken closet. 

Ah, so ready and dripping for him already. Your slick glistens out of your heated entrance as you clench around nothing. “Aww, they’ve faded.” he whines, heart lurching at the lack of his marks from last time.

It’s alright, he can just make more.

Not one to waste time, with a bruising grip holding your hips steady, Satoru grinds his painfully hard cock into your needy cunt, savoring the pretty mewls that leave your mouth. The way your swollen pussy quivers against him makes him throw his head back, seeing stars already. 

Nipping along your neck, leaving marks he knows you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. “Sit on m’face,” he murmurs into your skin.

“W-what?”

Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, Satoru breathes you in. Fuck, he prefers the smell of your skin to any scent in the world. “Sit- on- my- face.” he repeats, words punctuated with erotic kisses to your hardened nipples, tongue flicking them through the fabric of your clothes. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” you gasp. Yet, still shifting on that cramped couch. Why do you two always fuck in the most inconvenient places?

Satoru’s legs hang off the end of your couch as he lays on his back, you’d almost find the position funny - if it weren’t for you straddling his head. 

His hot breath on your wet cunt sends waves of electricity though your entire body as you hover over his mouth. Your needy pussy right above where his mouth is, hesitating. Your slick oozes slowly through your swollen folds - drip! drip! drip! onto his awaiting tongue, brows furrowing and eyes rolling to the back of his head at your sweet juices.

“Mhm, and I hope that you’ll be the death of me.” he hums, tongue savoring your taste.

It’s the last thing said before Satoru surges forward, plunging mouth-first into your heated cunt. 

Despite not being on a time crunch this time, Satoru doesn’t waste a moment teasing - he already has you splayed out and aching for him, what more could he want?

He bullies his tongue into your snug cunt, pushing past the first ring of muscle. You twitch around him, sweet moans spilling incessantly from your mouth. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru! Fuck s’good.”

Your sounds of pleasure going straight to his dick, he bucks into your hands. Ah, more. He needs your touch more. 

The feeling of your plush walls clamping down on him only spurs him on further, fucking you at a ruthless pace. One hand gropes across your body, resting a thumb on your clit that rubs tight circles, making you grind down further into his mouth. 

“Your pussy is so honest, sweetheart. She wants me so badly.” he murmurs, voice sending vibrations that make you let out a loud moan which he suspects your neighbors would be complaining about. 

You were so perfect for him, Satoru thinks he might go insane.

You were definitely going insane.

Satoru shows no mercy, his abuse on your dripping cunt only speeding up at every buck of your hips into his tongue. It felt so fucking good. 

Closing your eyes, his pressure on your core has you seeing spots behind your vision. You could feel the curl of his signature smirk against your folds as your pussy tries sucking him back in at every thrust. Too good to let him go. “Knew you loved this ‘big mouth’, hardass.” he murmurs. 

Shit, you can’t be the only one acting so needy like this.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Satoru drawls, voice muffled by your cunt as he feels the breeze of his lower abdomen hitting the heady air of your living room.

“Payback.” is all you mutter out as you fumble his trousers down his long legs. Curse these gyms. Curse squats. Why did he have to be so perfectly sculpted? An Adonis in his true form. 

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as his boxers come into view - rock-hard cock straining painfully against it A patch of pre-cum pools at his head - he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Hands shaky from the way Satoru’s incessant tongue was fucking into you, you shuffle his boxers down. 

Satoru’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. Fuck- how the hell were you supposed to take him? Life was really unfortunate - water was wet, and Gojo Satoru has a huge dick.

“S-sweetheart, you don’t have to-” he murmurs against your swollen pussy. 

From all your times shutting up Gojo Satoru, this one might just be your favorite. 

His words catch desperately in his throat as you spit out a pool of saliva onto Satoru’s furiously flushed head. A low hiss leaving him as you teasingly lick his sensitive slit. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, Satoru attaches his lips with yours once more. He groans lowly into you, the stimulation making you yelp in surprise. 

“So, it’s like that, huh?” 

Satoru doesn’t have the time to ponder your words before you take in as much of his length as you can in one go. “Ah! Hah- Oh fuck, prez. Always knew you were a forceful woman.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste of his precum. Gagging around him, drool drips down the corner of your mouth as you try to take him in inch by fucking inch. It was so fucking messy.

Diving nose-deep in your cunt once again, Satoru continues the merciless pace of his tongue once more. Both your muffled moans fill the heated room, lost in the pleasure and the heat of the moment.

Shit, you knew by the way your walls clenched down on his tongue that you weren’t gonna last long. And judging by the urgent twitching of Satoru’s cock - he wasn’t going to either. 

He fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth, your eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat. Ropes of spit and precum decorate your lips. Even the staunch part of you that never backs down for anyone cheers at being so used. It’s so fucking debauched.

Your hand moves down to massage his heavy balls, tugging and pulling at a rhythm that matches the rapid ministrations of his thumb on your swollen clit.

Mind spinning and pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming as you both lean closer and closer to your highs. With a final mewl around his thick cock, your juices are gushing all around Satoru’s mouth. 

Your mind blanks as you cum, the only things registering being the tingles of your oversensitive pussy as Satoru rides you through your high on his tongue and the taste of Satoru as he cums in hot spurts in your mouth. Salty, with a hint of sweet - the flavor making your pussy twitch.

Fucking his seed into you, your mouth milks his cock. His cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth, all thoughts of dirtying your couch go out your brain when you hear the fucked out whines at the back of Satoru’s throat.

Fuck a refractory period, you wanted to hear that more.

You remove yourself from him with a lewd pop! Cum flowing smoothly down your throat, you lock eyes with Satoru over your shoulder. His jaw drops, pupils blown lustfully as your tongue sticks out - showing the way you’ve swallowed every single drop of his seed.

“Now, Satoru. I need you to fuck me with yours cock just as you did with your tongue.” your words still strained from your orgasm.

Wordlessly, Satoru nods, eyes shining - still reeling from the sinful sight of your bruised lips glossy with his cum - his cum that you swallowed as if it was a delicacy.

Meanwhile you were thinking that you should fuck Satoru more if it meant you got him to shut up and be pretty more often. 

Slightly more clear-headed now, just as lustful. 

Your couch creaks in protest as you shift positions to face Satoru once more. He seizes your lips in a passionate kiss, mouth attacking yours with a desperation for your essence.

Your head spins as you taste yourselves on each other, words tumbling out of your mouth in the haze, “Satoru, bed- now.”

But when has he not challenged you?

“Mhm, anything you say, prez.” he whispers raspily against your lips, still-hard cock teasingly dragging along your swollen folds. 

“Satoru.”

“Fuck yes. Say m’name, sweetheart.” he groans out, throwing his head back against the armrest. Your slick pools all over Satoru’s thick head, dripping sensually down his length to where he gripped tightly at the base. 

Swollen lips dropping into a small “oh”, he slides a ringed hand up his member, spreading your juices. Cock twitching carnally at the way your pussy was leaking all over him, he grits out, “Need to feel you around my cock now, sweetheart.”

So he does.

Thick head pressing into your tight entrance, a low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully tight you were. Fuck, he could just about pass out right now.

“S’tight, sweetheart. So good.” he fucks up into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips - impatience quickly waning. You yelp at each thrust, walls burning with the stretch of Satoru’s thick head. 

You try to steady yourself as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. In the midst of it all you still manage to impatiently slur out, “I-if you’re gonna fuck me then hah- fuck me like you mean it, Satoru.”

Oh, that did it.

Your words make the last bit of sanity Satoru had left snap. 

In a swift movement, he sheaths his throbbing erection in your wet cunt completely. A gasp gets caught in his throat at the way your walls were clamping down on him in surprise. 

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and a dangerously predatory glint in them that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck me like I mean it, huh? You’re quite bossy, y’know that, prez?”

Before you can retort - and probably dig your grave deeper - he stands up in one fluid motion, your legs around his waist and cock still buried deep in your snug pussy. You moan at the change in angle, his tip now kissing your cervix so deliciously painfully. Shit, you feel so full. 

Hands moving down to grope your ass firmly and support your weight, he grins lowly in your ear, “You’re lucky I love that part of you.”

The wall is cold as Satoru shoves your back against it. his body making the air leave your lungs as he presses into yours, ramming into you at a merciless pace. Your tight cunt clenches so tightly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving. 

Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy. His lips capture yours once again in a rough dance that matches the cadence of his hips.

You mewl against his mouth at the feeling of his heavy balls stinging your skin as they smack your ass. The power behind each harsh thrust has you bouncing against the wall, legs pulling tighter around his toned waist to bully his cock impossibly deeper in you. 

“Where- fuck! Where’s the bed?” he moans breathlessly against your lips, voice sounding as if each thrust of his pulsing cock into your plush walls sends him spiraling deeper into insanity.

“Down- down the hallway. Hngh- fuck, Satoru!” you not far behind.

Your mind is foggy, barely even registering as Satoru moves blindly towards your bedroom with powerful strides - not yet pulling out of you.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s got you sprawled over your bedroom floor, your carpet digging into you as his cock slams into your abused cunt with that feral pace he loves so much. Not even making it to the bed.

“Ah! Hah- Satoru, what happened to the bed?” you sputter out in-between uncontrollable moans. 

“Too far. Hngh- need you now.” he answers around your breasts, teasing and tweaking your sensitive nipples.

“Wh-who’s irresistible now?” you manage to smirk, relishing in the huff of laughter that escapes him. Even now, you always did manage to one-up him.

“Mhm, you’ve always been irresistible, sweetheart.” he mutters, moving to press a chaste kiss against your forehead, not sure whether the words were even meant for you to hear. 

And you know it’s just pussy-drunk talk, but right now you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, heartbeat ringing in your ears. 

Not sure how to respond to that, you pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his burning face in the crook of your neck. Maybe right now neither of you needed to speak, your bodies doing enough talking as Satoru continues his relentless cadence.

Your hips bucking up to meet his, you whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room as Satoru moves down a hand to draw rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. It was all too much. “S-Satoru.”

“Me too, my sweetheart. Me too.” is all he gasps out, teeth digging into your neck at the pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Satoru’s tight balls twitch as they smack your ass, cock glistening with cum and slick. He sees stars behind his eyes - or maybe those were tears at the overstimulation. He really doesn’t know anymore. 

Head spinning and thoughts racing with only Satoru Satoru Satoru, you’re very much in the same state. 

“Satoru?” you whine out, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You pull him into an intense kiss, pussy clamping down on him desperately as his lips brand yours - it sends you both over the edge. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums, and you were probably an angel. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your walls white, cunt quivering around him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forms around his base as he fucks his seed into you desperately, marking you so obviously as his. All thoughts of Plan B run out of your mind at the overstimulated whimpers leaving Satoru’s ruby lips.

His dick twitches inside you as his unforgiving thrusts slow down to shallow grinds of his hips, nothing more than to keep his cum inside of you as your highs bate.

Body collapsing onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight, Satoru pulls you closer to him. And despite everything that happened this evening, he thinks that this might be what makes his ears burn red the most. Your body so vulnerably connected with his own. Just the two of you in this quiet world.

The silence feels intimate and fragile. Brain still hazy from your orgasms, you don’t think you’ve ever quite looked at your bedroom ceiling from his angle. 

Strangely enough, Satoru’s warm weight on you feels comforting. Neither of you speak now. Nor do you speak when Satoru carries you to bed, searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe you clean with. 

It’s only when he lingers at the foot of your bed - uncertain - that the silence is broken. “Get in, stupid.” you scoff, opening the covers invitingly.

Of course, an elated smile overtaking his face, Satoru jumps in your bed with enough force to send you both bouncing. It was childish. It was so ridiculous. It had you barking out a surprised laugh at his antics.

In your joy, you don’t even realize that Satoru has stopped moving - frozen, smile slipping off his face and staring at you with an unknown spark in his eyes. 

“What?” you question, feeling strangely self-conscious. 

White locks tousling as he shakes his head, he breathes, “It’s the first time I’ve made you laugh.” The words hang in the delicate atmosphere, tension so thick you think it could snap any moment.

You hide your face in your hands, palms clammy. “You- you make me sound like some sort of evil witch.” you stammer out, embarrassment pooling in your gut. The tension in the air dissipates, yet the intensity in Satoru’s gaze remains.

Satoru understands, smiling blindingly. He pulls your naked body to his, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist as you both bury into the covers. “Well, more of a hardass than an evil witch.”

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You still have to finish your citations.”

A/N. Can be read as a standalone BUT part 2 planned for next longfic Sunday!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[lxnarphase]

g. satoru who is a massive pervert and constantly whines for you to let him touch you all the time, even when you're both around others. you've lost count of how many times he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, his warm hands slipping under your shirt while sitting next to g. suguru, who's attention is no longer on the tv.

'he doesn't mind,' satoru always comforts you, grinning into the skin of your neck. 'sugu's my best friend, he knows i can't help but touch you, baby.'

best friend or not, that doesn't explain how you always ended up with your legs spread open wide in satoru's lap, your jeans and panties discarded somewhere on the floor as suguru kisses all over your thighs. the two of them talk like you aren't even there, as if you aren't growing wetter as each second passes.

"satoru," suguru purrs, his fingers running up and down your soft lips, parting them open to watch slick slowly drip out of you. "you must be doing something else to her. i've never seen it get wet so quickly." the way he speaks so calmly makes you dizzy. it's unfair, so fucking unfair how calm and collected suguru is when he's inches away from your pussy, those pretty purple eyes focused on it.

"yeah? 's wet?" it's also unfair how riled up it gets satoru, seeing his pretty baby getting shy because his best friend is rubbing his fingers up and down her slick folds. "she's so messy, isn't she? she's the prettiest little pussy," he coos into your ear. that gets a chuckle from suguru, his eyes finally looking at you. "always the one to talk to the pussy and not about it, aren't you, satoru?"

his fingers finally focus on your clit, rubbing little circles into it. both you and satoru look pretty from this angle, suguru notices. the pure need and shyness on your face paired with that manic desperation on satoru's...it's a perfect picture, one he wants saved forever. maybe next time you'll let him take some pictures...after all, he needs a new background for his phone.

"c'mooon, sugu...give her a kiss? c'mon, c'mon, give that cunt a kiss, tell me how sticky 'n' wet she is," satoru fucking begs, acting as if he's the one spread open and dripping. but you second the thought, giving suguru the prettiest little puppy eyes.

"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.

"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"

"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."

"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."

"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"

"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...

but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.

"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."

suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.

it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.

"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."

reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.

"f-fuck, she's dripping..."

"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"

his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.

"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."

"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.

