#my roommate said this to me and I’ve been thinking about it all day

[orchidseason]

Too Clingy...?

ִ ࣪𖤐 loser!ellie w x fem!reader

After weeks of tension with your roommate, you turn to your girlfriend Ellie for comfort. But when a teasing comment makes you question your place in her life, you distance yourself, afraid of being "clingy."

warnings ִ ࣪𖤐 word count 1.5k, college!AU, established relationship, anxiety (r), overthinking, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, emotional breakdown, mild language, kissing

It had been a rough few weeks. The tension with your roommate had reached a breaking point, and you were finding it hard to breathe, let alone function. Every day felt like a struggle. You’d been feeling emotionally drained, constantly walking on eggshells, and trying to avoid conflict in your own space. Your dorm room had become a place of silence, and it felt like you were suffocating.

One night, after another argument with your roommate that left you feeling small and unimportant, you packed a bag and went straight to Ellie’s. You didn’t even need to text her beforehand—Ellie always knew when you needed her. Her dorm had become your safe space, the place where you could let go of all the tension and just breathe.

Ellie opened the door, her face softening when she saw you. She immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Hey! Woah...what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice gentle.

You sniffled and buried your face in her shoulder. “My roommates a fucking bitch. She argues with me about the stupidest things and leaves passive aggressive sticky notes everywhere and then she just keeps-I just cant do it. Im so done."

Ellie tightened her grip on you, her hands running through your hair soothingly. “Shh, babe. You’re always welcome here, you know that. You don’t need to explain it all to me."

In the weeks that followed, you found yourself at Ellie’s more often than not. Being with her was an escape. You’d spend your evenings wrapped in the warmth of her arms, playing games, watching movies, or simply lying together in a comfortable silence. For the first time in a long time, you truly felt like you could let go of all the stress that had built up.

You and Ellie were lying on her bed, curled up together. You had your head resting on her shoulder while she played Minecraft on her phone, tapping away at the screen as you both enjoyed the quiet of the room. It was one of those perfect moments where everything felt in place. You didn’t need to talk. You didn’t need to do anything except be there with her.

Ellie talked suddenly, breaking the silence. She glanced at you with a teasing grin. “You’re really here every night now, huh? I might start calling you my official roommate. Getting a little clingy, mm?"

The comment hung in the air, and your stomach sank. The word "clingy" hit you like a ton of bricks. She said it with that usual mischievous smile, but something about the way she said it made your chest tighten.

Clingy.

The word echoed in your mind as you lay there, still and frozen. Had you been too much? Was she annoyed with you? You’d been spending so much time at her place lately, leaning on her for comfort when you didn’t know where else to go. Maybe she was tired of it. Maybe she was tired of you.

Ellie went on, completely unaware of how her words had affected you. “I’m just messing with you,” she said, laughing lightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "you know my favorite you is clingy you."

Still, you couldn’t shake the doubt. It festered in the pit of your stomach. Clingy. You wanted to push it out of your mind, but it was all you could think about. Maybe she really was tired of you. Maybe her joke had truth lining in it and she was wanting some space from you.

You stayed quiet, too lost in your head to respond. When the moment passed, you quietly gathered your things, not looking at Ellie. “I should head out... I’ve got a lot of work to do,” you said, your voice soft and distant.

Ellie didn’t seem to notice your change in energy. She was already absorbed in her phone again, focused on the game, not on you. She didn’t look up when you left, but if she had-she would not have let you leave.

As you walked out, your heart felt heavy. Had you been too much? Too clingy? Ellie had always been understanding, but that comment, though playful, made you spiral.

You didn’t go back to your dorm. Instead, you found yourself at the library, hiding away from the world. You tried to focus on your schoolwork, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling in your mind. Was she really tired of you? Had you made things awkward? You didn’t want to burden her anymore, but the more you thought about it, the more you questioned whether she really wanted you around.

Days passed, and you kept your distance. You couldn’t bring yourself to reach out to Ellie. Maybe she was right; maybe you had become clingy, and now you were giving her space to breathe.

You didn't respond to her texts and calls and you're sure that's what set her off to finally just track you down on your shared location one afternoon.

While you were hunched over a stack of textbooks in the library, you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey,” Ellie said softly, making you jump. You didn’t even need to look up to know it was her. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Everything okay?”

"That's good news, isn't it?"

She looks confused, a little hurt, "what...?"

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop it, all the thoughts you’d been bottling up poured out. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you said, voice cracking. “It’s just... It's me. I’ve been overthinking everything since you called me clingy. I know it was a joke, but Ellie it's true. I spend so much time at your dorm, in your space. I didn't want to overwhelm you anymore so I just-"

Ellie knelt in front of you, her gaze softening. “No, hey stop that,” she said gently, taking your hands in hers. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just messing with you. I love having you in my dorm, I prefer it. You’re not clingy. You never could be. I’m sorry I made you feel like you were.”

You bit your lip, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “I didn’t want to make things weird, and here I am making it weird."

Ellie smiled, brushing a hand over your cheek. “You could never make things weird, babe. I promise."

You blinked back tears, suddenly overwhelmed by how much you needed to hear those words. Ellie leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m always here for you, okay? Don’t shut me out.”

You smiled, finally feeling like you could breathe again. You nodded, feeling safe in her arms as she held you close.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” Ellie replied, leaning in after to press a kiss to your lips.

taglist // @kaykeryyy

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 1.03 The Other Paul

10 Years Ago

When we arrived at Roy G. Biv's, we met up with Paul and Danica's friends, Wesley and Nasir.

Wesley was their friend from high school and they'd roomed with him at Foxbury. That's where he met Nasir, who he'd been dating since their freshman year. 

On the outside, they seemed to be sort of a mismatched couple–Wesley was baby-faced with ruddy cheeks while Nasir was scruffy and mysterious–but their bubbly personalities were a perfect match.

“So what do the two of you do for a living?” I asked after we got settled in a seating area away from the dance floor.

“Wesley writes food reviews for a popular website, and I teach yoga,” Nasir explained.

“That’s cool,” I replied. “Paul’s kinda gotten me into yoga. I’m enjoying it so far.”  

“Oh, did you, Paul?” Danica asked, in a tone I had trouble deciphering. Paul shot her a look but didn’t answer, confusing me more.

“Uh, yeah, Hopewell has classes sometimes and Paul asked me to join him a few times. My balance was pretty bad at first, but I’ve gotten a lot better.”

I wasn’t sure why Danica would have a problem with Paul doing yoga with me, but before I had time to think about it any further, Deshawn and Other Paul approached us.

“Hey everyone,” Deshawn greeted the group. “This is my boyfriend, Paul Novak.”

Other Paul waved to everyone. “It’s nice to meet you.” Everyone exchanged greetings and I realized no one had introduced me to the newcomers.

“Nice to meet you both,” I said. Deshawn looked me up and down.

“Likewise,” he replied coolly. “And you are?”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Paul apologizes. “This is my roommate, Johnny.”

“Of course! It’s nice to meet you, Johnny. You and Paul knew each other before you became roommates, correct?”

“Yeah, I work with his sister.”

“At Rainy Day? How nice for you! Are you a producer as well?”

“Uh, not quite. Just a PA. But maybe one day!”

“From what Lucy’s told us about you, she’s really happy with your work,” Wesley interjected. “I bet you’ll be promoted in no time.”

“Thanks, that’s great to hear,” I told him.

On the inside, however, I was feeling very off about the whole outing. Deshawn seemed more interested in making me feel inferior than in introducing his new boyfriend to his friends, plus there was the whole weird exchange between Danica and Paul earlier.

Oh, and Paul forgetting to introduce me, and then calling me Johnny at that. He usually called me John, and I didn't like how it felt when he referred to me the same way that everyone else did. 

Just what was going on here?

The awkwardness faded a bit as the conversation carried on. When Deshawn pulled Other Paul in for a kiss, I saw the look on Paul’s face and started to piece things together a bit.

It seemed like he might have some feelings for Deshawn, but I still wasn’t sure how I fit into all of this. That realization would come much later.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[chamerionwrites]

There are a number of specific personal anecdotes I could cite here. But many years later, the one that (sort of ironically given how it ultimately turned out) hacks me off the most is this:

In college, walking in a park at dusk, with my friend and his two roommates (all dudes). We came over a hill, heard a yelp, and silhouetted against the fading sunset we saw the shadow of a large man throwing what was clearly a much smaller woman to the ground.

My friend and I sprinted down the hill, shouting and clenching our fists, fully prepared to try to fuck this guy up. It’s at this point that I should probably mention that in college I was all of 130 pounds (at 5’9”). My friend Mike was a little Filipino guy several inches shorter than me; I quite possibly outweighed him. (Also he happens to be gay, which is not an indicator of somebody’s prowess in a fight, but you know. Plenty of people sure think that it is.)

This story has a happier and more anticlimactic ending than it may initially appear, because as it turned out this was a guy and his girlfriend goofing around and we jumped to the worst conclusions because it was dark and nobody else was around. She thought the whole thing was hilarious. He was extremely red in the face, but also kind of sheepishly grateful to us for intervening. A minute later Mike’s roommates came down the hill, also looking sheepish and a little wary, and everything was explained and no harm was done.

Afterward one of the roommates playfully took me to task for it. What did I think I was going to do, against this guy who was twice my size? I told him I didn’t really have time to think about it, I just reacted, but I wasn’t going to do nothing. “So you started a fight that I would have had to finish,” he told me. Still playfully, but I thought I could sense some real frustration there. “I’m the one who would have had to intervene, to keep you from getting your ass kicked.”

Like I said he was being playful, and at the time I didn’t react as strongly as I wish I had in hindsight. But the older I’ve gotten and the more I’ve thought about that situation, the angrier I’ve become. I signed him up for a fight? He and the other roommate were the ones waffling at the top of the hill. There were four of us and one of the other guy, and he hung back like a coward, and then he tried to frame that as a failure on my part instead of a failure on his.

This is what I always think about, when I hear that kind of who-will-protect-you-if-not-for-traditionally-masculine-men whining. As a person who tends to get along pretty well with men, whose most beloved and admired friends are and always have been mostly men, who frankly has always had a bit of trouble making friends with women and fitting into women-only spaces (and there is A LOT to be said about the whys of this, much of it about toxic femininity and women as enforcers of misogyny and the gendered violence they will aim at other women who don’t Do Gender correctly - so don’t clown in my notes)….I have enormous respect and admiration for my male friends! I get as annoyed as anyone when people are unnecessarily shitty to or about men.

But also, I’m gonna be real with you guys. When the chips are down far too many of you - white straight cis men especially - are abject self-centered cowards who will not raise a finger to defend anyone more vulnerable than yourselves. Who actively loathe vulnerability, in fact, because you have been taught to have zero compassion for it in either others or (tragically) yourself. Who would not last even a single day in the shoes of the women and queer people that you secretly or not-so-secretly consider soft.

Possibly THE most obnoxious misogynist talking point to me personally is the whining about how only a good guy with a gun patriarchal masculinity can stop a bad guy with a gun patriarchal masculinity, so you stupid women had better stop shit-talking men (complaining about misogyny) because who will protect you otherwise?

Uh, statistically? Not you.

Anecdotally, in 9 out of 10 cases the person who intervenes when a man is being violent/threatening/creepy/etc is a woman or a queer dude, so. Also not you.

[dr0p-d69d]

Call me black hole sun the way I haven’t come yet

[arionaleilani]

1. it’s my 24th birthday today, so my goal of being published by the time i’m 25 is now a one year looming monster, but i never specified what kind of published and am currently looking in various literary magazines that are recommended for writers who have yet to be published, so i’m surprisingly confident that i can make it work? and tbh even if whatever i write isn’t officially published before my 25th birthday, if i have someone in the process of being published then i’ll be happy!! no matter what though, i’m gonna try to be proud of myself for at least giving it my best shot!!

2. i honestly love that my birthday is on the ides of march because the ides of march meme shitposting is only a thing on tumblr but it also being my birthday makes it easier to like. be excited about the ides of march outside of tumblr. like even in person i can be like “it’s my birthday! i’m an ides of march babe (:” and if someone is like oh what’s that? or if they say something along the lines of oh like julius caesar? i can be like yep!! and even if it’s a small thing outside of tumblr it brings me immense enjoyment and amusement being able to bring it up off of tumblr

3. transportation situation has been very rough since june 2023 when i totalled my car, my gap insurance are being assholes and i ended up putting my foot down on the phone with them yesterday which i’m pretty proud of because i am NOT a confrontational person (something i’ve been working on this past year, so seeing some improvement with my ability to hold my ground and not be a pushover yesterday was very cool!!) i was told i’d get a response from them by friday next week no matter what, and if i don’t then friday of next week i will continue to wreak havoc upon them. but my moms car which i’ve been using since my accident broke down yesterday, hopefully it’s fixable but my parents were saying it might be done for, so trying to think of how i’m gonna get to work next week is kind of stressing me out lmao, but for now i’m just gonna focus on enjoying my birthday the best i can because i don’t want to start off being 24 with an overwhelming anxiety for something that won’t be a potential issue until monday. plus i already messaged my boss today to let her know that i’m going to do everything i can to make it work out but just so she’s in the loop and knows of the potential of me not being able to make my morning shifts (one of my coworkers said she’s more than happy to give me a ride for our afternoon shifts which does help relieve some of the stress!) and i told her i’d let her know for sure sunday so that if necessary she can have time to figure out someone to fill in for me in the mornings!

overall: life is weird and i ended being 23 yesterday with a shitty situation but a positive outlook and i am going to enjoy my first day of being 24 no matter what because honestly i fucking earned it. happy friday everyone, i hope it’s a good day for you and me both!

[luveline]

i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's just miserable that no one remembered his birthday at work but when he gets home his roommate just welcomes him with the most thoughtful gift and a warm hug PLEASE

thank you for requesting! <3 fem!reader

The lights are off. The air conditioning blows a shade too cold. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and acknowledges that, despite his awful, aching day, it’s nice to be home. 

The living room is clean where it hadn’t been this morning when he left. If he had to clean it by himself, he’d die. It must’ve taken a good hour or longer, even the floor shines sparkling clean. 

“Hey?” he asks into the open air, wondering where you are. 

“Spencer!” you yelp from the kitchen, “Hey, what took you so long? It’s almost seven!” 

He sighs to himself with a great dash of self-pity. “I know. Had to stay and finish something. You cleaned?” 

“I had to! Quick, come in here, I need your help with something.” 

He doesn’t want to help, he wants to lay down in bed. Spencer wonders how a normal person, a normal boy, would feel after a day like today. He wonders if Morgan would go home and lay in bed and cry. He wonders if it could ever be possible for everyone to forget Morgan’s birthday. 

Spencer hangs his jacket on the rack and puts his bag by the shoes. He’s tempted to go to bed and pretend he hasn’t heard you, but he supposes he shouldn’t. He’d sort of been hoping you’d text him happy birthday, and but that never happened. He doesn’t think anybody in the world besides his mom knows what day it is today, and Spencer had to remind her, so. 

“Spence,” you say, your smile of a calibre he’s never witnessed, standing in front of the kitchen island with your hands behind your back, “I hope you know I’ve been waiting two whole hours for you to get back. Actually, I’ve been waiting all day, but you can’t be blamed for working. Okay. Are you ready?” 

“Am I ready? What did you want help with?” 

You step to the side, grinning, the sleeves of your nice blouse like big, soft petals around your wrists and against your thighs. “Tada!” you say, guiding his attention to the silver platter on the countertop, a chocolate cake at centre stage and stuck with candles, flames aglow. “I rushed to light them when I heard the door,” you tell him, and he can hear your breathlessness now, your excitement for him evident. “A lot of candles, you’re getting old! Too old for chocolate sprinkle. I should’ve got you something sophisticated.” 

“You got me a cake?” 

“It’s your birthday,” you say happily. “Happy birthday, Spencer. I got you some presents, too, but the cake is the best, it’s from the Leaven. How fancy is that?” 

“Will you sing?” he asks. 

He doesn’t know why he asks. He’s mostly kidding, but you smile shyly and beckon him toward you. “I’ll sing. Come stand over here.” 

You sing him happy birthday, and he blows out his candles, only ten candles altogether but enough to feel like a kid as the heat kisses his chin. 

“Okay, and I got you this,” you say, finally pulling both hands from behind your back, seemingly eager to move the focus from your performance.

It’s a bundle about as thick as an average novel. He knows it’ll be books before he opens it, because you know him, and it’s in your nature to give him your everything. 

He doesn’t look at them. He takes the package blindly and shoves it onto the counter, wrapping you in a hug so hard it makes your back click. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go. You don’t make him. “Sorry, I just– I–” You’re the only one who remembered. “Thank you for the cake.” 

You hug him not quite as hard, but tight. “Hey, it’s okay. I love you, you’re my best friend ever, you can pop me like a roll of dough any day of the week.” You might be exaggerating. Spencer doesn’t know. “But especially today, you know. You can have anything you want.” 

Spencer should let go. Anything you want, you’d said. He hugs you until he’s sure you’re sick of him, your thumb pressing little circles into his shoulder, his arms tucked up under your armpits and around your back. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“What?” he asks. “For what?” 

“For such a good hug. And being a great roommate. And for not complaining about the candles.” 

“The candles are perfect.” 

You lean back in his arms. “Thank you. Now what do you want first, cake or dinner?” 

Spencer really wants another hug. “Um. Cake?” 

“Good choice, handsome.”

His cheeks are pink by the time he gets a slice, but it’s the best birthday cake he’s ever had.

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[oceanicwriting]

smile for the camera.

summary: ever since you confessed to your friend that one of your fantasies was to record a sex tape, everything has been strange. one day, after finishing the week, he is waiting for you in your dorm with a camera and ready to do whatever he wants with it.

pairing(s): bsf!lorenzo berkshire × fem!reader

a/n: second lorenzo fic! i liked this one a lot more than the last one. i hope you enjoy it ;-).

+18 smut, masturbation (f!m receiving), oral sex (m!receiving), doggy, praising, cursing

ㅤㅤㅤit's been a week since you confessed to lorenzo berkshire, your best friend at hogwarts, that recording yourself having sex was one of your fantasies. whenever you remembered it, a shiver ran through your body. although he had made fun of it the night you confessed it, he hasn't said anything else since then, maybe because you've avoided him or he knew the jokes made you feel bad.

ㅤㅤㅤ—everything okay? —you look at your potions desk mate, luna lovegood, who has her eyes filled with worry—. i’ve been talking to you for a while now.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod frantically, assuring her that you’ve been thinking about something else, but nothing is happening.