"c'mon, c'mon, kiss it, suguru, make it messy for the both of us. mmh, fuck, listen to you making out with her pussy, s' wet and sticky, isn't it? oohmygod, both of you sound so good, she's gonna cum, sugu, she's gonna cum in your mouth...fuck, i love you both so much, can't wait to see you both fucking each other."

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[kateschi]

between bites and blushes

synopsis: class 1-a speculates about your secret relationship. as the teasing continues, a small slip reveals the truth, leaving everyone stunned—and katsuki annoyed.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

class 1-a buzzes with speculation as you sit among your classmates in the common room, a warm lunch spread out before you.

whispers ripple through the table, each voice eager to share their theories about your love life. you smile, pretending not to notice the heightened interest.

“who do you think y/n is dating?” kirishima asks, leaning forward with a bright smile. “I mean, she’s been acting kind of secretive lately.”

“yeah, and she never talks about him,” kaminari adds, his eyes wide with curiosity. “it’s gotta be someone from a different class, right?”

midoriya furrows his eyebrows. “maybe it’s someone in class 1-b? I’ve seen her talking to some of them during training.”

you chuckle softly to yourself. you’ve been keeping your relationship with katsuki under wraps, wanting to enjoy it without the pressure of everyone’s scrutiny.

as if sensing their curiosity, katsuki sits down beside you, his presence immediate and commanding. he slams his tray on the table, causing a small shake, and grabs his bowl of spicy ramen.

“what are you losers even yammering about?” he asks.

“oh, just talking about y/n’s mystery boyfriend!” kaminari blurts out, his grin mischievous. “you know, the one she’s too secretive to talk about!”

katsuki narrows his eyes, looking between you and kaminari, as if he’s weighing how much to care. you can’t help but smile at the situation.

“you guys should really focus on your training instead of my dating life,” you say lightly, enjoying the way katsuki shifts slightly in his seat, the faintest hint of annoyance crossing his features.

after a few minutes of banter, katsuki pushes his ramen aside to make room for dessert—an assortment of mochi he’d been saving.

you watch as kaminari, with his usual absent-mindedness, leans over to grab a spoonful of katsuki’s ramen while katsuki’s attention is diverted.

“hey, what are you doing?” you call out, but it’s too late.

kaminari shovels the food into his mouth, a blissful look on his face. the moment he registers what he’s just done, his eyes widen in horror. “uh, oh...”

katsuki whips around, his expression darkening as he realizes his precious ramen has been tampered with. “hey! what the hell did you just do?” he roars, a vein in his forehead twitching with irritation.

kaminari’s face pales. “I-I thought it was just a taste! it looked really good!”

“looks good? you think that gives you the right to just take my food?” katsuki yells, rising from his seat, quirk already sparking at his fingertips.

the common room goes silent, all eyes glued to the impending chaos. kirishima grabs kaminari’s arm, pulling him back instinctively. “dude, you might want to apologize before he goes off!”

kaminari stammers, “I-I’m sorry! it was an accident!”

katsuki marches over, and in a flurry of furious energy, he pushes kaminari back, delivering a quick, sharp punch to his shoulder. “next time, ask before you eat something that isn’t yours, you dumbass!”

the rest of the class watches in a mix of awe and nervousness as kaminari scrambles to defend himself, stumbling back to his seat, where he winces in exaggerated pain.

“man, you really care about your food, huh?” kirishima laughs nervously, though the humor is tinged with apprehension. “I wouldn’t want to be on your bad side!”

katsuki grumbles something unintelligible, his gaze shifting back to you. you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation.

days pass, and the class is still buzzing with excitement over kaminari’s mishap. speculation over your love life continues to swirl, but you remain tight-lipped, enjoying the mystery and the quiet joy of your relationship with katsuki.

then, one day, as you sit in the common room with katsuki, you eye his leftovers sitting on the coffee table. he’s absorbed in a training video, and you can’t resist the temptation.

you reach over and take a bite of his remaining ramen, savoring the rich flavors.

katsuki glances over. “y/n,” he warns.

you flash him a playful grin. “just having a little taste! you don’t mind, do you?”

his expression softens slightly, and he shakes his head. “if you’re hungry then just tell me, so I can make you more.”

you grin, warmth flooding through you at his casual offer. “aww, you’d do that?”

“of course! just don’t go stealing my food like some idiot,” he replies, crossing his arms, but there’s a softness in his tone that makes you smile.

just then, the rest of class 1-a filters into the room, their curious eyes darting between you and katsuki.

kaminari, still nursing his bruised pride, can’t help but speak up. “so, you’re not gonna beat her up for eating your food?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

katsuki looks at him, utterly perplexed. “what kind of jackass beats up his girlfriend?” he retorts, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance.

a heavy silence descends over the room, the weight of his words hanging in the air. your classmates exchange stunned glances, eyes wide with disbelief.

the realization hits them like a wave, each one processing the implication of katsuki's casual admission.

“oh, that’s why you’ve been in a good mood lately—” midoriya blurts out, his eyes going wide with understanding.

katsuki’s face flushes, and he instinctively pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as if to shield you from their astonished gazes.

“stay out of our business!” he yells, then he points at midoriya, “especially you!”

the room erupts into a flurry of shocked voices, each member of class 1-a grappling with the sudden revelation. uraraka’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “wait, you guys are actually together?!”

kirishima’s grin grows even wider, and he nudges katsuki’s arm playfully. “dude, that’s awesome! I didn’t see that coming!”

you can’t help but laugh at the chaos, your heart swelling with affection for katsuki. you think that that nobody is noticing that katsuki’s hands are crackling, and that his eyes are picking his targets.

you figure that you won’t tell them, since, hey, good chaos is healthy every once in a while.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[snoopyracing]

champagne coast // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 19k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use

includes: friends to lovers, summer!lando, clueless reader and lando, pining, fluff, and a little angst

summary: when lando and you spend summer break together you don't expect italy to eventually hold such a special place in your heart... or lando and you go on vacation and everyone keeps thinking you're a couple.

playlist for the fic: spotify | apple music

masterlist

─── ༺❀༻ ───

It was the Monday before the Belgium Grand Prix when Lando asked – what are you doing for summer break?

The sun had started to set over the coast, its golden reflection rippling across the water and onto the balcony of Lando’s Monaco apartment. The same balcony that the two of you currently resided on, choosing to share the wicker couch instead of one of you sitting in one of the empty chairs.

You were sat sideways on the couch with your legs crossed, your view consisting more of Lando than the picturesque sunset over the sea. A cheap bottle of pink moscato, which was your favorite, was sitting on the table where Lando had his feet propped up.

He’d always complain about how sweet it was, but then drink more of it than you. In all reality, he’d actually grown to love it because of you, but he’d never tell you that. He’d only been able to find it at one place in Monaco, so when he knew you were coming to visit he always made sure to have a couple bottles on hand and maybe a bottle for himself when he was missing you.

Your eyes met his as you processed his question. This right now was your summer vacation. He surely knew that, right? “Summer break? I don’t have a summer break like you do, Lando.” It was true, you had barely managed to get this week off from work to be able to go to Belgium, let alone have a month off. “I figured me being here for a couple days then going to Belgium would be my vacation.”

A disapproving sigh escapes past his lips as he speaks. “That is not a vacation.”

“Well it sure as hell beats being stuck at an office in London.”

He downed the remainder of the wine in his glass and fully turned his body towards you. His arm resting across the back of the couch, his fingers nearly touching you. “I think you should come with me on vacation.”

You stifle a groan by taking a drink of your wine. “Lando, you know I don’t do Ibiza. It's not my kind of place, especially this time of year.” It was a beautiful place no doubt, but the big party scene was not your favorite. And the couple times you had gone with Lando and your shared friend group it was so chaotic and you had a hangover that lasted for what seemed like a week. So no– Ibiza and you weren’t the best of friends.

“Who said anything about Ibiza?” He’s got a smirk toying at the corners of his lips, you can tell by the way his upper lip twitches slightly. Not that you stare at his lips that much to be able to notice that kind of thing.

“Lando Norris not going to Ibiza during his summer break? Should I alert the press? Did you hit your head? Are you running a fever?” You lean forward to check his temperature, but he playfully swatted away your hand with a giggle before you could get close enough. “Have you broken the news to Fewt-”

That smirk had fully developed across his face as he cut you off. “Who said anything about Max?”

Now you really thought that he’d bumped his head or was slightly tipsy already. You cocked an eyebrow at him in question. “Where are you going then? Especially without Max?”

Lando leaned back, the wicker creaking beneath him, but his eyes were still trained on you. Golden hour had made them even more blue, resembling the crystal blue water that was just a short walk away. “I’m going wherever you want to go.”

“Lando.”

“Y/N.” He’s the one to cock an eyebrow now.

“I can’t go with you.”

His smirk had turned into a pout and he knew how to work those big blue eyes, especially on you. “Why not? Wherever you want to go– we will go. Not many people get that opportunity Y/N.”

You go to take another drink and realize your glass is empty, but before you can reach for the bottle Lando’s already got it in his hands, reaching over slightly to pour you another glass. “Who all is going then if Max isn’t going?”

He sets the bottle back down on the table, hesitating for a moment before speaking. You two are close, probably the closest friend he has compared to Max, but he worries that you won’t be up for what he’s about to suggest. “It would just be me and you.”

You feel your cheeks get hot at his proposal, but you shake it off, blaming it on the wine.

As much as the idea of Lando and you going on a trip together sounds amazing, you just don’t think you can make it work. You live a normal life and being able to just go on lavish trips at the drop of a hat is not something you get to experience, no matter how much Lando wants you to or you would like to.

“I would love to Lan, but I don't think I could get the time off again.” Your finger nervously circles the rim of the wine glass as you contemplate even bringing your other reason up. Mainly because you know what his answer will be, but against your better judgment you take another swig of the wine as liquid courage before telling him the embarrassing truth. “I also just can’t afford it.”

And without skipping a beat he blurts out. “I’ll pay.” You’re immediately shaking your head no, but before you can verbally deny his offer he’s speaking again “Seriously Y/N. I will pay. It’s not a big deal.”

Except him paying your way for this trip is a big deal. Just how it’s a big deal everytime you come and visit him in Monaco and he insists that you don’t spend a dime while you’re here. It’s bad enough that you stay at his place, let alone have him pay for your dinner every night. Or how he is always offering to fly you out to races on your free weekends. Or insisting that the random gifts he gives you don’t cost that much, like you can’t read the designer labels on the boxes or labels.

It makes you feel bad that you can’t offer the same back to him. The constant worry that he might think you are using him for his money makes your stomach hurt because it’s the last thing you’d ever do. He’s one of the most giving and kindest people you know and to be able to call him your best friend is something you treasure. And you truly hope he knows how much you appreciate everything he does for you, but how could he not when you tell him every chance you get.

“Lando, really I cannot let you pay for me to go on vacation. It’s one thing to let me crash at your apartment and for you to get me passes to races, which I appreciate more than you will ever know. But I draw the line at a whole vacation. I don’t want to seem like a freeloader who is using you, that’s honestly the la-”

“Oh my god will you just let me spoil you!” Lando had enough of your endless rambling. Your need to always try and decline his gifts or offerings until he convinces you that you are worthy of them drives him crazy. To Lando there isn’t a person on Earth who deserves everything and more than you. And the fact that he can afford to give you anything you’d ever want tickles him pink. Hell if it was possible, he’d buy you the whole damn universe, even if you hadn’t asked for it.

“I hate that you think– that I would think you’re using me. Never in a million years would I think that. You mean a lot to me Y/N, truly. You’re one the most important people in my life and you deserve everything and more that I give you. If I thought you were using me, I would not be asking you to go on vacation with me, believe me. I love having you around and with us not seeing each other like we used to, I figured a trip with just the two of us would be nice.”

He pauses for a moment as he scoots a little closer to you on the couch, your legs touching as the glow from the sun envelopes around you two. “Now please don’t try and worm your way out of this trip. I’ve missed you so much and if you don’t end up going I think you’re just gonna have to move in with me.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, but try not to let his heartfelt words get to your head. “How would I even get the time off work again? Tell them ‘Oh my famous F1 driver best friend wants to take me on a trip. Can I please have some more time off?’ I don’t think that would work.”

“Well I think it would work. Especially if you add in that I’m super hot.”

The giggles that come from you lets you know that you’ve drank your fair share of wine for the evening. “Oh I don’t think they would ever tell me no If I added that in.”

“If they do say no then just quit and I’ll get you a job somehow with McLaren or Quadrant or something. I just really want to go on this trip with you.”

You aren’t sure if it's the wine in your system or the fact that you want nothing more right now than to spend a week with Lando in some beautiful country, without a care in the world. But you ignore every responsible and logical part of you and tell him what he wants to hear.

“Alright. So where are we going then?”

His eyes light up and the smile that spreads across his face is comparable to that first win smile. “That’s all up to you baby.”

Both of your hearts skip a beat at the term of endearment that came from him. His because he can’t believe he let it slip and yours because you can’t believe he called you that so easily. But you both ignore it and you focus on the one place you’d had on your mind since he mentioned taking a trip.

“Italy?” You suggest with a hopeful smile on your face.

He fills up his glass with the last of the fruit juice like wine and holds it up towards you, your glasses clinking together in a toast. “Italy it is then.”

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Six days later an email notification pops up on your phone as you’re sitting in McLaren’s hospitality, talking with Lando’s Mom. You glance at who it’s from, not wanting to be rude and get on your phone mid conversation, but when you see your boss’s contact you can’t help but open it. “I’m sorry, it’s from work.” Cisca waved you off, the conversation had only consisted of why they couldn’t stock better snacks in hospitality, and she knew if work was emailing you on a Sunday it had to be important.

You had emailed them Monday night requesting the time off and when they hadn’t responded by Friday you figured they were denying it. Or firing you for requesting more time off while currently being on a vacation. So to be getting this email on a Sunday had you worried, but as your eyes scanned the email you couldn’t hold back the excitement. By some higher power unbestowed to you, they had granted you the time off.

“Never seen someone so excited over an email from work.” Cisca teased.

“Yeah. Honestly thought I was getting fired, but they approved my time off for the Italy trip Lando and I are taking.” You leaned back in the chair, relief finally washing over you.

“Just the two of you?” Cisca had her suspicions about her son’s feelings towards you and your feelings towards him. She’d secretly hoped the two of you would end up together the first time she met you years ago. She honestly thought you were his girlfriend that day and was surprised when he introduced you as his friend. Then she thought maybe he was hiding your relationship because she had never known her son to bring around a female friend like he had you.

You had attended family dinners, a couple holidays, races, and so many other things that just didn’t seem normal to bring a friend to. They had become so accustomed to you being around that when he finally said that he was bringing home his girlfriend for everyone to meet and you didn’t walk through the door— everyone was a little shell shocked. The relationship didn’t last long and she had her theories as to why. To Cisca there was just no way the two of you didn’t have feelings for eachother, she could see it plain as day, and it drove her crazy that the two of you didn’t see it.

“Yeah. At first I thought he was asking me to go to Ibiza again with everyone and you know me, it’s not my thing. But then he said we could go anywhere I wanted and that it was just me and him, so I chose Italy.” You gathered your things, eager to tell Lando the good news before race time. “You raised a good man, Cisca. I couldn’t ask for a better person in my life than him.”

There’s a smile on her face as she watches you talk about Lando, how your smile never falters and how that twinkle in your eye seems to get brighter the more you talk about him. “Thank you honey. You had better go tell him, hadn’t you?”

“I’ll be back!”

Thankfully Lando’s not that hard to find, he’s in the garage looking over some data on the monitors with Will when you spot him. You stand back out of the way, waiting until he’s done, but as soon as he turns to walk away you’re racing towards him. Your arms flinging around him from behind and you can feel him tense under you, but when he hears your laughter his muscles relax.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Lando asks as he turns around to face you, his hands lingering on your hips.

“Hmmm. It may have something to do with work approving my time off.”

That same smile from the other night finds its way onto his face and he’s pulling you into his arms, the two of you swaying back and forth as he nuzzles his head into your neck. “I knew they would approve it, it was meant to be.” His voice tickles your neck as he speaks causing a giggle to escape past your lips.

“Can’t believe we get to spend a week together in Italy.” You state as he releases you from his grip.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, still not sure that he wouldn’t rather be going to Ibiza with his friends.”You’re sure you’re not gonna miss Ibiza?”

His fingers toy with the hem of your shirt as he speaks– his blue eyes boring into yours. “I’d miss you more if I went.” And there isn’t a single ounce of doubt in his words. If he ended up going to Ibiza without you, he’d be at a club wondering what you were doing. Eventually downing one too many shots to try and numb that annoying ache in his chest that forms when you aren’t around. The one that even with you around this week, he had felt occasionally at the idea of you not being able to go to Italy.

The idea of him spending his summer break back in England had crossed his mind a couple times, especially if that meant he got to spend time with you. Luckily though fate was on his side today and he wouldn’t have to deal with that ache for the foreseeable future.

You can feel the slight blush on your cheeks as you process what Lando had said to you and you pray he doesn’t notice it. Just him simply saying he’d miss you if he went to Ibiza should not have you blushing, but here recently it seemed like that was all he could do was make you blush.

A familiar Australian accent hits your ears and around the corner comes Oscar, his hand clamping down on Lando’s shoulder as he comes up behind him. “Y/N. Haven’t seen you in awhile.” His bunny teeth showing as he flashes you a smile.

Your mouth barely opens to speak before Lando’s speaking for you. “I know. She’s been too busy working back in London to come see her favorite person.”

“I’m really such a horrible friend. I’m so sorry Oscar, I really should make more time to see you. In fact, how’s Australia this time of year? I think I might come visit you.” The playful smirk on your face and Oscar’s laugh does nothing to tell Lando that you’re just joking and like a little kid he’s got his arms crossed across his chest with a slight pout on his face.

“Um. I think I’m your favorite person Y/N. Plus you can’t even go to Australia because we are going to Italy.”

Oscar and you can’t help but laugh at Lando’s dramatics, but Oscar wants to tease Lando even further. He knows how his older teammate feels about you, even if Lando won’t give the idea any time of day when Oscar brings it up. Lando had confided in Oscar about his idea to take you on a trip, but Oscar didn’t think he’d actually go through with it. “Italy? Who’s all going? Maybe Lily and I could tag along?”

Lando’s eyes widen at Oscar’s suggestion, mainly because he knows you’d jump at any opportunity to spend time with Lily and this trip was meant to be just for the two of you. “It’s just gonna be me and Y/N…” He trials off, trying to figure out how to nicely tell Oscar that he can’t come.

“There's a month between Singapore and Austin. We should all plan something for then.” You chime in. As much as you would love to spend time with Oscar and Lily, you really want to have this trip just be Lando and you.

Lando’s surprised at you turning down Oscar’s suggestion, but smiles and nods towards Oscar, agreeing with your idea. “Yeah that sounds like a good idea.” Oscar states, a small smirk on his face as he eyes the two of you, fully knowing that you’ll come back from Italy together. And if you don’t Oscar thinks he may have to knock some sense into his teammate.

The driver’s parade was set to start soon, so you tell Oscar you’ll see him around and give Lando a hug, knowing you won’t see him again until after the race. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Be safe and good luck.”

Lando’s grip on you lingers, not wanting to fully let you go just yet, but when they get the final warning that it’s time to go he reluctantly frees you. A small frown on his face as he heads towards the track and you go back to hospitality.

The two McLaren drivers stood side by side on the flatbed of the moving truck, smiles on their faces as they waved at the fans in the grandstands. “Never seen two friends like you and Y/N go on a trip together– alone.” Oscar’s voice is low, there’s an interview going on to his left, but he’s loud enough that Lando can hear him.

Lando keeps looking straight forward as he speaks. “Don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I think you fully know what I mean.”

Max, who was on the other side of Lando, had been eavesdropping the whole time, and couldn’t help but put his two cents in. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about. I just want to say, do us all a favor and finally tell her how you feel.”

Lando shook his head at the two drivers. You two were just very close best friends, there wasn’t anything he needed to admit to you. It was just a trip that two best friends were going on and there was nothing more to it– right?

─── ༺❀༻ ───

A week and a half later your plane touches down in Naples and even though the flight from London is only around three hours you want nothing more than to just get to the hotel and relax.

The Uber ride from the airport to the hotel thankfully doesn’t take long and you have no issue with sitting down in the lobby of the hotel with all the luggage while Lando checks you two in. You do notice that it’s taking quite a long time for Lando to check in and as you glance up from your phone towards the reception desk you see him talking with the worker and showing her something on his phone. Then with a sigh and a shake of his head he turns on his heel back towards you.

“Everything alright?” You ask.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and grabs his suitcase. “I booked us a two bedroom suite and they told me that all they have available is a one bedroom. Even though I showed them the booking on my phone, someone is already in it. So, I’ll just take the couch and you can have the bed.”

This place was fancy, and Lando had undoubtedly paid a pretty penny for the two nights that you were staying here. You would have thought they would have comped the room or something for their mistake. But by the displeased look on his face it didn’t seem they offered him anything but a sorry for the inconvenience.

Even with the hotel screwing up the room, the one you end up with is amazing and as you enter the room your jaw drops slightly at it. You set your bags down and explore the room further, taking in all the beautiful artwork on the walls and the natural light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. You enter a door to your left and it’s the bedroom, which is even better than the main room, mainly because of the huge balcony that overlooks the sea.

There’s a gentle breeze in the air as you lean against the railing, taking in the view and the hustle and bustle from the surrounding area.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Lando’s voice makes you jump, you were so lost in your own little world you didn’t even hear him come out onto the balcony. You nod your head in agreement as he slots himself beside you, mimicking your actions of leaning on the railing. “And it’s not even the best part of our trip.”

“You know you didn’t have to get such a nice room, we are only in Naples for two days.” As much as you try not to feel guilty about him paying for all of this, you do.

“And what did I say a couple weeks ago?”

A groan emits from you as you remember his words to you in Monaco. “You said to let you spoil me.”

“Exactly. I just want you to enjoy yourself and stop worrying about how much everything costs. We are here to relax and have fun, which means figuring out what we want to do tonight.”

You ponder your endless options and all you really want to do is sit on this balcony and enjoy the view, but your stomach growling tells you maybe dinner would be a good idea first. “We are in Italy– how about getting some pizza and then just come back here and relax?” Lando agrees and while you’re freshening up he looks up good pizza places within walking distance.

You two are just about ready to leave when there's a knock on the door, followed by room service!

A confused look is shared between you two, but when Lando looks through the peephole there stands a worker with a room service cart. He opens the door and is greeted with a smile from the employee.

“From the hotel as an apology about the room.” The employee hands Lando an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne nestled in it. “Have a nice rest of your stay.”

Lando looks back at you with an amused look on his face as the guy quickly leaves, the wheels of the cart squeaking as he hurries down the hall. “Well, we have something to drink on the balcony later.” Lando states as he sets the bucket down on the coffee table.

“Champagne and pizza? No thanks.” You see there’s a card attached to the bottle and as you open the envelope and read the words written, your cheeks turn scarlet.

“What does it say?” Lando questions, moving to stand behind you so he can read it too. His eyes scan the letter and he soon finds himself in the same state as you. He clears his throat as he steps back, suddenly feeling too close to you at the moment.

to the happy couple,

we are so deeply sorry about the mix up with rooms and we hope you can accept our apologies. we’ve sent a bottle of the finest champagne that you can get in naples and have comped any room service you may order during your stay. as always if you need anything please don’t hesitate to call the front desk and once again we sincerely apologize for our mistake. we hope you enjoy your stay here and the city of naples.

The letter isn’t spoken about, actually what you two were addressed as isn’t spoken about, but you both agree that their actions were nice. The walk to the pizza place is quiet, the both of you occasionally pointing out things that you think are interesting or pretty, but both of your minds are preoccupied with being mistaken for a couple. Anyone else would have laughed it off, but clearly not the two of you.

By the time you’re back at the hotel and sat on the balcony with the pizza and champagne your conversation had returned to normal. You teasing Lando about not even drinking the glass he had poured for himself and him complaining about you insisting that you get a pizza that has peppers on it.

“You know what would make this evening even better?” The pizza is long gone and the two of you are sat admiring the painting in the sky left behind from the sun.

“Some pink moscato?” There’s a grin on his face as he says it. If there’s one thing he knows you love, it’s a glass of pink moscato on a balcony with a view.

You try to hide the smile on your face as you glance over at him, but he’s caught you. “You know me too well Norris.”

“Should’ve told that employee that we wanted a ten dollar bottle of wine instead of that champagne.” Lando jokes.

“Thought you didn’t like it? That it was too sweet?”

He shuffles slightly in his seat, fully knowing that you’d caught on to his facade. “I may have grown to love it.” He admits quietly.

You’d known for a while, but hearing him say it was much more satisfying. “Yeah. Kinda figured it out last year when you started drinking more of it than me.”

Nighttime draws near and once you start yawning, so does Lando, and after the fourth round of yawning Lando states that it’s time for bed. The subject the two of you hadn’t discussed any further than what was said in the lobby earlier. The guilt started to eat at you as you brushed your teeth, he’d invited you and is paying for everything and he doesn’t even get to sleep in a bed? What kind of friend were you?

Lando was making the couch up as you walked out of the bathroom and for this being a luxury hotel that couch looked stiff and seemed to be more for show than actual comfort. He already had a bad back and it looked like sleeping on that couch was going to have him trying to find a chiropractor tomorrow instead of sightseeing. “Lan. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He doesn’t even look back at you, still occupied with trying to make the couch somewhat comfortable. “No. I’ll be fine. You take the bed.”

“Lando.”

“Y/N.”

“Lando, look at me.” You knew he wasn’t going to budge with the whole couch thing, so you thought of the next best thing. The two of you sharing the bed. It was plenty big and truly it shouldn’t be that big of a deal if you two shared it. You were grown adults and bestfriends, no one should have to sleep on the couch.

His focus tears away from the couch and over to you, who’s already in bed and under the covers. “Look at how big this bed is.” Your body extends over to the other side trying to show him just how big the bed is. “Just sleep in the bed with me, there is plenty of room.”

Your offer takes him by surprise and he stills for a moment, he’d love nothing more than to climb into that bed right now, but a part of his brain is telling him not to. And he’s about ready to tell you no once again until he makes eye contact with you. Those damn eyes of yours could be used in interrogation rooms across the world, one look into them and he’s crumbling like a poorly built sandcastle. The gentle pat on the empty side of the bed is what flattens the sandcastle and he’s mumbling out an okay before sliding under the sheets next to you.

The two of you don’t know what to do for a moment, both still and flat on your backs under the sheets, like if you moved an inch the gremlin under the bed was going to get you. But eventually Lando turns on his side, mumbling out a goodnight as he pulls the comforter closer to him. You take his actions as a sign for you to roll over too and you figured that falling asleep wouldn’t be an issue after all the yawning earlier, but you were wrong. You tried counting sheep, tried laying on your back, tried anything you could think of to fall asleep and nothing worked. It wasn’t like there was a major time difference between here and London, it was literally only an hour, so unfortunately jet lag could not be to blame.

Lando hadn’t moved the whole time and you figured he fell asleep as soon as he turned over, but you were bored and going a little crazy because even though you were tired, you couldn’t fall asleep. “Lando.” You whispered, but got no response. “Lando. Are you awake?” You whisper a little louder this time, but still no response. So with a defeated sigh you roll back over and shut your eyes, praying that this time you can go to sleep. But within a matter of seconds you feel the bed shift and Lando’s voice echoing through the room.

“I’m awake.”

You roll back over— the two of you now facing each other. “Why didn’t you answer me a minute ago?”

“I was trying to go to sleep myself.”

“Oh sorry. I’ll go out to the other room and watch some TV or something.” You barely move an inch before Lando’s got his fingers wrapped around your forearm, gently pulling you back towards him.

“No, don't leave.”

You can feel your heartbeat quickening as you realize just how close the two of you are. The glow from the moon cascades through the balcony doors allowing you to make out the moles on his face and those pretty long eyelashes of his that make his already breathtaking eyes seem even more beautiful. Sometimes you think he has stars in his eyes from the way that they sparkle. And as the two of you lay here right now, you realize the only reason that the moonlight is flooding into the room is because she’s looking for her lost stars that have found a home in Lando’s eyes.

“You got any ideas on how to fall asleep? I’ve tried just about everything in the book.” For some reason you're whispering and you wonder if it’s from how close you are to Lando’s face or how suddenly nervous you are to be this close to Lando.

He’s silent for a moment, the logical and sane part of him screaming at him to not even suggest what he’s been thinking about ever since climbing under these sheets. The mere idea of it being the thing that had prevented him from being fast asleep by now. But he’s got you at literal fingertips length and he thinks there may not be another opportunity like this again. So– he acts with his heart and not his brain.

“Come here.” He’s moved onto his back with his arm outstretched towards you.

“Huh?” You know exactly what he’s insinuating, but you can’t actually believe that he is.

“You wanted an idea on how to fall asleep and this is my idea. I’ll get you to fall asleep in no time.

“You think us cuddling is gonna get me to fall asleep?” You definitely hadn’t wondered what it would be like to be wrapped up in Lando’s arms before. How it would feel to have his fingertips trance mindless patterns across your skin or have your head on his chest. He was your best friend, which meant those thoughts had never crossed your mind– right?