ㅤㅤㅤthinking about what? lorenzo and your best kept secret.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen class ends, you know that it wasn’t just luna who had noticed your disconnection from the real world, being called by master slughorn to ask if something was wrong outside of class. of course, you lie, because nothing would be more embarrassing than admitting what was eating away your thoughts.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen you return to your dorm, your books hugged to your chest and shuffling through the exhausting week, you could only think about how much you wanted to hide in the sheets of your bed until monday. that wasn't going to be possible because lorenzo is leaning outside your door waiting for you to arrive.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what are you doing? —you question, instantly catching his attention—. everyone can see you here.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, it's not like they don't know we're friends.

ㅤㅤㅤyou deny, opening your bedroom door and noticing that your roommates aren't there.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no, but imagine what are they going to think if you wait for me outside my bedroom.

ㅤㅤㅤhe smirks at your unusual reaction. in any other situation, you would have greeted him with a huge smile, inviting him in to hang out and talk all afternoon. the problem is that this wasn't just any situation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need to talk to you —he says. you're standing, holding the door to stop him from passing—. it's important.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look up at him, noticing the dark spots under his eyes. lorenzo berkshire, who always had such perfectly smooth skin, had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept properly in days.

ㅤㅤㅤ—please. —his eyes make you flinch, pushing yourself aside so he can pass—. thank you.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen you’re both inside, you close the door behind you, and lorenzo sits down on your bed. you stand a step away from him, waiting for him to start the conversation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i imagine you already know what i want to talk about, —he says, relaxing into his spot—. about your fantasy.

ㅤㅤㅤthe mere mention of your secret makes your cheeks flush a bright red, making you uneasy at the way he’s looking at you from his position.

ㅤㅤㅤneither of you had admitted that there was something much bigger than friendship between you. lorenzo had never accepted it for fear of losing you, but you for fear of getting hurt. you knew each other too well to know that any relationship beyond friendship might not last long. although he had found a possible solution that would manage to silence the force that attracts you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm sorry if i made you feel bad with what i said, but... was it necessary to avoid me all week? did you think i wouldn't notice?

ㅤㅤㅤ—enzo, it wasn't because of that. i mean, yes, you made me feel bad for judging me. it's just that i was embarrassed to see you again.

ㅤㅤㅤhe sighs, letting a soft laugh escape his lips.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you should have told me.

ㅤㅤㅤyou smile, shrugging and looking him straight in the eyes. then you notice lorenzo rummaging through his black and green cloak, pulling out of the darkness a black device that you can't identify until he lets it rest on your bed. a video camera. lorenzo damn berkshire had just brought a video camera into your bedroom.

ㅤㅤㅤ—why did you bring that? —you question, looking for the door behind you to escape.

ㅤㅤㅤ—listen to me, please, listen to me —he begs, getting up from the bed to approach you—. your fantasy... your fantasy could help us take all the weight off our backs.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look at him, stopping your hand on the door handle.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i know you can feel it. i can tell how you long for something to happen between us. isn't that right?

ㅤㅤㅤ—what do you mean?

ㅤㅤㅤhis smile widens when your hand stops holding the door, lowering your defenses at his proximity. he looked cute when he smiled, showing all his teeth, reaching his cheekbones and making his small brown eyes shine.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that you and i can take advantage of your fantasy to get rid of what we want —he says, his hand caressing your cheek to remove a small lock of hair—. if you just say yes.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hand reaches for the door handle again, but this time, it is to emit a soft click that locks the door. then, your hands wander over lorenzo's chest, removing the cape that falls to the floor and the tie. when you both reach the bed, he falls with a huge smile drawn on his face, eager to feel you, touch you, listen to you, and taste you as he had long hoped.

ㅤㅤㅤyou remain standing, looking at him lying on the bed in such an appetizing way that you can feel your panties getting wet. he knew exactly how to put you that way, although you had never done it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—record me —you whisper, making the boy's eyes shine at the order—. focus on me.

ㅤㅤㅤhe reaches for the camera at the edge of the bed, turning it on and starting to record. through the small screen, he watches you take off your cape, tie, and blouse that was squeezing your bra.

ㅤㅤㅤ—don't take off your skirt —he says, patting her waist twice—. get on here.

ㅤㅤㅤyou obey, straddling his member that slowly gets harder with the movements of your hips. lorenzo lowers the camera's focus until he records how your panties rub against his pants, lifting your skirt to get a better view of the bulge that is pressing against you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how many nights i dreamed of fucking you using your skirt —he says, his voice hoarse and deep making you tremble—. a true beauty.

ㅤㅤㅤ—give me the camera —lorenzo passes it to you, and you focus on him from the head to the end of his chest—. take off your clothes, enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤhe unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you have to look at him angrily, making a narcissistic smile form on his lips and hurry his nakedness. his bare chest looks so exquisite in the lens that your hands can't help but run over his body.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you like what you see?

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you are so precious, enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo snatches the camera from you in one movement, pinning you to the bed with his body. his bare chest collides with yours, and his arm holds the camera inches from your faces facing each other. your breathing mingle with his, lighting a flame deep within your core.

ㅤㅤㅤ—kiss me, lorenzo. please kiss me until i can’t breathe.

ㅤㅤㅤhis lips latch onto yours with a demanding, electrifying force that makes you reciprocate with the same force. his hot tongue thrusts inside your mouth to fight with yours, making you laugh against his lips. lorenzo then sets the camera down on the bed and moves his hand down to your wet panties, moving them aside to massage your clit with his thumb.

ㅤㅤㅤthe sensation runs through your body with an electrifying exquisiteness that makes you moan in his mouth. then, lorenzo kisses your bare chest, sucking some parts of your skin and leaving a last kiss where your skirt begins. then, he stands up, his hand still working on making you writhe against the massage of his finger.

ㅤㅤㅤ—smile for the camera, beautiful —he says, taking the camera to focus on your face when it stops being touched by his hands—. do you want me to record what i do?

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo brings two fingers to your mouth so you can fill them with saliva and suck them before bringing them to your entrance. the simple image of the boy with the camera in his hands, pointing towards your tight pussy under your skirt and bringing his fingers to fuck you was enough to make you shudder.

ㅤㅤㅤ—here we go. —he runs his fingers from your clit to your entrance, making you squirm eagerly for his touch—. fuck, you're so hot.

ㅤㅤㅤand lorenzo makes his way inside you. his fingers sink so deep that it's impossible to avoid the gasp that leaves your lips. he pushes in the right places inside you to make you moan louder and louder, stretching your insides when he separates his fingers a little and slowly masturbates your clit with his thumb. the sensations were endless at that moment.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you look so damn gorgeous. —the camera paints your face again, this time more messy and whimpering from the intrusion of his hand—. take off your bra.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hands, shaking from the waves of pleasure that run through your body, manage to take off your garment. he films your breasts moving with you from the shudder, tasting from the screen the perfect shape and size he had dreamed of having in his hands. although that would have to wait.

ㅤㅤㅤ—touch yourself, —he says, his thick, demanding voice filling the entire room—. come on, don’t be shy.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hands travel to your breasts, squeezing and playing with your nipples as lorenzo’s hand continues to do its thing. there are so many sounds mixing together that it’s impossible to focus on what’s happening, making you squirm more and more and whimper at the sensations spreading throughout your body. you were feeling all your libido build up in your core, right where lorenzo moved his hand one last time, and your whole body convulses.

ㅤㅤㅤthe camera in lorenzo's hands doesn't waste a second in recording your wet and satisfied pussy, to focus on your face trying to catch your breath.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i can't believe you're letting me see this, gorgeous. so perfect when you cum in my hand, don't you think? —he says, leaving the camera on the bed at the height of your hips—. i'd like it more if you cum on my cock.

ㅤㅤㅤhe catches your mouth with an initial delicacy that turns into a murderous desire. your tongue fights against his, seeking much more by attracting him from the neck. lorenzo tangles one hand in your hair, and the other travels to your waist to turn you on the bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ—should we try? —he asks, running a hand down your back to your ass, removing your skirt along the way—. you don’t know how long i waited to see this ass of yours smack into my pelvis while i’m taking you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—who’s a needy boy? —you can hear his laugh behind your back and his hand lift your hip to leave your entire ass exposed. his hand still tangled in your hair forces you up—. i’m going to take you so good, enzo. i promise.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i know you will. —he turns the camera screen to notice that it’s at the perfect angle—. and i want you to see it.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo forces you to bury your cheek into the bed so that you can see the small screen where you can notice your body against his. he unbuttons his pants, letting them fall down his legs at the same time that he takes his erect cock, masturbating himself. you push your ass back in search of helping him with that.

ㅤㅤㅤ—let me help you —you whisper, feeling it slide down your buttocks, staining it with the accumulated precum—. e-enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤhe growls at the feeling of your soft, warm buttocks squeezing his member, generating a gentle rocking that you squeeze from time to time. the view was like any other dream, although this time everything was much more perfect.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm going to lose my mind, love. i've wanted to have this view for so long, and now you're giving it to me with honors.

ㅤㅤㅤ—because i know you'll make me feel good —you whisper, lorenzo searching in your folds for a little moisture to separate and spread it along the length of his cock—. i'm so ready for you.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo positions you, one of his hands gripping his member and the other, squeezing your waist to keep you in the perfect position. he slowly makes his way inside you, scraping every corner of your entrance with pain that turns to pleasure instantly after.

ㅤㅤㅤ—are you okay?

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod, causing lorenzo’s hips to move back and thrust into you again. the growl combined with your soft moan is enough to make him lose his mind, beginning to increase the movement of his hips against your ass. each time he thrust into you again, he did with more force and speed than the previous one, taking your hip to deepen the shock of your body against his.