He shrugs, trying to hide the nervousness in his demeanor, the mere thought of you denying him right now was enough to have him on the next flight back to Monaco in the morning. He should have never put himself in this situation, but god as soon as he climbed into this bed all he wanted to do was have you wrapped up in his arms.

It had consumed his brain, and then consumed it even more because why was he having this desire to have such a tender moment with his best friend? Though his brain stops spiraling when he feels the bed shift and you’re suddenly tucking yourself into his side, arm slung over his torso, and your head laying on his chest. The same chest that his heart is about ready to beat out of and he prays you can’t hear how hard it’s working.

But as you both get settled and Lando’s heartbeat finally mellows out he realizes just how right this feels, like the two of you were matching puzzle pieces. Any other girl he had cuddled with before now seemed to feel wrong because as far as he was concerned, nothing felt better than this. It felt natural and easy and he found himself drawing absent minded patterns on your side where your shirt had bunched up.

He’d spend the rest of his life here in this moment with you if he could. And when he hears your slight snores something short circuits in his brain and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head mumbling out goodnight before he’s out like a light too. The moonlight blanketing over the two of you, who right now look more like lovers than best friends.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

The next morning you’re already up and ready for the day by the time Lando wakes up and he tries to hide the disappointment of not waking up next to you, already missing the feeling of having you so close. A feeling though nice, he knew it was one that he probably shouldn’t be feeling. He asks you if you slept well while he’s getting ready and you tell him yes, not going into very much detail, for your own sake and his.

The day is full of sightseeing and lots of walking, which is something that Lando likes to complain about. You visit Pompeii and a handful of other places for you and Lando to nerd out about and truly be tourists. You eat amazing food that Lando says his trainer will hate him for, but he justifies it with the excuse of being on vacation. Hundreds of pictures were taken, your phones already begging for more storage and it was only the first day of the trip. Lando even went as far as bringing an actual camera, stating that lando.jpg would be revived soon.

But in between the sightseeing, eating, and everything else– both of your brains immediately go back to the sleeping arrangements from last night. You both can’t stop thinking about it, but no one brings it up, almost like it’s something you should be ashamed of. No one wants to admit how right it felt to be in eachothers arms last night or how both of you probably had the best sleep of your lives.

You didn’t want to admit that when you woke up this morning to Lando spooning you, your stomach was doing flips over the realization that you had moved in the middle of the night and he had found his way back to you. So many thoughts and emotions running through your brains, yet you both think it’s better to just act like it's not a big deal.

Night falls once again and Lando crawls into bed next to you. You’re both absolutely spent after the eventful day you’ve had and Lando worries that you won’t need him to fall asleep, but his worries soon dissipate because you’re tucking yourself into his side as soon as he’s gotten himself comfortable. You’re like a moth to a flame– the consequences of these actions never even enter your mind as slowly feel yourself drifting off to sleep.

And when morning comes you don’t run away when you feel Lando’s arms around you, even with the butterflies making an appearance again. You enjoy your moment alone, the sun shining in through the windows, the sound of the city already alive, and the way Lando looks as he sleeps. It's truly a beautiful morning.

He wakes up not too long after you and there’s a funny feeling in his chest when he realizes that he’s gotten to wake up with you still in his arms. That you were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. It all just feels so natural and right, that once again no words are spoken about this very non-platonic thing that is happening between you two.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

“We’ve got a little bit a drive ahead of us today.” Lando states as he comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Water droplets are scattered across his tan skin, his damp curls falling slightly onto his forehead. You’re trying not to stare, but good lord how could anyone not.

“It’s only like an hour.” You're still sitting in bed, propped up against the headboard as you now watch him rummage through his suitcase.

He holds up a shirt and shorts, silently asking for your opinion. You give him a nod of approval and he heads back to the bathroom to get dressed, but he leaves the door slightly cracked so he can still talk to you. “Yeah it was an hour. I’ve canceled the driver and made some new plans for today.”

“New plans?” You raise your voice slightly so he can hear you.

“It’s a surprise.” He peeks his head around the slightly open door— a mischievous smile painted across his face, before disappearing behind it once more. “So you had better start getting ready.” He commands as the door fully opens, revealing a fully dressed Lando.

A few short moments later a domestic scene plays out in the bathroom mirror. The double sinks both occupied, various hair products, makeup, and other random items are scattered across the counter. You’re watching Lando through the mirror as he tries to wrangle the mop of curls on his head, but everytime you look away he’s watching you brush your teeth or do your skincare. And the occasional times your eyes do meet in the mirror you’re both like little kids, eyes immediately darting away with smiles on your faces and little giggles echoing through the bathroom.

“You gonna tell me what the surprise is?” Patience had never been your strong suit and thus knowing about surprises was like a form of torture to you.

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?” He’s still screwing with his hair, but he’s looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh come on, just tell me. Pretty pretty please?” You’ve come up behind him, your chin resting on his shoulder as you flash your best puppy dog eyes at him through the mirror. And for a split second Lando almost cracks– those puppy dog eyes working on him better than you would have ever thought.

“The faster we pack everything up, the faster you get the surprise.” He’s shocked his words come out smoothly, his brain still foggy from your pretty eyes and close contact.

Ten minutes later you’re walking out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, where Lando tells you to wait while he goes outside for a moment. You assume the surprise is outside and so you try to peek and see what’s out there, but he’s coming back in before you can get a good look.

“Alright let’s go.”

You don’t see anything that you would consider surprise worthy as you walk out the doors, but then Lando leads you towards the cars parked outside the hotel and stops in front of a vintage yellow Ferrari. Your eyes dart back and forth between Lando and the car, unsure if he was just stopping to admire it or if you were going to be riding in it. He answers your unasked question by opening the passenger side door, motioning for you to get in.

“Is this the surprise? Where did you even get this car from?” Your eyes widening over the car itself and the fact that he’d gone through the trouble of even finding the car.

“It’s part of the surprise-” He’s got a smirk on his face as he speaks “and I have my connections.” He motions once again for you to get into the car and this time you don’t oblige. The leather seat soft under your legs as you sit down, the car was surely close to 60 years old, yet still looked brand new.

Lando puts the luggage in the trunk while you're examining all of the car’s little quirks and details while you wait.

“Ok, you ready?” Lando asks as he gets in the driver's seat.

“Gonna tell me the other part of the surprise?”

He sighs, he wanted you to figure it out on your own, but you were so persistent sometimes. “You know how you’ve always talked about wanting to drive along the coast of Italy?” You nod, a smile already forming on your face as you realize what he’s planned for you. “Well, instead of just taking the straight shot over, we’re gonna take the long way all along the Amalfi coast. And I figured it was only fitting that we do it in a Ferrari, considering we are in Italy after all.”

You can’t wipe the smile off your face as you stare at Lando from the passenger seat. Sometimes you wondered if he was even listening to you when you spoke, but then he pulls stuff like this and you know that he’s always listening– remembering things that you care about or like. “God, I don’t deserve you.”

Thankfully the car is still parked because you’re pulling Lando into a bone crushing hug, your cheek smushed up against the side of his head, a giggle emitting from him as he tries to hug you back.

“When you told me your work approved the time off, I knew for sure that this was one thing that I wanted to make happen. That same night I was online trying to find a car to rent for the day, but then I saw this one for sale…” His words trail off and your jaw drops at the realization, but in all reality you know it’s a very Lando thing to do.

“And now we’re sitting in your newest baby?”

He’s got a sheepish look on his face as he speaks. “As soon as I saw it I knew it was the perfect car for this. Plus it’s the ultimate vacation souvenir!”

“You’re crazy.” He actually couldn’t be more perfect.

“Yeah, but you love me.” He teases as he starts the engine.

“Unfortunately.”

─── ༺❀༻ ───

The long winding road along the coast provided scenery that was beyond your wildest dreams. It was serene and picturesque– like something straight out of a movie. The bright blue water on one side of the road and the white stone mountains on the other. The various tunnels that somehow had even more breathtaking views on the other side of them. The handful of towns that you had to drive through, each of them more charming than the last, you only wished you had enough time to stay a week in all of them.

As simple as this was, you would have been more than content with this trip if you went home tomorrow, not that you wanted to, it was just that sometimes the simple things in life meant more than anything lavish to you. You weren’t hard to please, all you needed was Lando singing along to some song on the radio, beautiful scenery, and the wind blowing in your hair for you to be the happiest girl in the world right now.

The whole trip your attention was divided between the coastal beauty and the beauty in the driver's seat. You couldn’t help but glance over ever so often at Lando, especially when you’d hear him start to sing along to a song. He just looked so ethereal sitting next to you, one hand on the steering wheel– the other resting between you two.

There was a moment where you felt the sudden urge to reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, a moment of insanity you’d thought. It surely had nothing to do with how sunkissed he looked from only being in the sun one day, or how the wind had made his curls the perfect amount of messy, or how you’d catch him looking over at you with a smile on his face.

If only you knew that Lando had been fighting the urge to reach out and grab your hand too. He’d never seen you so ecstatic over something as simple as going for a drive, but he’d drive this car till he ran out of road or gas, whichever came first, just to see that smile of yours. The way your eyes sparkled in the sunlight and how you giggled at his singing was just an added bonus, but all of them made his chest feel funny. He’d been around the world more times than he could count, seen so many breathtaking places, but right now none of those places compared to the beauty that was sitting next to him in this car.

You’re in your own little world so much that you don’t even realize you’ve made it to your destination until Lando’s putting the car in park in front of a very luxurious looking villa. “We’ve arrived.” Lando states in a sing-song voice.

“Is this when you tell me Max and everyone else are actually coming too?” You question, flabbergasted over the size of the house. And you can tell what he’s thinking just by his facial expression. “Lando this place is huge just for the two of us.”

He rolls his eyes before getting out of the car to get luggage. “It’s actually a lot smaller than you think.”

When you step foot into the two story villa it immediately has that Mediterranean coast charm with intricate tile floors, artwork that adorns the walls, and windows with the most gorgeous views– needles to say you’re in love.

Then you take in just how big the place is with it’s one too many bedrooms and bathrooms and various other rooms that you probably won’t even use. Lando’s words echo in your head as you explore the house some more, and there’s nothing small about this place at all. “You’re such a liar Lan.” Your words are playful as you walk through one of the many french doors in the house that leads out to the back.

“Lie? I would nev-”

“Oh my god!” He’s cut off by you realizing that the backyard of this villa is nothing shy of paradise. A massive pergola covered part of the back of the house with vibrant bougainvillea lining the top and hanging down the sides. Various other flowers and plants are scattered strategically around the area. Under the pergola there's an outdoor kitchen and a large glass dining table, clearly meant to host a group of people, not two. Further out there’s a pool with sunbeds lined down one side of it– a poolside bar on the other.

All of these things are great, but the real show stopper is the view that this place has. From the front of the house you can’t really tell just how close you are to the water, but from out back it’s a completely different view. There’s a separate sitting area slightly further out from the pool. It’s got a little pergola of its own with couches and chairs and one of those fancy rock fire pits and that is where you get the best view.

It’s like something out of a nature documentary– it’s so perfect that it almost seems fake. The sea is so close that you can hear the waves crashing against the rocks and it’s just endless bright blue water for days. You thought the view in Naples was pretty, but this was breathtaking.

“Knew you’d love this place.” Lando states as he comes up beside you, acting like he hadn’t been lingering behind you the whole time, admiring the view (you) from afar.

It was true though, Lando knew as soon as he saw this place online that it was the one. It didn’t matter that he paid an astronomical amount for it or that the house was way too big for just the two of you. All it took was for him to see the view to know you’d be the happiest girl in the world here.

He could picture you two sitting out here in the evening, watching the sun set over the coast, undoubtedly with a bottle of pink moscato. You’d end up drinking one too many glasses and your cheeks would get red and you’d get the giggles.

As Lando stood here– eyes never leaving the beautiful scene in front of him. He can’t help but feel that funny feeling in his chest over how radiant and happy you look. And he thinks that if this house was for sale he’d buy it in a heartbeat, if that meant he got to see you like this all the time.

A smile finds its way onto your face as you glance over at the guy you call your best friend. “You weren’t lying when you said you were gonna spoil me, huh?” You gently nudge him with your elbow, your smile growing even bigger at his response.

“Only the best for my favorite person.” His smile is equally as big as you lean your head on his shoulder and in that moment he thinks that maybe the reserve driver could just finish out the season and he could just stay here with you.

That night as you both head to your rooms there’s an obvious tension in the air. You’re both slowly making your ascent up the stairs and lingering in the hall, trying to milk every last second until you inevitably have to go into your separate rooms.

After so long though, you’re the first to cave as your hand reaches for the doorknob. Your door creaks open and you’re mumbling out goodnight lan, i’ll see you in the morning before entering the room. Although you don’t close the door behind you and Lando takes that as an invitation to linger in your doorway. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know he’s there, you can feel his presence, and subconsciously you’ve left that door open for him.

“Goodnight Y/N.” You’ve got your back turned to him as you're digging through your suitcase for pajamas, but you can hear the slight grin he has on his face as he speaks.

The sight of Lando as you turn around has butterflies erupting in your stomach and it makes you feel weird to be feeling those things about your best friend. He’s leaned up against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and that grin that you’d sensed him having was still on his face as he looked at you. Your eyes scanned over him, focusing on little details like his hair still being wind tousled and how the tops of his cheeks were slightly burnt from the car ride today.

And for someone who claimed to not need a ton of sleep– he looked so sleepy as the two of you locked eyes. Those big blue eyes slowly blinking and drooping ever so slightly as his head now too rested against the door frame. He still donned the hoodie that you teased him about putting on earlier after his claims of it being chilly once the sun set, only adding to the sleepy look he had going on right now.

Someone had never looked so cozy and you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. You will tell him goodnight again and he’ll close the door behind him before shuffling over to his room. Your mind will be preoccupied with him as you get ready for bed, the image of him in your doorway forever burned into your mind as you brush your teeth. As you crawl into bed you won’t think about how cold the sheets feel or how you want to be cuddled up to your best friend. You won’t think about how it’s been two hours that you’ve laid here and sleep has yet to greet you. And you certainly won’t think about how you’d be fast asleep right now if Lando was beside you.

But unfortunately you do think about all those things and you’ve exhausted every resource to try and distract you from it. It was different at the hotel when there was only one bed, but now with multiple bedrooms to choose from there was no reason for the two of you to sleep in the same bed. Lines were already blurring between you two without either of you knowing it and if you chose to go seek solace with Lando then those lines would blur even more.

But you didn’t know that your actions would eventually have consequences and seconds later you’re throwing the covers off of you with only one destination in mind– Lando’s room. The journey though, is short lived because as soon as you open your door you’re met with a wide eyed Lando, his fist frozen in the air like he was getting ready to knock on your door.

The frozen fist moves to rubbing the back of his neck as he speaks to you. “Sorry, was coming to see if you were still awake.”

“I was coming to see if you were up too.” He’s still got that hoodie on from earlier, but you noticed he’d changed out his shorts for boxers. His hair was even more messy and you’d wondered if he had even fallen asleep yet. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Lando shrugs. “Not really– kept tossing and turning.” He acts like the reason he can’t go to sleep isn’t right in front of him as he rests his head on the familiar door frame.

“Yeah I can tell by your hair.” You tease. He just gives you a half assed smile and when he doesn’t tease you back that’s when you realize just how tired he is. “You want to watch some TV or something? ”

He shakes his head no. The only thing he wants to do is go to sleep, but how can he when you’re not next to him? It was embarrassing to admit that only after two nights of sharing the same bed that he couldn’t sleep on his own, but here he was. His big bed felt too empty and he realized that even if he slept in a twin sized bed it would still feel empty without you next to him.

Not to mention he’d found comfort in you being his personal heater at night. It was no secret that Lando ran cold, often seen sporting a jacket during race weekends while his teammate was in shorts. So with his personal heater gone, he’d resorted to wearing a hoodie to bed, which didn’t come close to holding a candle to you.

When he finally worked up the courage to get up and go to your room he was pleasantly surprised to find you up too and facing the same problem as him. A little sliver of him hoping that it was the exact same problem and that you couldn’t sleep without him.

For a split second you caught his eyes looking past you and towards your bed. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious, but if was actually hinting at what you thought he was hinting at, then you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity. It wasn’t a coincidence that he had come to your door and that you both had trouble sleeping in separate beds. So, you act on impulse and tell him come on just sleep in here tonight and like a little kid who’s gotten scared of the thunder at night he’s crawling into your bed in an instant.

It’s like you two are magnets– immediately finding your way to each other under the sheets and it doesn’t take long for the both of you to finally fall asleep. And some time in the middle of the night Lando had shed his hoodie, no longer needing it with you pressed against him. When you two wake in the morning with the sun streaming through the windows and sleepy smiles plastered on your faces, there’s an unspoken agreement that even with the plethora of beds in this house, you two would be sleeping in the same one every night.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Lando and you were best friends, nothing more. Nevermind the sharing a bed every night or the longing glances or the sometimes suggestive thoughts you had about him. So maybe your friendship wasn’t practical or normal, but there was nothing romantic going on between you two. It was something you had drilled into your head for some time now. You’d try to ignore the way your heart would speed up when you’d catch him looking at you or the way he always has to have physical contact with you. And any other crazy thoughts that you’d speculated about had always been pushed aside rather quickly. He was your best friend after all and once again nothing more.

Though over the course of the week you’d found yourself having a hard time in pushing aside those non platonic thoughts about Lando. There were instances you two had found yourselves in that you just couldn’t ignore.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

“What’s the plan for today?” You ask as the two of you are sitting outside the cutest little restaurant, enjoying brunch.

Lando finishes the last little bit of his eggs before answering you. “Well nothing that involves you getting behind a motor vehicle with the way you’ve been downing those bellinis.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics. Yes, you’d had your fair share of bellinis, but they were so damn good and there really wasn’t that much alcohol in them for it to be an issue. “How about we just see where the day takes us?”

“Well I already had the idea of renting jet skis in my head, but I guess we’ll do what you suggested.” You joke.

Now Lando’s the one to roll his eyes at you as he flags down the waiter for the check. He doesn’t even look at it when it’s brought over, he just hands his card over like it’s nothing. It’s something that you still aren’t used to him doing even after knowing him for so long and you’re sure he’s gotten ripped off more times than he could imagine.

He quickly signs for it once the waiter comes back and with his card back in his wallet you’re free to go. Except when you stand up all those bellinis hit you and you’re a little unsteady on your feet, something that Lando clocks immediately. You aren’t drunk, just buzzed, but Lando isn’t going to let you live this down. “You wanted to rent jet skis huh?” He teases as he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you.

“Think we still could to be honest.” You’re confident in your ability to walk on your own, but Lando insists on keeping his hold on you.

“Well I don’t want to waste a day at the hospital, so let’s just look around at the shops.”

You’d passed them on your way to brunch and Lando had promised you’d come back to them. They were cute little stores, each one specializing in certain things. You took your time in each one, feeling the silky material of some of the dresses, admiring the leather detailing on the handbags, and gawking at the dazzling jewelry in the displays. Everything was quite luxurious and your eyes couldn’t help but linger on a certain bag and bracelet, but the price tags were all you had to see to know they weren’t coming home with you.

Lando had been watching you the whole time, fully prepared to be your bag boy and was ready to pull out his wallet whenever he’d see you pick something up. But much to his disappointment, all you did was look and after going through all the stores you left empty handed. “You didn’t see anything you wanted?” Lando asks as you continue down the street.

You simply shrug your shoulders at him. “Nothing that I couldn’t live without.” He doesn’t press the matter anymore, fully knowing that he’d be coming back sometime this week to get you that bag and bracelet that you kept circling back to.

The streets are charming and bright. It’s a place that you can’t help but feel alive in, especially as the summer sun beats down on you, but the light breeze coming in off the sea makes it bearable. Your buzz was long gone, but Lando still insisted that you link your arm with his as you stroll down the streets– just in case. You don’t oblige to his request, enjoying the feeling of holding onto his solid bicep as the sound of him slightly humming the song that was playing at brunch fills your ears.

A sense of peacefulness washes over you and it’s at this moment that you don’t feel like you’re on the arm of the famous Formula 1 driver Lando Norris. He doesn’t have a million cameras on him or people flocking to him for an autograph. It’s just you and your best friend Lando– the boy who was gagging when you teased the idea of ordering fish at dinner last night or who you laid in bed with this morning, watching dumb Tiktoks until you were both in tears laughing. It was nice for once, to just have Lando.

You’re just about ready to circle back to the villa when you hear a woman shouting in Italian from down the street. You’re not anywhere near fluent, but you recognize some basic words and what you’ve heard has you pulling Lando towards the voice.

Fior! Bei Fiori!

At the end of the street there stood the lady, who had a cart of the most vibrant fresh flowers. When she spotted the two of you approaching, a smile painted itself across her face. “I think your pretty girl deserves some flowers, don’t you?”

The corners of your mouth turn upwards and a smile is painted across your face. You can feel your cheeks getting warm at her statement, at the implication that you were Lando’s, but it’s his response that makes them comparable to the roses found on the cart.

Lando feels his chest get tight over the lady assuming the two of you were together. It’s nothing new, for people to assume that he’s with a girl just because he’s seen with one. Though for some reason when someone says it about you, it gets a reaction out of him. He’s grinning as he looks at you and then back to the sweet old lady. “You’re right, my pretty girl does deserve some flowers.”

The butterflies that erupted in your stomach at his words were embarrassing and not the appropriate reaction to be having over your best friend, but his comment wasn’t very platonic either. You’re blushing and grinning, probably very easily comparable to a school girl at the moment. He’s got a smug look on his face as he hands you of course the biggest bouquet the lady had. It’s truly a beautiful bouquet and it smells divine, it had anything you could have gotten at the shops beaten by a mile.

As you head back towards the villa you can’t wipe the smile off your face and you can’t stop thinking about my pretty girl. The words shamelessly repeating over and over again in your head. “So you think I’m pretty huh?” You tease.

Now Lando’s the one to blush and he hopes you just think it’s just from the heat and sun as you look at him. “Of course I do. I’d have to be blind to not think so.” He’s sincere with his words, he truly thinks you’re one of the most breathtaking women he’s ever met– intellectually and physically.

You lean your head on his arm, the same one you’ve still wrapped yourself around. “You sure know how to swoon 'em.”

“You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And for the first time, for both of you, it feels weird and almost stings to hear the word best friend said out loud. Because deep down you know you’re way more than that.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Although you weren’t that much of a party girl you didn’t mind going out every once in a while. So when Lando suggested going out to one of the bars tonight it didn’t seem like a bad idea. You’d done your fair share of relaxing and to you that meant a night out deserved to be had.

With a final spritz of your perfume you’re ready to go and as you looked in the mirror one last time you couldn’t help but think damn, I look good. You found Lando waiting for you in the foyer, his head lifting up from his phone at the sound of your heels clicking down the stairs. “Might want to close your mouth before you attract flies Lan.” He hadn’t even realized he was in that much of a trance until you said something, he could feel his cheeks getting warm at getting caught.

You hook your arm with his as he leads you out the front door. “Sorry, you just look unreal tonight.”

“Well you don’t look too bad yourself.” He’d chosen his tried and true white button up, leaving the first few buttons undone, which revealed even more of his gorgeous tanned skin. How someone could make something as simple as a white button up shirt look so good was beyond you, but it was clearly something he was skilled at.

The bar you end up at is relatively small and you realize it must be the most popular one with how packed it is. It’s on the coast and there’s a gorgeous outdoor area that you are immediately drawn to, mainly because there’s slightly less people out here. It’s still a good time though and the people are somehow even more rowdy out here and you wonder if it’s the fresh air.

You’ve danced, drank, laughed, talked, everything you could think of on a night out. It's been nice, especially doing it all with Lando, who somehow through the course of the night has undone more buttons on his shirt and you think he might as well just undo them all. It’s clearly getting late from how the crowd is slowly starting to thin out, but you two are still having a ball, and you figure you’ll stay till they kick you out.

Lando’s gone inside to get you both another drink, which he easily could have gotten from the bartender out here, but he claimed that the guy didn’t know what he was doing. While you wait you venture off to a far corner of the patio that’s somewhat empty. There’s a couple people sitting in chairs sharing a cigarette, but other than that you’re alone. Even in the dark the view is amazing and as you lean on the railing a nice breeze comes in off the water. It’s relaxing and nice, especially when you’re that sticky kind of sweaty and a little more drunk than you realize.

“Absolutely beautiful.” You jump at the unfamiliar, yet familiar voice. It had been a minute since you’d heard another British accent besides Lando’s. When you turn around to put a face to the voice you aren’t expecting to see such a gorgeous man standing there. He’s really the whole package– stunning blue eyes, pretty smile, fluffy light brown hair, nice facial hair.

“Uh- yeah it is.” You assumed he was talking about the view.

“Can I join you?”

He’s cute and you wouldn’t mind some company, so you tell him yes.

“Where’d your boyfriend run off to?” He asks as he nurses his Corona.

“He’s not my boyfriend, but I’m not wrong in assuming you know who he is, right?” This guy is in his twenties and British, if he didn’t know who Lando was then he had to be living under a rock.

He takes a swig of his beer before responding. “I know who he is.”

You scoff, there was a big possibility that he was using you to get to meet Lando, it was something you’d dealt with many times before. Guys showing interest in you only in hopes of becoming Lando’s friend or even worse girls who would befriend you only to try and get with Lando. You weren’t some step on the ladder that led to Lando, you were your own person with feelings and a life, who deserved to have people like you for you, not who you knew.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the fact that you’re done being led on by people, but either way you confront the guy about it. “Are you using me to get to him?”

You hear him laugh a little and it lights a fire in you, but his words extinguish it before it gets out of control. “I was brave enough to come over here and willingly flirt with you before I even knew if he was your boyfriend or not. If I was trying to use you to get to him, I don’t think that would be a good plan. Which now that I know you’re not his girlfriend, kinda makes me think he’s an idiot. How could he have a girl like you in his life and not be madly in love with you?”

Your brain is fuzzy as you’re trying to process what he’s said. “Sorry wait- you were flirting with me?”

He’s got a cheeky grin on his face and he lets out a chuckle at your cluelessness. “When I said ‘absolutely beautiful’ I wasn’t talking about the view.”

“Oh.” You’d thought it was kind of weird for him to just randomly say that about the view, but for it to be aimed towards you was the last thing you had thought of. “Well, flirt all you want then.”

Not only did this place have one bartender that was incompetent, it seemed like all of them were. Lando had waited for what seemed like ages for a beer and a vodka cranberry. It wasn’t even that busy at the bar for it to be taking so long and at one point he contemplated just going behind the bar and doing it himself. By the time he finally got them he was surprised you hadn’t come looking for him, but when he made his way out onto the patio he saw exactly why you hadn’t.

Over in the corner Lando sees you doubled over laughing with some guy as he watches from afar. His grip on the glasses gets tighter as he sees you place your hand on the guy's arm. The tightness in his chest increases the longer he stands here and watches. It bothers him more than he cares to admit– to see you with some random guy. To hear that laugh of yours and him not being the source of it is driving him crazy. But what really sends him over the edge is when the guy tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and without a second thought he’s storming over there.

Lando tries to play it cool as he approaches and he’s glad he’s got these drinks to use as an excuse. Your mid conversation when Lando interrupts, but he doesn’t care one bit. “Here’s your drink.” He says as he pushes the slightly watered down glass towards you.

“Oh thanks Lan.” You flash him a smile, but his face is emotionless and the fun light hearted atmosphere has suddenly turned awkward. For some reason you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. “Um, Lando this is-” You remember at that moment that you hadn’t even asked the guy his name, which to you makes this even more awkward.

“Harry.”

“Right. Lando, this is Harry.” You motion between the two men. “Harry, this is Lando.”

Harry extends a hand out to Lando and they very awkwardly shake hands. “Nice to meet you mate.”

Lando only nods his head at him before turning his focus back to you. “I think we should get going, they are gonna close soon.”

You think he’s joking, considering he’d waited all that time to get these drinks, and now he suddenly wants to leave. “I just got my drink, can we at least stay until I finish it?” It also feels rude to just abruptly leave in the middle of the conversation that you were enjoying with Harry. But Lando doesn’t know how to hide his emotions very well and by the look on his face you know he’s being serious.

“Well you can stay, but I’m leaving.” He knows he shouldn’t leave you alone with some guy you just met, but god he doesn’t think he can stand here and watch you flirt with him anymore than he already has. So, without hearing your response he starts making his way towards the exit.

A regretful look washes across your face as you look at Harry. “That was so rude of him, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s up with him, he never acts like that.” You take a big swig of your drink, fully knowing dealing with Lando is gonna be a pain. “It was really nice talking to you, but I better go hunt him down.”

He shrugs, clearly not as upset over this whole situation as Lando or you are. “No biggie, I’m sure we’ll see each other around. It’s a small place.” You bid him goodbye, but you don’t get very far before he’s hollering. “Can I at least get your Instagram?” Which has you coming back and quickly exchanging usernames before you're off again to find Lando.