ㅤㅤㅤclap, clap, clap. the sound getting clearer and louder makes your head hurt, mixing exquisitely with lorenzo's embarrassed sighs and moans behind you. seeing everything from the camera screen was stirring up all the sensations in you much more than you wanted to admit, squeezing his cock inside you and moaning louder and louder.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're doing perfect. keep it up.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo tangles one of his hands in your hair again, forcing you to get up to reach your neck, ear, and shoulders with the wetness of his mouth. his movements have not stopped at any time, attacking your breasts with his free hand and kissing your cheeks softly.

ㅤㅤㅤ—l-lorenzo —you moan, stretching your arms back to hold onto his neck.

ㅤㅤㅤ—tell me, baby. what's wrong?

ㅤㅤㅤhe can feel you squeezing him the same way he squeezed your fingers a moment ago.

ㅤㅤㅤ—j-just keep doing that. keep moving. —your hands tie themselves in his hair, pulling his head closer to yours—. kiss me.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo smiles at the pleading tone of your soft voice. his free hand stops squeezing your nipples, moving down your abdomen until he finds your clit.

ㅤㅤㅤ—as you wish.

ㅤㅤㅤhis mouth captures yours at the same time his hand begins to massage your overstimulated clit. you were both restless, close to exploding and throbbing in every imaginable part of your sweaty bodies. your mouths move messily over each other at the endless moans escaping you and lorenzo's faster movement against you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—shit.

ㅤㅤㅤand your entire body tightens in a spasm that makes your juices explode all over lorenzo's cock.

ㅤㅤㅤ—just a l-little more, love —he says, still moving and growling against your ear. your entire body is exhausted, but you try to keep up with the pace that lorenzo hasn't stopped—. i'm close...

ㅤㅤㅤhe lets go of you, letting your body fall against the mattress and pulling out of you to masturbate a little to wet your back with the semen that shoots out of his member. you can hear him catching his breath standing there, burning your broken body on the bed with his gaze and laughing softly.

ㅤㅤㅤ—wasn’t this fun? —he says, you can see him taking the camera, while his other hand helps you turn on the bed—. what a dreamy view.

ㅤㅤㅤyour cheeks heat up because now that everything was over, the embarrassment begins to form in the pit of your stomach.

ㅤㅤㅤ—one last kiss?

ㅤㅤㅤyour eyes travel down his body standing there. and maybe you could take advantage of the situation a little more, because if you were going to make a video like that, you had to do everything to save the memory, not only on that camera.

ㅤㅤㅤyou move on top of the bed, getting closer to the edge. one of your hands hugs his flaccid member, making him jump a little. the boy's expression is the one you expected, confused and unfinished.

ㅤㅤㅤ—one last kiss —you say, just before kissing the tip of his penis that was beginning to harden in front of your eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what...

ㅤㅤㅤyour tongue moistens its entire length, making it harden instantly. then, smiling as if you were about to try your favorite sweet, you embrace his cock with your hot mouth. one of your hands helps you cover the length you can't, allowing yourself to suck on what your hand shamelessly masturbates him. he moans every now and then, pointing the camera at your face.

ㅤㅤㅤyou kiss, suck, and taste, wanting to remember every part of his length in the most secret part of your mind. lorenzo grabs your hair and sighs before pushing his hips against you, announcing that he needs much more to be able to finish inside your mouth.

ㅤㅤㅤ—take it well, babe. —your eyes fill with tears at the feeling of his tip hitting your throat—. you're doing so well. don't be afraid.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo's hips pushing deeper and deeper, mouth salivating from the edge of your lips and camera pointing from every possible angle. everything was happening so fast that your blurry eyes couldn't notice much more than lorenzo's glorious sounds.

ㅤㅤㅤ—so delicious and appetizing —he whispers, noticing how your mouth does its best to keep up with his own movement—. incredible that you let me see this.

ㅤㅤㅤyour tongue runs over the tip of his member that begins to tremble inside your mouth. lorenzo growls, letting go of your hair and clenching his hands on the camera that continues to point in your direction.

ㅤㅤㅤ—almost...

ㅤㅤㅤone last thrust is enough for all of lorenzo's semen to end up burning in your mouth. his brown gaze observes you without being able to believe the remains of substance that escape from your lips, while the rest travels from your mouth to the bottom of your stomach.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're going to drive me completely crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤyou laugh, running your forearm over the stains on your mouth.

ㅤㅤㅤ—enough recording —you say, raising your hand to reach the camera—. enzo!

ㅤㅤㅤ—let me record you a little longer or i'm afraid i'll forget your body.

ㅤㅤㅤyou get up from the bed to reach the device and end the recording in the middle of a laugh. you look at lorenzo, who still looks at you mesmerized by the nakedness of your body.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, you could never forget my body —you say, pulling him with you to the bed completely undone. your hand brushes away some strands of hair on his face—. because if one day you forget, you can come find me.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo looks at you, one of his hands holding all his weight on you and the other clenched on your hip.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you will make me the happiest man in the world.ㅤ

[sonarspace]

INK & SKIN (FT. CHOSO & GETO)

synopsis. who better to give you your first tattoo than choso's roommate, who walked in on you and choso a week ago. (can be read with or without the prequel) wc. 2.7k content. college au. choso x reader. geto x reader. choso x geto. choso x geto x reader. 3söme. ōral (deep thrōat. cūnnilingus.) slight vōyeurism. slight ëxhibitionism. unprotėcted. and just messy.

it had been a few days since the party, and you found yourself spending almost every night with choso, wrapped up in each other as if the world outside didn’t exist. tonight was no different; the warmth of his body against yours felt intoxicating.

as your fingers traced over the intricate designs of his chest tattoo, a thought crossed your mind. “you know, i’ve always wanted to get a tattoo,” you said softly, your eyes drifting over the ink.

choso raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming. “my roommate's a tattoo artist. i could take you to his shop.”

it was late, the kind of quiet that made you feel like the world was pausing just for you. choso walked beside you, flipping the "closed" sign on the door as you both entered the shop. your eyes scanned the room until they landed on none other than geto—headphones on, working on a stencil.

you froze. shit. it was him. the same guy who walked in on you and choso, his heated gaze still lingering in your mind.

“i think he’s busy, let’s go,” you muttered, turning away, but choso chuckled.

“he doesn’t bite,” choso teased.

before you could make a move, geto pulled out his headphones, casually greeting both of you. “hey,” he said to choso. his gaze furrowed as it landed on your back. choso nudged you to turn around, and geto’s eyes widened slightly, recognition dawning. it’s her. he swallowed hard, the memory of that night flashing in his mind. “hey…” your name slipped from his lips, voice smooth as silk.

geto stood up, the sound of his chair scraping lightly against the floor as he moved. he walked over, extending a hand first to choso with a casual smile, then to you. his fingers were cool against your skin as he shook your hand, his eyes holding yours for just a second longer than necessary. “nice to meet you... officially,” he said.

choso leaned back against the counter, watching the exchange with a smirk playing at his lips. “so, think you can fit her in tonight?” he asked, clearly enjoying himself.

geto’s gaze flickered from choso back to you, a slow smile forming. “i think i’ve got time for her,” he replied, turning toward his station. “what were you thinking of getting?”

your heart pounded as you tried to focus, but all you could think of was that night—his eyes meeting you in the mirror, the way he’d watched.

you hesitated for a moment, glancing at choso, who gave you an encouraging nod. “i was thinking about something small. maybe somewhere hidden, like on my ribs or hips,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

geto nodded, pulling out a sketchpad. “i can draw something up for you. any ideas?”

as you described what you had in mind, you noticed the way he focused, his brows furrowing slightly as he concentrated. there was something magnetic about him, drawing you in.

“i think i can work with that,” he finally said, a thoughtful expression on his face. he began sketching, his pencil moving across the paper.

as geto worked on the design, sketching a few different styles, choso moved closer to you. he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin. “are you nervous?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, humming lowly. “i can feel your pulse racing,” he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin. “just calm down. geto’s good at his job.”

you tried to steady your breath, but his touch only made it harder.

geto finished up, glancing over at you and choso, a smirk playing on his lips. “you two look cozy,” he teased. “you can lie down here and let me know where you want it.”

you took a deep breath, your heart racing as you settled onto the tattoo table. “i’d like it on my hip,” you confirmed, glancing up at him.

geto nodded, motioning for you to pull up your shirt slightly. “here?” he asked, placing the stencil just above the peeking band of your pink lacey underwear. the design featured two heart-shaped cherries, intertwining with delicate vines, with the words stems of love written in tiny lettering.

as geto prepped the tattoo gun, choso leaned closer, his presence warm and reassuring. “you’re going to be fine,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze just as the needle touched your skin.

the initial sting made you flinch, but choso’s fingers ran through your hair, his touch calming you. “focus on me,” he murmured. you locked eyes with him, feeling the rhythmic buzz of the gun and the gentle pressure of geto’s hand on your thigh as he began outlining the design.

choso leaned in closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he pressed soft kisses against your neck. every brush of his lips sent shivers racing down your spine. you could feel geto’s eyes on you, and when he shot you that teasing smile, your heart skipped a beat. the buzz of the needle was a wild mix of pain and pleasure, heightening your senses. you bit your lip, feeling the needle glide over your skin while choso’s lips left a trail of warmth against your neck.

“you’re doing great,” geto said, glancing up from his work. the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk, clearly enjoying the sight of you caught between pleasure and a hint of pain. “i can see you like all this attention, huh?”