You run into him in the bar and it looks like he was coming back out towards the patio. A look of relief washes over him when he sees you and he’s leading you away from the loud music and out the front exit before either of you can say anything. Only once the bass of the music is a faint sound in the distance does Lando speak up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with that guy. I was coming back in when you found me.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but you were kinda rude to him for no reason.”

Guess you were diving in head first with this.

Lando stops walking and turns to face you, a confused look on his face. “I wasn’t being rude.”

“Yes you were. We were having a conversation and you just butted in and demanded we leave. Not to mention you wouldn’t even speak to him. He was nice, you would have liked him if you gave him the time of day.”

“You barely know the guy, you talked to him for what ten-fifteen minutes? I just didn’t have a good feeling about him.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dumb excuse. He shook the guy's hand and didn’t get a good feeling about him? Bullshit. “Well if you didn’t have a good feeling about him then why’d you leave me with him?” He’d started to walk again, but stopped dead in his tracks at your words, spinning on his heel to face you once again.

“I already told you I regretted leaving you. I just had to get out of there for a second.”

“Why?” You were being adamant, your arms crossed across your chest as you waited for his answer.

He knew exactly why, but he couldn’t tell you that, he hadn’t even fully accepted it himself. “I don’t know Y/N.”

You’re getting frustrated with him and these damn heels that you chose to wear are not making your mood any better. “There’s a reason for everything, Lando. How would you like it if I acted like you did tonight with a girl you were talking to? You’d be livid.”

He completely ignores your accusation and turns the conversation in another direction. It had been itching at him to know if you were just being nice or if you were actually interested in the guy, so he plucked up the courage to ask. “So you were flirting with him?”

The look on your face is one of pure confusion, but your tone is nothing but shitty. “I’m not sure how you jumped to that conclusion from what I said or why it’s really any of your concern, but yeah it was just some harmless flirting. I’m sorry for having a little fun!” You were thankful that it was late enough for the street to be relatively empty, the last thing that needed to happen was pictures or a video getting out of you two arguing. You were sure there were already rumors about you two being on vacation together, you could only imagine how this would be misconstrued.

Hearing that his best friend was potentially interested in someone else had his head spinning and he could no longer blame his reactions on the alcohol. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore, ignore the way his heart raced when he looked at you. Or how he loved hearing that old lady call you his girl the other day.

It had been building up– festering almost this whole week and maybe subconsciously he wanted to go on this trip with you to see if there was some truth to what everyone had teased him about. He just didn’t think it would actually be true. Or that at two in the morning on a dimly lit street in Italy, during an argument, he would finally accept that he was in love with you.

But even with him realizing he’s in love with you, that doesn’t stop him from being an absolute idiot. “He was probably just using you to get to me.” Lando immediately regrets what he said as soon as it comes out of his mouth. He knows that's a sore subject for you and the look of hurt on your face makes his stomach churn.

“Now you’re just being mean.” You’re sure it’s a mixture of things that are contributing to the salty tears welling up in your eyes at the moment, but it’s Lando’s comment that actually makes them fall. You’re storming off before he can say anything, wishing you would have just stayed at the bar with Harry.

Lando knows he’s an idiot, but he also knows he’s the one who lit the match, which means he’s gotta be the one to put it out. “Y/N come on. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said that.” He catches up with you rather quickly, your heels slowing you down.

“Just leave me be Lando.”

“Y/N. Stop walking for just a minute.” He’s grabbing at your arm, trying to halt your movement.

You stop and face him and for what it’s worth he does look sorry, but that doesn’t change how you feel. “What? You want to poke fun at me some more?”

“No I-”

“You know I was just having a little harmless fun with that guy, like you said I talked to him for what? Fifteen minutes? Nothing was going to come out of it. But is it really that far-fetched of an idea for a guy to actually be interested in me just for me? Am I that undesirable and unlovable for it to seem like a reality? Or was he like everyone else who’s used me and threw me away as soon as they got their five minutes of the almighty Lando Norris experience?”

The tears that slide down your cheeks are a mixture of anger and embarrassment and maybe you were being a little dramatic. Perhaps the multiple drinks you’d consumed weren’t helping either, but when the person you care about the most says something like that, something you’d confided in him about, it hurts.

Lando feels his heart break to hear you talk about yourself like that. All he wants to do is to scream out that you’re not undesirable or unlovable. He’s wanted you and loved you for some time now, the moment it started he’s not sure, but he knows it didn’t happen overnight. It’s always been there– he was just too blind to see it.

He’s not entirely sure on how to make this right, he knows he was an ass, but he also knows he can’t take back what’s been said. The worst part is that he knows exactly how you feel and somehow he still thought that was a good thing to throw in your face– all because he was jealous. He could deal with people trying to use him, he’d developed a sixth sense for them and never let it get too far, but you were too kind. Your big heart and trusting of others had gotten you burned one too many times and it hurt Lando even more to know that all that had happened because of him.

“I should have never said that to you. I know first hand how it feels to have people use me and the only reason you’ve had to deal with that is because of me. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your sniffles fill the night air as you try to calm yourself down. While people used you to get to Lando, at least they didn’t want to be your friend to leech off your fame. Use you for your money and generosity, expecting paddock passes and some lavish lifestyle. People saw Lando as an object rather than a person more times than not. While your feelings were valid and Lando was still an ass for saying that, you realized to be in his shoes was worse. So, you wipe away your tears and accept his apology indirectly. “Think we’ve only got each other at this point.”

His voice is soft as he approaches you, his hand reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Don’t think I need anyone else but you.”

The tender moment has you turning to putty in his hands– the argument pushed to the back of your mind. His hand moves to cup your face and his tumb brushes gently across your cheek. You feel like time has frozen in this moment and for a split second you swear he looks at your lips, like he’s going to kiss you. The fact that this is your best friend is no concern to you at the moment. Then the moment between you two is ruined just as fast as it began, the sound of a very loud and drunk group of people leaving the bar up the street brings you both back to reality.

You back away from each other slowly, like you weren’t sure exactly what had just almost happened. You’d already resorted to blaming it on both of your emotions still running wild and the alcohol still coursing through your veins. The group of people are getting closer, their obnoxious singing getting louder as each second passes. They might not even know who Lando is, but you aren’t in the mood to wait around and find out, the last thing you want to deal with right now is drunk fans. “We’ve had too much to drink, my head and feet hurt. Let’s go home.” You grumble as you begin the trek home once again, your feet aching more and more with each step.

Lando stops for a moment and kicks off his shoes, he couldn’t let you walk in pain the whole way home. Especially after the pain he had caused moments ago. “Here put these on, your feet are killing you.” He hands you the white sneakers before squatting down in front of you to help you get your heels off.

Your feet already thank you as you slip on the oversized shoes that clomp on the stone street. And like a magnet you find yourself wrapping your arm around his as you walk down the street. You’re sure you two are a sight–you in shoes that are way too big and Lando only in socks as he holds your heels for you.

“You know you’re still an ass.” You tell him as you lean your head on his shoulder.

“I know.”

“You know you aren’t unloveable.” He hopes you know he’s being sincere, your words still replaying in his mind as you walk.

“I know.”

By the time you make it back to the villa you’re both exhausted. The alcohol, the argument, that moment between you two, the walk home– you were sure tomorrow morning would be a rough one. There aren’t many words spoken as you get ready for bed and as you slide under the covers next to Lando you can’t shake something from your mind from tonight, and it wasn’t the argument.

It was the fact that during the whole time you were chatting with Harry, you couldn’t help but compare him to Lando. There wasn’t the same sparkle in his eye like Lando, his smile wasn’t the same, his laugh. It seemed like everything that you noticed about this guy came second best to Lando. Sure you were having fun and he was nice, but not once had the thought of Lando slipped your mind. And even right now, with Lando next to you, you’re still somehow thinking about him.

It didn’t take long for Lando to fall asleep and you were on the verge of it when your phone went off on the nightstand. Usually, you would just ignore it, but something in you told you to see what it was.

harryinsta is now following you

You then see that he had sent you a DM and you’re expecting it to be about meeting up some time, which you were going to politely decline, but it’s quite the opposite.

harryintsa: i must have been mistaken earlier. lando's not an idiot.

yourinsta: huh?

harryinsta: he’s in love with you lol

Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as you read the message over and over again. Lando wasn’t in love with you, was he? Sure you’d heard it from just about everyone in your life that you two were in love with each other, but you always thought it was silly. You guys were just best friends is what you would always say, but to hear it come from a literal stranger was different.

You couldn’t lie that you hadn’t recently had your moments of perhaps thinking that he did, though you’d always talk yourself out of the idea. Although, if he was in love with you that may explain his behavior tonight. Or maybe it was just the alcohol like you’d originally thought. Then the tender moment you two shared entered your mind and suddenly the gears in your head are working overtime.

You locked your phone and sat it back down on the nightstand. Just from a simple DM you’d gone from being dead tired to now being wide awake– staring at the ceiling. You’re not sure how much time had passed as you laid there over analyzing every interaction with Lando. You were struggling enough trying to figure out the things you had recently felt about Lando, let alone the possibility that he was in love with you. All you knew for sure was that things weren’t the same between you two, you’d felt a shift when you were with him in Monaco before the Belgium GP. It had only amplified during this trip and you had a feeling that by the end of it things would be different.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Two days later you’re sunbathing on a comfy lounger on the beach, while Lando’s out in the water doing god knows what. You’d given up on watching him a while ago, deciding instead to be productive and try to catch up to Lando’s tan level. Which, after laying here for some time now, it seemed impossible. That boy could be in the sun for a day and have a glowing tan– you not so much.

Moments later you think a cloud has passed in front of the sun, but when you feel cool water droplets on your hot skin you peek open one eye to find a wet and grinning Lando standing over you. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You greet him back as you sit up, your smile matching his. “Did you have fun out there?”

“I had a lot of fun and the water felt amazing. You should have got in.”

“I will later.” You notice he’s got one of his hands behind his back like he’s hiding something. “Lan, what have you got?” He tries to play dumb for a moment, trying to wind you up, but he eventually caves and pulls a plastic pail from behind his back. “Please don’t tell me you stole that from a kid.” Your half joking and half being serious, because where the hell did he get that from?

“I did not steal it from a kid– I borrowed it.” The smile on his face never falls as he continues to speak. “They had a bunch of them. I don't think they’ll miss it. Plus I needed something to put your present in.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, curiosity written all over your face. “My present?”

He’s smiling so hard as he sits down at the end of the lounger that you think this must be the best present in the world. Seconds later the pail is turned upside down and out falls the prettiest seashells. Your heart swells when you realize all that time he had spent out in the water he was looking for shells– for you. There’s a light pink one that catches your eye and Lando notices when you reach for it.

“Knew you’d like that one.”

Of course he knew that, sometimes you think he knows you better than you know yourself. “Can’t believe you spent all that time finding them.”

He shrugs like it’s an everyday thing. “I knew it would make you happy, which meant I enjoyed doing it. Really only took me so long because I wanted them all to be perfect for you.”

The sun beating down on you feels cold with how hard you’re blushing. “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

Lando starts to get shy when you get sappy, like he hadn’t just said the sweetest thing a second ago. He’s smiling, but focuses on carefully putting the shells back into the pail. “You’re my favorite person too.”

A while later you decide to open up the umbrella between the two loungers. You had chosen to give up on the tanning lifestyle and instead dive into a new book. While Lando was fast asleep on the lounger next to you, apparently all that hunting for shells had worn him out.

You’d noticed out of the corner of your eye awhile ago that a little boy kept glancing over in your direction, specifically at Lando. You knew he had to have been a fan or he was the kid Lando stole the pail from. The nervous glances back and forth tell you that thankfully he’s a fan and you think it’s the cutest thing. You’re in the middle of considering waking Lando up so the boy could come over when you hear a groan that is undoubtedly Lando awaking from his slumber.

“What are you looking at?” He asks as he rubs his eyes.

You nod your head in the direction of the boy who’s just seen that Lando is awake and is practically bouncing with glee. “Think you may have a fan.”

A big grin spreads across Lando’s face as he sees the little boy. Lando loved meeting all his fans, but meeting the kids was his favorite. He thinks a big part of the reason he always makes sure to find time for the younger fans was because he was that kid once. Before he was ever F1 driver Lando Norris, he was just a kid who finally got the chance to meet their idol and he knows that picture or an autograph means the world to them

Lando motions for the boy to come over and he’s instantly tugging on his Mom’s shirt to get her to come with him. She gives you guys a questioning look and when Lando motions again they both come over.

The little boy’s Italian accent is the cutest thing ever as he greets you two and you can tell just how much it means to him to be talking to Lando.

“What’s your name?” Lando asks as he signs a beach towel of all things.

“Luca and I’m seven!”

“Seven is a great age. You know I started karting when I was seven!”

Luca’s eyes get as wide as saucers as he glances back at his Mom, who is already shutting down any talk of Luca karting. “I told you possibly next year. You’re still my little baby. I don't want you getting hurt!”

Lando gives the Mom an apologetic look. “How about a picture?” Which easily takes Luca’s attention away from karting, as he’s already at Lando’s side with a big smile on his face before his Mom has her phone out.

They take a couple pictures and high fives are exchanged throughout their interaction. The whole thing is very sweet and you can’t help but look on in adoration, fully knowing that Lando would make a great Father one day.

You see that Luca keeps looking over at you and then back to Lando, but you don’t pay that much mind to it. You figured he was just nervous or something, but what comes out of his mouth next takes you by surprise.

“Your girlfriend is very pretty.”

You feel your heart skip a beat and you glance over at Lando to see what his reaction is. You prepare yourself for the worst, but in true Lando fashion he’s all smiles. In fact he’s sporting that full face smile of his and it makes you feel funny.

“Thank you buddy, I think so too.” He looks over at you with nothing but love in his eyes and you’re immediately looking away like some shy school girl.

Thankfully, the Mom comes to your aid and quickly changes the subject. “Ok Luca, you’ve bothered them enough. We should get back to our spot. Thank them for their time.”

His cute little voice mutters out grazie as he gives you a small wave goodbye.

“It was very nice to meet you, Luca.” Lando bids him farewell and you both wave back at the little boy.

As soon as they’re gone you’re immediately shoving your face back into your book, you don’t even want to talk about what had just happened. It was nothing really to be so worked up over, it was just a little kid who saw two people together and assumed they were together. It happens all the time. But it is a big deal when you find yourself liking being referred to as Lando’s girlfriend. It doesn’t help when neither of you deny it and correct the person. Lando likes to play into it and you love it too much to say anything.