“you have no idea,” choso chimed in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he looked down at you. you playfully smacked his hand, narrowing your eyes at him.

geto chuckled. “i think she loves it, choso. look at that cute little blush.” he glanced up from the tattoo, then returned his focus to his work.

as geto resumed, you shot choso a sly look and mouthed, “you’re evil.”

but you were hyper-aware of geto’s elbow pressed against your thigh, not too far from where the wetness was growing. choso’s eyes flicked down, a chuckle escaping his lips as he noticed you squeezing your thighs together.

choso smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “someone’s getting a bit restless,” he said playfully. you shot him an indignant look, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

geto glanced up. “you’re distracting her,” he said.

“just making sure she’s comfortable,” choso replied, his eyes twinkling. “can’t let my girl get too worked up, right?”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks only deepened.

“want me to make you feel good?” choso asked, his voice dropping low and sultry. before you could process his words, he moved behind the table, leaning down so his face was upside down, locked on yours. he gripped your jaw gently, his thumb brushing your lips.

you tried so hard not to squirm, to stay still as geto almost finished working on your tattoo.

“we can multitask,” choso murmured against your lips. his eyes flicked to geto’s hand as he finished the last details of the tattoo. choso's lips paused above yours as geto spoke up.

“all done”. he cleaned up, wrapping your new ink. you whispered, “want him to join us”.

choso’s smile widened as he glanced up at geto, both of them exchanging silent words. you sat up, your heart racing, with both of them now flanking you on either side. the intensity of their gazes made you want to sink into the ground—or more so, want them to sink into your holes and fill you up. “fuck,” you half-whined, crossing your legs as both of them looked down at you, matching chuckles escaping their lips.

geto tilted your chin toward him, tipping your head up to kiss you while choso pressed a kiss against your neck. you whined into geto's mouth, and choso smiled against your skin, trailing kisses from your neck to geto's neck.

you felt the world around you fade away, leaving just the three of you lost in the intimacy of it all.

geto’s grip tightened on the back of choso’s neck, pulling him closer as he joined the kiss. choso leaned in, their lips brushing against yours and each other’s, making you press against them. both of their hands moved over your front, palming your tits.

you pulled back from the kiss, gripping both their necks, forcing them to kiss each other while their hands roamed over your tits, squishing and teasing. leaning back on your arms, a moan escaped your lips as you pressed your knees into their crotches, feeling their growing hardness against you, fueling the heat building between the three of you.

they pulled away from the kiss, the three of you chuckling as your eyes locked. you slid off the table, standing between them. fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers as you helped each other strip away layers, laughter mixing with the heat of the moment. clothes hit the floor in a messy heap, walking the line between what was and what was about to be.

choso pulled you closer, lips crashing against yours, hands roaming your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he deepened the kiss.

your head spun, his taste intoxicating. geto’s body brushed against you, breath hot against your ear as he pressed kisses over your earlobe, licking the shell and pulling your hair back to shower kisses along your neck. his hands slid down to your panties, pushing your leg to angle you further apart while choso devoured your mouth.

“on your knees, choso,” he drawled. choso complied, pulling down your panties as he sank to his knees.

“grind on his face.” his voice dripped with authority— you’d jump off a cliff if he asked.

choso’s hands gripped your thighs, tugging you forward to sit on his face. geto watched, a smirk on his lips, as you tangled your fingers in choso’s hair, doing exactly as you were told.

with a slight tug, geto positioned himself behind choso, pulling him away from your slick heat to let a glob of his saliva drip onto choso’s tongue. “fuck it into her,” he commanded.

choso wasted no time, pushing his tongue between your folds and past that tight clench, mixing geto's saliva with your arousal. you rolled your eyes back, falling forward, one hand gripping the tattoo bed, the other clutching geto’s arms.

geto guided your hand down to the hardness in his boxers, letting you feel him. he tugged it down, and you moaned at the sight of him—slightly curved, flushed, such a pretty red. you wanted nothing more than to take him into your mouth.

leaning forward, you wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it slowly. the weight made you dizzy, thoughts swirling around how he would feel buried deep inside you.

your hand slid up and down his shaft, and the way he twitched under your touch made your heart race. you leaned in closer, pressing soft kisses along the tip, feeling the warmth radiate against your lips. you wanted him—needed him—so badly that it made your mouth water.

“fuck, you’re driving me insane,” geto breathed, and you looked up to see the heat pooling in his gaze. with a teasing smile, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head, savoring the salty pre-cum that dripped from him.

the sound of choso’s hungry moans vibrated against your core, slick pooling between your thighs and on the sides of his face. choso gripped your thighs tighter, tugging you closer as his tongue flicked at your sensitive clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

“just like that,” geto encouraged, his voice thick with lust. “keep going.”

you obeyed, bobbing your head up and down on geto’s cock while choso worshiped your pussy. the air around you was filled with slurping sounds and moans, echoing through the tattoo parlor.

“god, you taste so fucking good,” choso groaned, and you felt your core tighten at his words. you could sense the urgency in his movements, the way he desperately tried to push you closer to the edge.

“just a little more,” geto coaxed, fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper. you complied, relaxing your throat.

then, suddenly, choso pulled away from your cunt. he shifted, pushing his mouth between geto's thighs. he focused on geto's balls, sucking gently while flicking his tongue against them.

“f-fuck,” geto stammered, his breath hitching. the feeling of choso's mouth working so eagerly drove him wild. in a moment of pure instinct, he bucked his hips forward, pushing deeper into your mouth.

you gagged, the pressure overwhelming as you struggled to take him fully.

geto pulled you off his cock, a lustful glint in his eyes. “get back on the table,” he commanded, guiding you to sit back on the tattoo bed. choso adjusted his position behind geto, pressing kisses along his back and shoulders.

geto moved between your thighs, his mouth watering at the sight of you. “no wonder choso’s barely home,” he groaned, diving into your soaked folds.

the moment his tongue made contact, you gasped, back arching as geto began to devour you. his mouth moved hungrily, drinking you in as if you were the sweetest nectar.

choso watched, mesmerized by the way you writhed under geto's touch. before you could comprehend it, two tongues were stimulating your cunt, overwhelming your senses.

your hands tangled in their hair, pulling them closer as one tongue plunged into you and the pressed at your clit. you felt that sweet release building, threatening to spill over. geto's fingers flicked at your sensitive nipple, making you whimper.

with a desperate cry, you came, your body shaking as the orgasm rippled through you. they lapped at you like starved men, alternating between kissing your soppy cunt and each other. you could barely pull away, feeling overstimulated.

they both pulled away, breathless, their lips glistening with your release. leaning up, their mouths met yours in a messy, wet kiss that tasted of you.

hands tangled in each other's hair, you all deepened the kiss, tongues sliding against one another. spit spilled from the corners of your mouths as you breathed each other in, soft whines escaping your throats, blending into one another.

geto pulled back, lifting you with ease as he guided you to the couch. you sank into the cushions, and he knelt between your thighs while choso settled beside you, sitting on his knees on the couch. gripping geto’s chin, choso pulled him toward his cock. as geto began thrusting into you, he found a steady rhythm, and choso mirrored it, fucking geto’s mouth in sync. geto pushed deeper inside you while choso tugged at his hair, urging him to take more.

the room was thick with the messy sounds of pleasure—sloshing, gagging, moaning, and the sharp slap of skin meeting skin. geto's cock slid deeper inside you, perfectly in sync with choso fucking his mouth. choso gripped your chin, kissing you softly as he whispered, “such a sweet girl, taking him so well.” your moan vibrated against his lips, completely lost in the pleasure.

"suguru,” you cried out, your voice trembling as the tight coil inside you snapped. your body tightened around geto, spilling a low, needy groan, muffled by choso’s cock.

he pulled out of you, his mouth slipping off of choso’s length. both of them watched in awe as your cunt fluttered, drenched in your juices. the sight of you, head laid back on the couch, breathless, had them both groaning in unison. without breaking eye contact, the two raven-haired men stroked themselves, hot, sticky ropes spilling across your stomach and thighs, coating your skin in a messy sheen of white.

they let out soft, satisfied groans as they came down from their highs, fingers grazing over the mess they’d made. with a smirk, they brought their slicked fingers to your lips. you eagerly sucked them clean, gripping their wrists tightly, eyes rolling back at the mixed taste of you and them.

they moved closer, their lips pressing against yours, tongues intertwining in a hot, messy kiss. you all let out amused chuckles as you fumbled to connect. you pull back, looking between them with a soft smile as you stroke their cheeks, whispering, “my pretty boys.” the affection in your voice makes them both grin.

an. might be my last kinktober fic until 31st oct cause my schedule's getting really hectic *cries* more kinktober fics -> here! ⸝⸝ reblogs, likes & comments are appreciated

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[tinycoffeeroom]

more than enough | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

requested: Hi lovely, I loved just friends!! Since reading, all I’ve been able to thinking about is bestfriend/roomate Lando. Maybe you’re not able to join him for race weekend and he hasn’t heard from you, like at all. When he returns, he thinks you’re not home until he hears the sobs and realises something is really wrong. Maybe you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and Lando is standing on the other side of your locked bedroom door, absolutely in love with you and hurting because you’re hurting 🫠

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍 Miami

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 1,387,928 others

landonorris WE FUCKING DID IT!!!!! P1 in Miami!!!!! you bitches can't call me lando nowins anymore!!!

See 997,729 other comments

fan you can tell lando runs his own social media... ↳ mclaren it is our biggest burden

oscarpiastri well done mate! well deserved! ♥️ landonorris ↳ landonorris you next osc!!!

maxverstappen1 i said i'd have to collect my wins before you start coming for them, congrats winner! ♥️ landonorris

mclaren our papaya boy, you will always be loved (heart) ♥️ landonorris

fan WHERE IS Y/N?????? ↳ fan lando said in an interview that she couldn't come this week!!!! i'm sure she texted / called him

fan i know y/ns screaming and crying at the fact she couldn't be there this week

fan no lando / y/n hugging photo :((((( i miss my best friends

liked by fan, fan and 19,036 others

f1gossip Lando Norris' roommate and best friend Y/N L/N was caught in a heated argument with her recently debuted beau outside a restaurant in Monaco. The person who sent the photo in was too far away to hear the argument, but said Y/N seemed despondent to the situation, watching her boyfriend walk away before paying the bill and leaving quietly. Soon after, waiter's came to each outside table and told them Y/N sent her apologies for the commotion.

fan y/n :(((( was he the reason she couldn't go to Miami????

fan i'm gonna dox him ↳ fan i mean... i'm not gonna stop you

fan i have a knife.

fan i hope he's an ex boyfriend now wtf???

fan do you guys remember the pics of her and lando talking at padel and her bf was shooting DAGGERS at lando??? yeah somethings going on there ↳ fan we hate insecure men

fan lando i know u have money and connections i need this man to disappear

It wasn’t unusual for you to go radio silent after a race you weren’t able to attend, especially one on the other side of the world. Lando was used to a simple “congrats on P4!<3333” or wherever he had placed that time, and then you would be off to the land of dreams as he went about his day, shuffling between meetings and the media paddock. 

Today was different however. Lando had actually won. He’d won his first ever race and his best friend and roommate was virtually nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t help but feel a little angry at you, you knew how much P1 meant to him, the hours he had spent moping around the little apartment the two of you shared after a bad race and the rants he would go on when he placed P2 but was inches from that ever so elusive win, slipping just through his fingertips. 

He fired off one last text to you before sliding the phone back into the waistband of his fireproofs so he had his hands free to accept celebratory fist bumps and handshakes from every garage along the paddock. 

The lack of communication from you slowly slipped his mind after he had interview after interview, the kind and excited words of the journalists filling him with pride as they recall just how far ahead of Max he had been. Sure, his mood soured everytime someone mentioned that he got lucky with the safety car but his mother always told him that luck was something to utilise, not something to rely on. 

When he was finally free of the media’s hands, he checked his phone again. No messages from you which made him sigh, but one from Max. Opening their text thread, he’d dropped Lando a location pin for a well known bar in Miami along with the sentence “9pm, be there or be square, race winner”. 

–

To be quite honest, Lando doesn’t remember much of the party. Hell, he doesn’t even remember getting there, Zak having plied him with glass after glass of champagne during their debrief. He’s pretty sure Oscar had been the one to zip his fly up when they met outside their hotel rooms before the party, hands moving up to recentre his shirt so only a slightly scandalous amount of chest showed. 

Sitting on the private jet, again courtesy of Max, he thumbed through the last text thread between the two of you. You’d seemed fine, mentioning that you were going out for a meal with your boyfriend before the race started, and then… nothing. Complete and total radio silence. 

Maybe you were still with your boyfriend, too wrapped up in that jackass to notice the 17 messages Lando had left you since last night. 

God, he hated that guy. Ever since the day you had introduced him to Lando, he’d had a bad feeling. The guy was too touchy, arm wrapped securely and possessively around your waist like Lando was some kind of threat. 

And maybe he was. 

If he’d just manned up and told you the truth, that he’d loved you since the moment the two of you met one sunny day when he was still an F2 driver and you were the sister of one of his rivals, then maybe it would be his arm draped around you. 

Instead he had smiled, rolled over and showed his stomach like a runt at the bottom of the food chain, and watched from afar as the guy whisked you away under a mottled sunset. 

He felt a nudge at his side, eyes meeting Max’s curious ones. “Still no reply?”

He sighed, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone once again. “Maybe she’s busy…”

The excuse sounds weak even to his own ears, and when Max simply hums unbelievingly, he sighs again, mind torn in half at the elation of his win and the sadness of your ignoration. 

–

Sliding the key into the door, he listened ahead for any sign of life. The sound of dishes clinking in the sink, or your playlist of noughties hits that he always pretended to hate but would secretly sing along to when you weren’t looking. 

The silence that blankets him is unnerving. Too reminiscent of when he’d moved here alone and had all but begged you to join him, promising a rent free and easy going life. 

Checking the kitchen, he sees it’s exactly as he left it last week. The living room is barely lived in, the odd throw misplaced from the back of the sofa. His game room door is still shut, as is both his and your bedrooms. 

As he walks through to drop his suitcase off in his room, dreading the amount of washing that will fall out of it when he gets the energy to open, he hears a noise. From your bedroom, specifically. 

Checking his watch, he sees its 2 in the afternoon. Normally, you would be up and out by now, dragging Lando to whatever new fad you had seen on tiktok, or to the padel courts where he would inevitably lose to you. 

Leaning so his ear presses against the door, he can make out the shuffling of sheets. Maybe you had decided to do some laundry whilst you waited for him to get back. But then, the sound of sniffling joins. 

He freezes on the spot, ear still pressed haphazardly to the wooden door. The sniffles get louder and louder, soon joined behind an unmistakable sob. He can feel his heart drop to the floor, his stomach joining it on its tumultuous way down. 

You were crying. And he had no idea why. 

Pulling away from the door, his hand hovers the knob. Should he knock first? Should he just leave you to it? Normally, when you were sad, you would sneak into whichever room he was in, either reaching a hand out to lay against his back or sitting close enough so your thighs touch. He knew you needed to feel some part of him in order to ground yourself, and he always obliged. Oftentimes, the two of you would end up cuddled on the couch, some soppy chick flick on the tv as you gave into the warmth surrounding you, eyes closing as you rested your head against his shoulder. Despite how much it hurt to see you sad, he couldn’t deny these quiet moments were his favourite part of any day. 

Another sob breaks out, the sound so cruel and visceral, it was as if it had been yanked from your very soul. He forgoes knocking, hand twisting the knob harshly. He tries to push it open, only to be met by a force pushing back against him. 

You’d locked the door. 

In the 4 years of living together, neither of you had ever once locked your bedroom doors, knowing the other would knock before entering but still feeling comfortable enough to forgo privacy so the rooms could be open to the other whenever. 

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly, as one would approach an injured bird. 

The sobs become muffled, more shuffling of sheets before you call back to him, voice weak and torn along the edges. “Lando?”

He normally loved when you said his name, but the whine that accompanies it today leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He knows he should ask what’s wrong but he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s never not known why you’re sad, the two of you an open book shared between friends. 

He starts the only way he knows how. “Did you watch the race?”

More shuffling of sheets and when you respond, your voice is closer. “I’m sorry Lan, I didn’t get a chance to.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you. “How did you do?”

He wants to be angry. He really does. The one time you don't watch a race and he only goes and bloody wins it. “I won.”

“What?” Your voice wobbles, wondering if you were imagining what he had just said. 

“I won, Y/N. My first P1. 7 seconds ahead of Max.”

He waits for your response, probably some form of congratulations spoken through wood given your current mood. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to unlock and slam open the door, the both of you wincing as it bangs against the wall. “Say that again.”

He takes you in for a moment. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with violet, tears still making their way down flushed cheeks. You’re wrapped in your duvet, only your head visible as the duvet covers what is probably bedhead and your favourite set of pyjamas - flannel trousers and a t-shirt of Lando’s you had stolen at some point. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles warily at you. “I won.”

Throwing yourself at him, he takes a moment to steady the two of you, arms wrapping around the mass of duvets surrounding you. He can feel you crying again, tears soaking the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lan. I should have watched, I mean you won and I wasn’t even there to watch. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” You choke through the words, fingers digging roughly into Lando’s back. 

He winces at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin through the shirt, squeezing you even closer to him. “Don’t be sorry. Something obviously happened.” He uses the mound of duvet to pull you away, eyes flickering over your face. You look heartbroken in more ways than one. “What happened, sweet girl?”

Your lips quiver at the nickname, a hand poking through the duvet to reveal your phone. After 3 tries of using face ID, you huff, angrily putting in your passcode before turning the screen to Lando. 

He scans the screen. It’s an instagram post by some F1 gossip page. He recognised the user as one who often tried to paint him as some womaniser, taking any regular interaction with a woman as a sign he was sleeping with them. 

This post, however, is different. He sees you first, mouth in a tense line as you stare blankly at your boyfriend. Then he sees the caption. 

The anger returns, festering and dark, this time directed to your dickhead of a boyfriend. “What did he do?”

You sigh, locking the screen and pulling your hand back into the duvet cocoon. “I said I wanted to go home because your race was about to start. He got angry and accused me of being in love with you. I pointed out that I was literally on a date with him. He called me every name under the sun, told me we were over and then stormed off. I’m sorry, Lan, this isn’t good publicity for you.”

He scoffed, eyebrows raising skyward. “I dont give a fuck about the publicity, I care about you. How dare he speak to you like that?” He can tell the angers bleeding into his tone but he’s about 2 seconds away from finding out where that prick lives and beating him over the head with a padel racket. “Are you ok? Do you want to put on a chick flick? Order a takeaway? Go to a rage room and plaster his face across every breakable thing?” Moving closer, he rests his hand against your jaw, nudging it between your tear stained skin and the soft duvet. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

Sighing, you nuzzle against his hand. “None of that, Lan. I just want to cry and forget what happened last night.”