Ever since getting that DM the other night your mind had been in a whirlwind over how Lando felt about you and how you felt about him. Hell you can’t even look at him right now, you’re so in your head that you’ve been staring at the same page for the last five minutes. You just wished the book you were reading could tell you how to come to terms with the fact that you’re in love with your best friend.

It was something you’d realized the other night while you were awake overthinking everything. Those feelings had always been there, but you had just pushed them aside, ignoring every little butterfly or rapid heartbeat. When they actually turned into romantic feelings you have no clue because as far as you knew, you and Lando had always been like this.

You two just dove in head first into the co-dependent friendship that was more like a relationship lifestyle. All those times you’d gone to his parents house for family dinners and holidays, both of you attached at the hip. How he wanted to ask you to move to Monaco with him and then almost didn’t even move because he said he’d miss you too much. The group vacations that always ended up with you two going off and doing your own thing. The texts from him every Wednesday before a race asking if he needed to get you a paddock pass and a flight. This trip in particular– sleeping in the same bed when you don’t have to, the cuddling, the getting mistaken for a couple three times so far, the fact that it was just you two alone on the trip.

It was all there the whole time and you wondered how you could have been so blind to not realize it sooner. You were in love with him. You loved his pretty eyes and curls and the way his real laugh only seemed to come out around you. You loved his big heart and his caring nature and sometimes you thought he was too nice to be a Formula 1 driver.

You loved everything about him and truth be told it made your stomach hurt from how much you loved him. You wanted to actually be his and be able to kiss those pink lips that you sometimes found yourself staring at. When people said you were his girlfriend you wanted it to actually be true and not have it be Lando just playing along. You were so down bad that you prayed that Harry was right and that Lando was actually in love with you too.

While you were freaking out, so was Lando. When you immediately went back to reading your book and not speaking a word, he figured he had weirded you out by basically implying that you were his girlfriend. He just figured it was easier to go along with what the kid thought than explain that you weren’t his girlfriend, but god does he wish you were. He didn’t know what to say to try and test the waters because he knew whatever he would say would come out awkward and he didn’t want to make things worse. So, once again it’s not talked about and you two pretend that it didn’t happen when you finally speak again.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

It’s the last day of the trip and you’re dreading going back to reality and away from this little slice of heaven. The only thing you have to look forward to is the supposed fancy dinner that Lando had planned for tonight, which was what you were currently getting ready for. Music plays through your phone and you softly sing along as you do your makeup. When you look up after digging in your makeup bag you spot Lando in the mirror, leaning against the door frame behind you. Your eyes lower and you see that he’s holding two gift bags.

"Those better be for your Mom.” You state as you put the finishing touches on your makeup.

“I think we both know they aren’t.” He sees you roll your eyes in the mirror and it only makes him want to spoil you more. “It’s our last day, I think you deserve a parting gift.”

You turn to face him as he makes his way over to you. “I haven’t gotten you a single thing this whole time. It makes me feel bad.”

Lando only shakes his head at you. “You being here with me is the best gift you could have ever gotten me. I truly don’t need anything else.” He hands you the bags. “Now open them please.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face as you take the bags from him. You decide to open the bigger bag first and once you pull out the tissue paper you know exactly what it is. It’s still in its dust bag, but you see the branding and your jaw is dropping before you even see the actual thing. “You did not get me this bag Lando!” You exclaim as you remove the dust bag and see that it’s the same bag you were eyeing at the store the other day.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Saw you eyeing it and knew I had to get it for you and before you say anything else open the other present.”

You set the handbag down and grab the smaller gift trying to figure out what else he could have possibly gotten you. When you open it and see the bracelet you were also looking at the other day you’re at a loss for words. “Lando Norris!” You could slap him, hug him, kiss him, and yell at him all at once. He’d dropped probably close to six grand on these two gifts and your head is spinning at the thought of it.

“Don’t even say anything about the price. I know you’re thinking it, but I wouldn’t have bought you them if I couldn’t afford it. I wanted you to have them, you deserve nice things.” You deserved a lot more than a handbag and a bracelet, but what he thought you deserved money couldn’t buy.

You know there's no use in fighting him on it, but you still feel bad that he just spends all this money on you. He takes the bracelet from the box and fastens it around your wrist, the diamonds glittering in the light as you move it around. It’s truly stunning and the handbag will go great with your outfit tonight. As soon as you two make eye contact again you’re pulling him into a bone crushing hug and you two stay like that for probably longer than necessary. “Thank you a million times Lan. I love them both so much.”

It’s time to leave for dinner shortly after that and when you arrive at the restaurant the host guides you back to a secluded corner. It’s a very romantic ambiance and you can’t help but feel like you’re on a date, which wouldn’t be a horrible thing. Moments later a waiter comes over with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “It’s on the house– for the special couple.”

There it is again and it seems like with each time it happens it makes your heart race even more. Lando shifts in his seat and you focus on the rising bubbles in the glasses as the waiter pours the champagne. Lando tells him thank you and your attention moves to the menu.

“What are you thinking about getting?” You ask, ignoring the obvious.

“Probably the steak.” He grabs the flute of champagne and takes a drink. “What was that? The fourth time now?”

You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you’re surprised he’s decided to talk about it. “Yeah it was.” You set the menu down and grab the other flute. “Think I’ll get the steak too.”

Dinner actually turns out to be an amazing time. The food is decadent and Lando and you have good conversations that don’t revolve around you two being mistaken for a couple or being in love with each other. When the waiter brings the bill you’re quite sad because that just means this trip is that much closer to being over.

You take your time heading back to the villa, trying to savor every last moment you’ve got here. The sun was low in the sky by the time you get back and you tell Lando just how you want to spend your final evening in Italy. You hurry and change into comfier clothes and take off all your makeup before heading to the spot with the best view out back. Lando makes his way out there not too long after you, but he’s got one more surprise for you.

“Don’t think the evening or this trip would be complete without this now would it?” He pulls a bottle of pink moscato from behind his back along with two wine glasses.

He knew you too well, but it was something you loved dearly about him. “You’re a man after my heart Norris.”

He hands you a glass as he sits down next to you, the sun just beginning to set on the horizon. “I try.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a while and the only sound to be heard is from the waves below. It feels like paradise sitting here with this amazing view and the guy you love next to you. It’s probably boring to the majority of people, but this was everything you could ask for and more and the perfect way to end this amazing trip. You lean in closer to Lando, your head resting on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. A content sigh escapes past your lips as his thumb starts to draw mindless circles on your arm.

“Thank you again for everything. This trip was amazing and I’m glad we got to go together– just you and me.”

“I’m glad too. It was probably the best summer break trip I’ve had. Don’t think Ibiza will be seeing me for a while.”

You’re not even looking at him, but you can sense the smile on his face and you can’t help but laugh at his lie. “Yeah, and I don’t like pink moscato.”

“Alright so Ibiza will inevitably see me, but not as much as Italy.” He pauses for a moment, glancing down at you still resting on his shoulder, his heart swelling just by looking at you. “I think this may be our place now, just for the two of us.” His voice is soft when he says it, like he’s not sure if he wanted to say it outloud.

You lift your head up and are met with his piercing blue eyes staring back at you. He looked radiant as golden hour cascades over him and it’s like you’re in a trance as you look at him. You take in every last bit of him, all the little details about him that you’ve memorized over the years. The slight stubble on his face from not shaving for a couple days, the little moles, his long and somehow always curled eyelashes, those pink lips of his. He’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more. You’ve had him at fingertip length for so long now and all you want to do is reach out for him, take what you want and never let go.

Lando feels his breath catch in his throat as you two make eye contact. You’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take without you actually being his. You were the love of his life, his best friend, and everything he’s ever wanted. It may have taken him a long time to realize it, but he’s never felt like this about anyone before. You know each other like the back of your hands and it only makes sense that you’d be the one for him.

And it’s in this moment that it clicks for you two that it’s now or never. You’re never going to have a perfect moment like this again. It feels right, like the universe wants this moment to happen and if you let it go to waste you may never get the chance again. Lando takes his free hand and gently cups your face, his thumb ever so softly rubbing across your cheek. You’re practically putty in his hands and you feel like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest. You want to scream out to him that you love him, that you want to be his, but you can barely get your brain to communicate with your mouth.

“Lan-”

That’s all you can get out before Lando’s leaning in and his lips are on yours. He tastes like the sugary sweet wine and his lips are soft as they move in sync with yours. Kissing him is even better than you’d imagined and as your hand reaches up to his neck you deepen the kiss. It feels like you two had kissed a thousand times before and as he pulls away you’re already left wanting more.

Your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathless and a little light headed from that singular kiss. When you both actually internalize what’s just happened you’re both grinning, that then turns into laughing and it’s like music to both of your ears to hear each other laugh.

“I think that was a long time coming.” You state as you finally lean back onto the couch.

Lando reaches out for your hand, intertwining his with yours. “When did you realize?”

“That night when we got into that argument, which looking back now, you were totally jealous.”

“I was not jealous!” He tries to be serious, but the knowing look on your face has him cracking. “Ok I was jealous.”

“When did you realize?” You question.

“That same night. I couldn’t understand why you flirting with that guy bothered me so much. Well I guess now we know.”

“Yeah cause you’re in loooveee with me.” You’re laughing as you speak, but he shuts you up with another kiss and leaves you pouting when he pulls away.

“Only kissed you twice and you’re already pouting when I pull away? I think you’re in loooveee with me.”

You lean back in, capturing his lips in yet another kiss and you’re like teenagers who’ve gotten into their first relationship.

Lando sighs when you stop kissing him, he can’t believe he could have had this sooner if he would have just opened his eyes. “You think you could get another week off from work?”

You’d do anything to get another week in a paradise with him, but you know it’s not possible. “Hmm, why don’t you just spend a week in London with me?”

“Well you haven’t even told them that you now have a famous F1 driver boyfriend. Who if they didn’t know already is very needy and needs to see his girlfriend.” He teases.

“Well you forgot to add that you’re my hot and famous F1 driver boyfriend.” You counter back.

You’re both grinning like fools at each other and as you curl up into his side and take in the last sunset you’ll see in the place that now holds such a special place in both of your hearts, you’re glad you let him convince you to come on this trip.

As the sun finally sets over the water you actually say those three little words.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[not-neverland06]

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[ambros1an]

sunday x reader - halovian courtship

warning: no spoilers, gn! reader, pining/soft sunday, Sunday info dumping as usual

summary: where Sunday will do everything except confess, and you just think he’s emotionally stunted.

a/n: i read about birds for this

halovian courting rituals

1. Gift giving. Like their close bird companions, Halovians participate in 'nuptial gifts,' a form of gift giving to a potential partner.

You were walking into the Oak Family Headquarters, Dewlight Pavilion, sent to deliver some letters. Although, you’ve been here before, it was still a bit nerve wracking to be in such a place, undetached from your usual position as a lower end employee.

The entrance to Oak Family Head’s office was right in front of you. You bite your lip, shifting the documents to your other arm and knock.

“Nightingale Famil-“

The door swings open. The family head holding the door stands to the side.

“Ah,” Sunday says your name, “it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, blinking a couple times. He remembers me?

“Yes, it’s nice to see you again Mr. Sunday. I’ve come with documents from the Nightingale family detailing a new plan for the dreamscape.”

He looks a bit disappointed?

He chuckles, then calls out to a lone employee, “you’re dismissed for today, I’ll take care of the rest.”

The Oak employee dips his head and leaves. Watching him leave fills a pit in your stomach.

“Mr. Sunday, is something wrong?”

Sunday sits up suddenly, “Oh, no. Not at all.” It’s that movement that makes you realize that he’s been fidgeting with something in his lap…Is he always like this?

“I guess I was just a bit surprised,” he smiles, looking down to the side. You caught him.

“Surprised? To see me?” Although Sunday and you have met a few times. It was always business, just like now—well maybe he did stare a bit intently at you before, but something really was different this time!

He looks up and sheepishly slides a box across the table. “Take it as…being a good part of The Family.”

For a few moments, your eyes set upon him. What is he planning? It’s a small box. Almost nothing could fit in there. You lift the top up.

You gasp. Earrings worth more than your entire life’s salary. You slam it shut.

“M-Mr. Sunday. This really isn’t necessary. I just—“ you ramble on. Sunday places his gloved hand on yours.

“Please, take it.”

Looking into his eyes, you realize that putting up a fight with the Oak Head won’t get you anywhere. You reluctantly take the box.

2. Preening. Similar to nature, touching a Halovian's wings is an intimate gesture to show one's interest in a romantic partner. Someone should never touch a Halovian's wings without asking!

Soon after, you come across Sunday again. This time at the Nightingale Family’s institution. You were putting away blueprints, plans and documents your coworkers left laying around haphazardly. When a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Good evening. Working hard, I see.”

“Mr. Sunday?”

He approached you, then looked around the room. He seemed to realize the situation you were in and scorned your coworkers. He mumbled something about you and moving to the “Oak Family.” As he spoke his wings were fluttering. They looked smooth and soft.

“You’ve been staring at my wings. Do they interest you that much?” He chuckles.

“Well, they are very pretty but—“

“Would you like to touch them?” A light blush spreads across his face. Despite that, he seemed perfectly poised. His hands clasped behind his back, standing straight and looking right at you.

“I-is that alright?” tumbles from your lips. You hesitantly reach out.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

Upon touching them, Sunday’s wings twitched away from you before settling down. The feathers are soft and plush. Some are darker in color while others are more pale. They’re surprisingly fluffy. A bit like fur but more delicate.

The blush darkened, his gaze shifted off to the wall. His composure utterly broken, his hands fidgeted behind his back.

“Did you know that birds groom each other as a social activity? It occurs between…ma-members of a flock.” He sputters. What is he saying?

Your fingers stroking his feathers create a flutter within his stomach. He leans into the touch. Taking that as a sign to continue, you reach farther up, a light brush into the coverts of his feathers. Sunday gasps and pulls away.

“…You must take good care of them. Are all Halovian wings soft like yours?”

He wishes that moment would never end.

3. Song. During courtship rituals many birds of different species tend to sing and dance. While that is popular among Halovian people, some may chose show affection through instruments instead.

One day, a notice appears at your door. Upon examining it you realize it’s an invitation from Sunday, instructing you to his office within the Dewlight Pavilion.

Could it be about the documents you sent him last time? You wrack your brain for any possible explanation. He had been acting weirder than usual.

Heat build up in your face upon recalling Sunday’s recent appreciation for you. The earrings that are far too expensive to wear anywhere, and even worse—you bury your face into your hands. In a profound display of unprofessionalism, he let you touch his wings.

Still, every muscle in your body jittered with excitement, even though it shouldn’t.

♫ ♬ ♩

Suddenly, the closer you got, the more the hallway echoed with the sound of a violin. Slowly, you carefully stepped towards the sound, till you found its source.