Swallowing his pride, he nods. “Do you want me to talk to him? I can tell him we’re not in love with each other. Just best friends.” The ending comes out a little bitterly, but he hopes you’re too distracted to notice. 

You smile up at him affectionately. The simple curve is enough to make his heart flutter from where it had picked itself off the floor and wormed its way back into his chest. 

Reaching up to lay your hand over his, lacing your fingers between his, you sandwich it between the warmth he so craved. “I just want to be with you. You make everything better.”

He reflects your smile, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. You wanted him, just him, and for now that was more than enough. 

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: pre-seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, roommate au warnings: spencer and reader are roommates !!! reader wears Miss Dior. a/n: so very sorry for not posting in so long! got busy with extracurriculars and uni started up again :( big thank you to @januaryembrs and @hotchfiles for reading through this first !! wc: 1.04k you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

Spencer officially joins the BAU late July once he completed his time at the FBI academy. It wasn’t necessarily fair for the other agents who hoped and prayed that they would be the lucky someone who would get to join the extremely elusive Behavioural Analysis Unit upon graduation, especially because he was the one who was chosen by name by the esteemed Jason Gideon. It also wasn’t necessarily fair to get home after four long egregious months of constant movement and firearm training to his roommate.

“You’re home!” 

He grimaces a little bit, dropping his heavy suitcases and bags at the doorway with a heavy sigh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’d bet! You’ve got more things than you left with!” You’re beaming, taking his new FBI registered duffle bag out of his hands and into the living room. “Your hair is so long now.”

“I feel like a wet dog,” he grumbles, pushing the strands out of his face. “Were you okay with rent? I’ll pay you back and everything–”

You laugh, shaking your head and pulling him to sit on the couch by the wrists. “It’s okay, Spence, relax. One of my friends needed a temporary place to stay, so I really only needed to pay a couple weeks of rent by myself. You’re probably starving, aren’t you? I’ve got pizza on the way.”

His cheeks burn at the contact, his throat going dry and his head almost as if it’s about to explode. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you repeat, beaming. Your fingers tug at the FBI windbreaker he’s sporting– big on his shoulders and long at the hips. “This is new. You went shopping without me?”

“Gideon insisted I get more FBI uniform,” he explains hurriedly, “he said it’d made me feel more ‘official��. They didn’t have any more in my size.”

“It’s cute! Give us a spin, Walter.” 

He does it half-begrudgingly, rising from the couch pillows and doing an awkward spin. He used to be used to it, before he went away for four months to train at the academy. He’ll need to get re-used to it, he supposes. 

“You look very official,” you say with genuinity, grinning ear to ear. “Got anything else?”

His nose scrunches in distaste as he sits back down. “There’s meant to be more?”

“The uniform isn’t just a jacket, is it?” You ask with furrowed brows. “The bag is a nice touch, though.”

“They said that I should get the polo, but I don’t think I’d ever wear it,” he explains, going through his things. They’d all need a good wash, he decides, throwing his clothes onto the floor. “There isn’t a uniform policy at the BAU, though. Just to be clean and tidy.”

“You’re already a pro at that, aren’t you, Walter?” 

His cheeks glow at your jest and he kicks at the pile of clothes at his feet. “You don’t think I’m weird, do you?”

“Weird for… being clean and tidy?” You blink, poking at his shoulder. “If that’s what weird is, then I hope there are a lot of other guys who are weird.”

“That’s an oxymoron.”

“Exactly.” He catches your smile as you speak. “It’s not a bad thing to be different. You know that, don’t you?”

“In theory,” he responds vaguely.

You huff, “You ought to remember it with that big brain of yours.”

“There’s no significant correlation between brain size and intelligence,” Spencer reminds you again, shrugging his jacket off. “You should remember that, too.”

*** 

It’s an incredibly cold November morning, just a couple of days after Halloween, and Spencer has been tearing up and down the apartment in search of his windbreaker. The team are set for Alaska this time around, and though his sweaters and wool socks provide some warmth, it was nothing compared to the inner pockets of his FBI assigned windbreaker that hold heat warmers. 

“Have you seen it?” He asks hurriedly, rushing through the living room. “I need to leave in three minutes or I’ll miss my train–”

“Seen what?” You ask, frowning as you fill his travel mug with hot coffee and sugar. “What are you looking for?”

“My jacket,” he explains halfheartedly. “You know the one.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, moving to the bathroom and pulling it off the hook. “Spencer?”

He visibly relaxes, taking it from your hands with a hint of embarrassment. “Oh.”

“You let me borrow it after you picked me up from the Halloween party, don’t you remember?” The corners of your lips quirk upwards in jest as his expression shifts into that of realisation. “I put it behind the door so that you could find it easier. Not that it helped, clearly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks pink in the light. “Thank you. See you later.”

“See you later,” you agree, and he’s already out the door, his jacket and travel mug in tow.

*** 

“Good morning,” JJ says, her bright blue eyes drowsy with sleep despite her greeting. “Are you guys ready to go?”

Spencer nods, zipping up the windbreaker and snapping the buttons together. Even in Virginia it’s still freezing. He doesn’t want to imagine how cold it’d be in Alaska. 

“Someone smells nice,” JJ chirps with a grin. “Is that– is that Miss Dior?”

“What?” Spencer sniffs, frowning. “Who?”

“The perfume?” She repeats the name, her brows flushed together. “I’m not crazy.”

“Is that Miss Dior?” Hotch asks in bemusement, sniffing the air. He looks at Jennifer with a mix of appreciation and a nod to say good taste. “Haley used to wear it all through college.”

“I’m not wearing it,” JJ insists, shaking her head with a laugh. “Spence?”

He’s barely paying attention to the conversation, frantically Googling an image of whatever the hell Miss Dior is. He’s met with the familiar rectangular bottle with pink liquid and a bow on the neck, something that he’s seen on your dresser multiple times. 

“My roommate,” he groans, covering his face with the palms of his hands. “She borrowed my jacket a couple days ago.”

“Ooh, a lady friend,” JJ snickers, “and she borrowed your jacket. How gentlemanly of you.”

Spencer sends you a long text message about the importance of not spraying perfume on clothes once he gets off the jet.

reblogs are always appreciated !!

you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[s-h-commatothetop-dynasty]

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[birdyshewrote]

“Birthday Girl”

Wolverine x Female!Reader

written by birdy

Wade Wilson throws you a rink-a-dink birthday party every year, and this year is no exception. But this time, you have a new guest.. and he’s been watching you for a while.

Notes- hi. ive never written a fic before EVER, so pls be nice. this is mainly for me to be able to get my thoughts out of my head because I’ve been thinking about this man for way too long. happy birthday bitches 🫶

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut- 18+ Logan Howlett x Female!Reader, Logan calls reader “Kid”, light smoking and alcohol consumption, Wade being a menace

——————————————————————————

You had caught glances of him a few times in the hall. The scent of smoke, leather and alcohol that belonged to only him drifted in the air behind him for a few seconds even after he had walked into the apartment room across from yours. There had been a few times where you stepped into the elevator and musky cigar smoke had filled the small space. You didn’t complain though, secretly savoring the intoxicating smell, taking more, quicker breaths than you needed too. You couldn’t deny the knot it put in your stomach and the weakness it put in your legs before stepping out of the elevator, down the hall and into your own room.

Eventually, you were tired of the mystery. Two weeks into the seemingly one sided tension, you trapped your long time friend and even longer time across-the-hall neighbor, Wade Wilson, into the elevator with you. Ever since the stranger had moved in with Wade, he had stopped inviting you over. Your birthday was coming up, and so was your annual not-so-surprised birthday party. Once the elevator doors closed, you started,

“Hey, who’s your new roomie?”

Wade scoffed, putting a hand across his heart on his chest, the other gripping a full black trash bag that smelt of blood and for some reason bubblegum scented air fresheners. “THATS how I am greeted nowadays? No, ‘Hello Wade’, ‘Looking good Wade’, ‘Here’s that five bucks I owe you Wade,’

You roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip stepping away from him. “Okay, first of all, I do not owe you five bucks. You OFFERED to pay for the funeral arrangements after you killed my fish-“

“He looked hungry, who knew fish could be over fed?” He interrupted.

“I told you before I left!” You argue back. “I was only gone two days and you-“ You rub your forehead and shake your head, frustrated. “Whatever. Not relevant. Hello Wade, you do look good.” You say, defeated.

Wade giggly adjusted his weight to his heels, to his tippy-toes, then back to his heels again “Thank you.” He said, satisfied, and turned back to the doors.

“You didn’t answer my question. Your roommate? Who is he?” You ask again as the elevator dings and the doors creakily open.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you sideways as the two of you walked down the small lobby. “Uhm, news flash doll face, Blind Al is not new. She’s an OG. Been here a while, silly.”

“Not Al.” Talking to Wade was like trying to a horse with dementia. “You know, ‘Mr Tall and Handsome,’ always sulking, ‘I don’t care about no smoking rules.”

Wade throws his head back, “Ooohhhh, you mean Peanut. What about him?”

“No introduction?” You ask confused, watching Wade as he carried his trash down the hall, holding the entrance door open for you.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess Iuh… I forgot.” He stuttered as he led you down the wet alleyway, towards the dumpsters.

“Last month you called me into your room to show me your new toothbrush. You have a new roommate and you just, ‘forget’ to introduce us?”