Sunday was playing the violin. You couldn’t help but freeze where you were and watch him. He truly did look like angel. As he drew his bow across the strings, the light from the window shined down on him. His hair reflected the light appearing almost white. Was he always this beautiful?

Abruptly, he stands up, “You’re early. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you closed the door behind you, “I didn’t know you could play. What song was it?”

He places the violin down on his table and approached you, “It’s ‘Salut d’amor,’ one of the first pieces I learned how to play,” Sunday put his hand behind his back, “the dream master was the one that taught me.”

“It was very pretty, I can tell you’ve been playing for a long time.”

“Thank you.” A light blush spreads onto his cheeks, but it’s gone before you can realize it.

A loud silence sweeps the room. The two of you avert your eyes. This side of Sunday feels so different from what you’ve been told. He always maintains a professional barrier. But if so, what was this?

Sunday calls your name, “how do you feel about me?”

“What?” The question is so out of the blue, you must’ve heard wrong, “I think you’re a nice guy—“

“I meant as a partner, I thought you knew. Was I not obvious enough?” He mumbles over the last sentence.

“I—well—“ you stumble over your words. He was serious. The earrings, the wing touching, the invitation. You dismissed it as him buttering you up. The ‘most handsome man in Penacony’ as delegated by the latest magazines, had feelings for you?

Your face felt so hot, you felt as if you could combust into flames at any moment, “I feel the same.”

His expression softened. “That’s a relief, I don’t have to cancel those reservations then.”

“Reservations?! Mr. Sunday-“

“Just Sunday. I’ll pick you up later then,” he smiled, then placed his hand near your ear, as if looking for something, “Oh, but this time remember to wear those earrings.”

a/n #2: soft Sunday is real, did u see how protective he was of Robin in the quest? i need more hoyo. feed my delusion

[machveil]

I can't resist the siren call

Roommate!Simon Riley that low-key enjoys fucking with your friends Y/N

subtle foreshadowing… I suppose I can dip into my nsfw Roommate!Simon Riley thoughts

Roommate!Simon Riley who shares a laundry bin with you, it had been agreed a long time ago that just doing a big load would be easier. you takes turns, knowingly stealing each other’s clothes every couple days when the laundry is fresh out the machine. you know Simon took an oversized t-shirt you owned, but that’s okay, you took his favorite gym hoodie

Roommate!Simon Riley who doesn’t get embarrassed about his underwear being in the bin with yours, it’s all going in the machine anyways. that doesn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow though when his favorite boxers go missing. he was sure he put them in with the dirties, well, the cleans now. he figures the machine ate it, or maybe they’ll show up some day by chance - he shrugs it off and separates his clothes from yours, snagging one of your oversized sweaters to lounge in later

Roommate!Simon Riley who freezes when he sees you on the couch that night. eyes wide and jaw slack, he can’t bring himself to move. sat watching something on the tv - he can’t be bothered to acknowledge whats playing - he stares at you, wearing his boxers as shorts. “Hey, come watch this— I’ll catch you up since it just started. I’m not pausing it though so you better pay attention.”, your words are all in one ear and out the other. suddenly his legs are moving on their own, stopping in front of you. he doesn’t register what you’re saying, telling him to move because you can’t see the tv, but then he speaks

Roommate!Simon Riley whose voice is deliciously deep, a little raspy from how his throat suddenly feels dry, “S’that mine?”, he asks, eyeing his boxers. he’s never had such a hard time swallowing before, heartbeat erratic as you casually respond, “Huh— oh, yeah. They’re really comfy, the fabrics nice.”. fabrics nice, yeah, he knows. “You— ya know those are boxers, right love?”, he asks, hands twitchy as you reply, “Mhm, just borrowin’ them.”

CW: guilty wank, man is hopeless [kisses his cheek]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s a mess after that interaction. you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but he’s losing it on the inside. he’s seen you be audacious with stealing his clothes before, taking his loose-fit tank tops that left little to the imagination on you, stealing clothes you knew he favored and parading around in them, but his boxers? that had him stalking back to his room, quick to turn on his heel before you could see his pants tent

he’s sweating, closes the door to his room a little harder than he meant to. god, he wants to go back out there and see you again, get an eyeful of how comfortable you looked - wearing his boxers like they were yours. you wouldn’t know, and he can’t help but think about it, but you had stolen his favorite pair. they’re plain, a simple black pair, something he bought at the store because he needed new underwear. but when you wear them? they suddenly looked different, makes his heart hammer against his chest. it feels like he walked out into the living room and you wearing lingerie, not something he got for fifteen pounds

he feels a little guilty, shoving his jeans down his thighs as he sits down on his bed. you’re home, sat in the living room just down the hall, and here’s Simon fishing his leaky cock out of his underwear. he really shouldn’t, he should sneak into the bathroom for a cold shower, think about war and blood and bullets to get his boner down. but he isn’t, he’s spitting into his palm and groaning, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth - he’s never been good about keeping quiet. it’s not his fault you were out there wearing his clothes, you were the one that decided to look so— so cozy and content in your makeshift shorts. domestic

when that word settles at the forefront of his brain Simon’s hips jerk, you looked domestic, wanting to watch some show with him. his leg jolts slightly, hand moving to shallowly pump his weeping head. maybe your friends are right, Simon does take care of you - could bend you over and make you sob his name - he’s basically your boyfriend, often mistaken for your husband. his thighs tense when he imagines a ring on your finger— no, his dog tags hanging from your neck— god, holding you at night as an actual couple—

he’s choking out a moan, muffled and hoarse, as he coats his hand. eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavily, all his thoughts fly out the window as his cum drips down his fingers - all his thoughts except for one. he’s going to have to go back out there later to eat dinner with you, and oh, fuck, he sucks in a deep breath as he chubs up again

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[autumnscribbles]

come back | r.c

summary: you and rafe get into a fight on a night out, when you’re left to find your own way home, you find yourself in a bad position

warnings: drinking, creepy men, i think that’s about it

wc: 2k

a/n: my first official rafe fic!!! thank you so much to the person who sent in this request, i’m a little rusty but had so much fun writing this! pls send more :) enjoy

~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

You let out a loud laugh as JJ continued to tell you one of the most ridiculous stories you’ve ever heard. Between fits of laughter, you took small sips from your red solo cup. You were starting to feel tipsy, the alcohol coursing through you. It made everything funnier, and you found yourself leaning in towards JJ, unable to control your laughter. You clutched your stomach as he laughed along with you, his own laughter triggered by how much you were laughing. It was always an endless cycle with JJ, when one of you started to laugh, it was over.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you hiccuped, as you stared down at the empty cup in your hand.

JJ patted your leg and nodded at you before you stood up, making your way over to the table where the drinks were. The room spun slightly around you as you clumsily poured yourself another drink. You were mixing it yourself, and chuckled at how heavy handed your pour was. You tilted your head back as you took a sip, nodding to yourself in approval.

As you turned around to head back to the couch you were sitting on, you bumped into a familiar chest. You looked up at your boyfriend, smiling drunkenly at him.

“Hey! There you are!” you cheered, leaning your head on Rafe’s chest as you inhaled his familiar scent.

“Took you long enough,” he scoffed, stepping to the side and approaching the same table you were just walking away from.

“What does that mean?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you took another sip.

“It means you should probably lay off the liquor and maybe don’t hang all over JJ like an idiot,” he retorted, his eyes glued to the table in front of him.

You thought it was hypocritical, him telling you to stop drinking as he poured himself another rum and coke. He drank as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted and you never said a word to him about it. JJ had been your friend since childhood, your family taking him in when he had no one else. You grew up together. Your friendship would always be special.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away from him, going back towards JJ.

“Running back to him?” Rafe called out to you.

You turned around, seeing his bright blue eyes darken as he looked at you. His jaw twitched as he clenched it. You knew he was biting his tongue. Holding himself back from saying something he would really regret.

“You know what Rafe? You’re childish. JJ is my friend, and you know it. Maybe you should stop drinking and you wouldn’t be so fucking delusional,” you bit back.

Rafe rolled his eyes and you walked back over to JJ, plopping on the couch beside him again. He looked concerned as he asked you if everything was okay. You assured him you were perfect, and tapped your cup against his as a cheers.

You ignored Rafe as you saw him walk passed you, not even sparing you a glance. You knew you upset him, and that he was bothered. For once, you didn’t care enough to do anything until you got home. You didn’t want to cause a scene, and more importantly, wanted to have fun with your friends.

After a few rounds of pong with John B, Pope, JJ, and Kie, the alcohol was really getting to your head. You realized you hadn’t seen Rafe since your argument, anXd thought maybe you should look for him.

“I’m gonna get some air and look for Rafe,” you said to your friends, voice raised to be heard over the music. They nodded at you before setting up for another game.

You weaved through drunk, sweaty bodies before stepping outside. You breathed in the fresh air, closing your eyes as everything spun.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered to yourself as you stumbled down the front steps.

You assumed Rafe would be outside. He usually stepped out for air when things were tense between you. He used it as a way to calm down. You were surprised when you didn’t find him.

You glanced down the street full of parked cars. You couldn’t spot Rafe’s truck. Did he leave? Would he? You felt tears springing to your eyes, suddenly feeling guilty for what you said to him. You pulled out your phone, calling him. It rang and rang, but eventually left you on voicemail. You shot him a quick text before sitting on the steps, spinning head in your hands.

“Hey…” you heard an unfamiliar voice behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see someone you didn’t recognize. Obviously a kook, based on the polo shirt and khaki pants he had on. You had never seen him at one of these parties before. Or maybe, you just never recognized him.

“Hey,” you muttered, pulling out your phone to see if Rafe answered.

“Lost your boyfriend?” he asked, sitting down comfortably beside you. You felt yourself slide over, wanting distance from him.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just waiting for him.”

“Don’t think he’s coming back, sweetheart. I saw him get in his truck,” he chuckled. “I could drive you home though.”

“I’m good,” you answered shortly.

You stood up, taking a second to regain your balance. You had to go home. To find Rafe. You realized you didn’t have the keys to your place. Rafe had them. You came together and were going to leave together. You guessed you’d just knock until he answered once you got there.

You knew you should tell your friends you were leaving, but in a drunken haze you were too focused to go back inside. You’d just text them later.

The boy on the stairs was in a conversation with a clone of himself, so you started walking. The cool evening hair sent a slight chill down your spine, your shoulders exposed. You tried to walk as quickly as possible without falling.

When you heard footsteps behind you, you reluctantly decided to look behind you. You were surprised to find the boy from the stairs and his friend walking a few paces behind you.

You felt your heartbeat pick up a bit, your hand clutching your phone tightly, willing Rafe to call. You took a turn, and realized they were not too far behind you. Enough distance to try to make it seem like they weren’t following you, but you knew.

You decided you’d take the short cut. You had to go through the woods, but it wasn’t too far. The boys behind you wouldn’t know the path, even if they saw you turn off. You’d just run, you thought to yourself.

As you dashed quickly into the woods, your breath was loud in your ears. You were trying not to panic. You would be fine. You heard the footsteps behind you, branches cracking under their feet as their pace picked up. You’d run as far as you could.

Eventually, you slowed down, catching your breath. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to listen for the boys following you. Your heart beat hard in your ears as you took deep breaths. You didn’t hear them anymore. You were in the clear.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and flashed the light, realizing you had no idea where you ended up. You were surrounded by trees, no path in sight.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You started walking where you thought you had come from, hoping to end up back on the path. You’d tripped over something, landing harshly on the hard ground. You hissed in pain as tears started filling your eyes.

You dialled JJ, thinking maybe you had a better chance of reaching him. No answer. You tried Rafe again, and again, and again.

The third time, he picked up. His voice choppy on the other line because of the bad service.

“Rafe?” you cried, overjoyed that he answered. “I need help I-I was walking home and I cut through the woods to get home but I’m lost.”

“Y/N?” Rafe answered. “Where are you?”

“The woods, I-I don’t know where exactly. Please help me, baby,” you cried.

You couldn’t hear his reply as the call dropped. You cursed under your breath again as you began to cry. You didn’t even know if Rafe heard you. You felt yourself starting to crash, the adrenaline wearing off and the effects of the alcohol hitting you all at once. You felt your eyes flutter shut, and succumbed to the exhaustion.

You eyes opened again to a faint sound in the distance. You sat up, disoriented, your head pounding behind your eyes. You winced as you tried to figure out how much time had passed.

You heard a voice in the distance, and as it approached you realize they were calling your name.

Rafe.

He came.

“Rafe!” you screamed as loud as you could, trying to signal to him where you were.

You heard his footsteps pick up as they got closer, and you kept calling out. Eventually he was in front of you, crouch down as his hands cradled your face.

“Baby, oh my god,” he breathed. “I’ve been looking for you, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry I acted like a bitch,” you cried, falling into his chest. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“Shhh I shouldn’t have left you there. I was a fucking asshole. I’m so sorry. What if something happened to you?” he rambled, holding you close.

“These guys were following me so I cut through the woods. I tried to get away,” you breathed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What? Who?” he asked angrily.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sighed. “I just wanna go home.”

*

Rafe brought you inside and into the bathroom, turning the light on.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered. There was a cut down your leg, bleeding from when you tripped. You were covered in dirt, leaves, and branches.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you told him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry baby, I can’t say it enough.”

He turned the shower on, the steam starting to fill the room. He helped you gently peel off your clothes and step in, where he joined behind you. He rinsed off all the dirt and blood, and gently massaged your head with shampoo to wash out the dirt. You began uncontrollably sobbing as the warm water fell down your body, and you were so worn out you didn’t even know why anymore.

Rafe dressed you into your favorite pyjamas and brought you to bed, tucking you in gently. All while whispering that you were okay, that he was sorry, and that he loved you. He set down a glass of water beside you, urging you to drink it.

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Cold?” he asked.

You shook your head, reaching your arms out to him. He fell on the bed beside you as you lay on his chest, his heart beat faster than normal.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered to him, your eyes beginning to close. “I’m okay.

“I don’t know how I can forgive myself,” he said. “What if those guys..” he stopped himself before continuing. He didn’t want to voice what he was thinking. It was unimaginable.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, or walked away when you were clearly upset. It was stupid,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I was just being jealous and stupid. I overreacted.”

“As always,” you chuckled, making the corners of his mouth turn up.

He watched as your eyes began closing, your previously stressed out facial expression smoothing out.

“Just rest, baby,” he cooed as he rubbed his hand along your back. “I won’t leave you again.”

You finally gave in to your exhaustion, just happy to be safe and warm in Rafe’s arms. You didn’t care about the fight anymore, or anything that happened. All that mattered was you were safe. You were okay.

He came back. He would always come back.