Wade shrugs, shifting the thin, plastic bag straps in his hand uncomfortably as he walked.

The truth was, Wade did not forget. The truth was, in fact, that one of the first things Wade had done was mention your existence to Logan before he was even fully settled in the apartment.

“I think you two would hit it off, hardcore. And I mean, HARD.” Wade had said.

“Absolutely not.” Logan grumbled, immediately shutting him down, not even looking up from the blow-up mattress he was unrolling in the living room.

Wade sat on the couch arm rest, looking down at the burly man. “Come on Wolvie, let a girl heal your cold, withered heart. You’re a tough, ‘don’t get too close’ typa guy, she’s an ‘I can fix him’ type of girl, I personally think it’s a perfect match.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m telling you to drop it.” He snapped, glaring up at Wade. “I don’t need you playing Cupid here, you hear me? I swear to God, if I hear you that you’ve even said my name to anyone I’ll get the fuck out of here and never look back. I don’t need to be getting mixed up in any of that shit right now.”

Maybe years ago Logan would have been a flirt, he wasn’t new to women or relationships, but he had been through too much. He had lost too much. He’d never admit it, but the truth was, the infamous Wolverine was scared. Scared of intimacy, scared of getting attached, scared of loss, scared of you. Still, this didn’t change the fact that he had been secretly watching you leave your apartment through the safety of the peephole of his own door. And yeah, maybe if you weren’t so loud coming out of your apartment he wouldn’t know your schedule within a week. Like what time you wake up to leave for work or school, or what time you come home. What days you take your trash out or do your laundry. And when he found one of your sweaters lying around the apartment when he first moved in, what should he have done with it? He was holding onto it for safe keeping. And yeah, he knew it was yours, but only because your sugary perfume clouded his nostrils and made his head feel fuzzy. It was so recognizable, he knew immediately the sweater was yours. Maybe if you wouldn’t drown yourself in the body mist he wouldn’t instinctively know when you were just in the hall, he told himself. It wasn’t his fault he had animalistic smelling.

He couldn’t, however, find an excuse for how he’d hesitate in front of his door, watching for the elevator to stop at your shared floor, wait for the doors to open and inhale the scent of your panties from down the hall once you saw him, then he’d unlock his door and rush in quickly. Sometimes if he was unlucky he’d steal a glance of your full body out of the corner of his eye.

None of this meant anything though. He could contain the animalistic urges he had towards you. Especially when he caught a glimpse of your thigh when you knelt to pick up a dropped grocery. He could handle himself when he heard your thick, sweet laugh through walls when watching a show or movie. But at the same time, what harm would it cause if he touched himself while inhaling the scent of your hair, sweat and perfume through your abandoned sweater late at night? And keeping it locked away in a locked dresser wasn’t creepy, it was just there until you asked Wade to look around for it.

He could handle himself from a distance. He knew this. He knew his limits.

He had been woken up from the couch after a long afternoon of drinking and despair by a loud “SURPRISE!” followed by laughter and clapping. He did not know there was a party going on, let alone a party for you. He was completely blindsided when you were standing within ten feet of him, in his living area, talking to Al and Wade and the others, laughing that sweet laugh

Shit..

Where could he escape? The front door was no longer an option, everyone was clustered in front. Maybe he could make a run for it through the bedroom and out the window? Or maybe take his chances down the escape ladder through the-

“Sleeping beauty has awaken!”

Shit.

Before you could blink, Wade was pulling you through the small cluster of friends to the couch, where a very confused, very hung over, very huge piece of man stood like a deer in headlights. This was your first time seeing him up close, and shit was he alluring. His hair was untamed and messy from his interrupted sleep, his thick brows furrowed. Frown lines prominent as his large muscles twitched under his shirt-

“Hey, his eyes are up there you horn dog.” Wade publicly snapped you back into reality. Immediately flustered, you began trying to save the situation that was doomed from the start.

“I wasn’t looking at- I wasn’t even doing anything, Wade!”

“It’s okay, I know you weren’t. He’s just a moron.” He put an understanding hand up as he spoke. Fuck his voice was so deep and low, almost a growl. It felt rich and threw shivers straight to the back of your throat and straight into the dark jeans you wore. You swallowed. Hard.

After an awkward greeting, Wade had basically pushed a drink into both of your hands and left you to fend for yourself. Logan took a seat on the couch, the worn furniture dipping under his weight. He was clearly uncomfortable. He kept his eyes low, rarely meeting yours. He threw his arm over the head of the couch, spreading his knees. He pulled out a cigar and gestured to it. You couldn’t tell if he was offering you one or asking if you’d mind if he smoked, you shook your head no to both. You politely sat next to him, pulling your legs under yourself next to him.

Unfortunately, this man was not the easiest to speak to.

“So, Logan. You’re new.” You fidget with the cup in your hands.

He lets out a low “Mhm” while taking a puff, then lets smoke pool out of his mouth and drizzle out of his nose, before speaking again. “Yeah. Don’t really know how I ended up here. Just, kind of did.”

You nod, looking around the room. 2016-2018 pop hits played on the pink Hello-Kitty speaker Wade had bought for himself, now sitting on the kitchen table next to the drinks. Various characters lounged around the apartment chatting and eating pizza and drinking.

“Seen you around, y’know.”

You turn to face him again.

“Oh?” You ask, sipping your drink.

He nods in return. “If you need help bringing groceries up to your room or somethin’, you can just let me know. Heard you drop a few things before.” His top lip twitches just the slightest in what you assume is his version of a smile. He puts the cigar back into his mouth and chews.

You furrow your brows at the sarcastic banter. “Oh yeah? Didn’t know I had a stalker.” You bite back, smiling while doing so.

“Not stalking you, kid. Just minding my own business and getting interrupted every two seconds by my noisy neighbor.”

After this, the two of you spoke more fluid. Relating in Wade’s schemes and circumstances became a common interest. You felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with the man’s presence. After your second drink, your leg rested against the rough denim of his thick thigh. He said nothing about it, so you continued to speak to him. You were unaware of what he was thinking or feeling.

He was freaking the fuck out. Especially when you asked him to go outside with him to get some air. He agreed, and the two of you slipped out of your own party. The night was dark as you walked through the city-lit pathway to the side of the building. Logan watches you and takes another puff of his cigar as you stretch in the open air. You sigh, relieved to be out of the stuffy room.

You could feel his eyes on you. The heat and heaviness of his lingering eyesight, watching your every move as if you were his prey. It made you nervous. It made you intrigued. You wanted to be in his sight, and he wanted to keep watching you.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much, shit’s awful for you you know.” You say, leaning on the brick building next to the tall, muscular figure.

He gives you a slow, sharp smirk in return, his canines showing through resting on the cigar.

Your heart begins to thump and he looks deep into your eyes, like he sees through you.

You let out a shaky exhale as your smile fades and take a step closer to him. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and looks down at you, shaking his head.

“You don’t want this, kid.”

You pause, trying to read his face in the dim lighting. “I do, and I think you do too.” You speak low and soft, like if you’re too sudden with your movements he’ll get startled and dash away. You slowly raise a hand and rest it on his hard, warm chest. You feel it rise and lower, he’s heaving now.

You bring your face up, closer to his. He doesn’t move, so you whisper into his own lips, “Logan, it’s okay.”

The light encouragement is what he needed. He looks down at your parted lips, pushes the lit cigar into the brick wall next to you, putting it out and dropping it, before muttering back,

“Well, you are the birthday girl.”

He leans down to give you what you’ve been asking him for, and what he’s been yearning for. He kisses you, slow and respectful at first, stepping in front of you. He puts his large, rough hand in between your head and the jagged building, protecting you as he pushes you against the wall. You bring a soft hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down farther into your space. He tastes like alcohol and smoke, and you couldn’t get enough. The kiss gets sloppier as you welcome his tongue into your mouth. You look at his face through squinted eyes, only to see his brows furrowed in deep concentration and self-discipline as to not overstep. You shut your eyes again as you grab his other hand, dragging it to your waist. He lets out a soft, low groan in response to the contact of your skin. Your waist feels so soft and warm is his heavy grip. He softly paws at your side, then up your loose shirt. He pauses underneath your bra, and you arch your back in response.

He breaks away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you momentarily before breaking. “This okay? You’re sure? I can touch you like this?” He’s almost pleading, even with all of the consent in your body. He looks down at you, eyes half lidded.

“Yes, Logan. Stop asking me.”

He nods, smiling slightly, and slowly shifts his long, thick fingers underneath the garment, and towards your chest. He brings his mouth to yours again, greedily taking and lapping at your mouth. The scent of your arousal intoxicates to him. You clench your legs together, to which Logan uses his thick, sturdy knee to break you open and apart. You feel exposed to him now, resting on his knee. The rough denim rubbing sends jolts to your throbbing core. The kissing is wet, his stubble rubs against your lips as he gently bites your tongue with his canines. His hand gently gropes your breast, while pushing his knee against your dampening soft area. He brings his calloused hand down back to your waist, slowly guiding your hips to rock against his knee. He uses his other hand against your head to gently grip your hair and push your head closer against his mouth.

Logan didn’t get you a birthday present, but he was definitely making up for it.

[katsu28]

operation mistletoe

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: all it takes is one meddling lando norris and some mistletoe at the mclaren holiday party for oscar and yourself to admit your true feelings for each other. (2.2k)

a/n: day two with osc! enjoy <3

“I don’t know why you won’t just tell him.” 

Lando is currently laying spread eagle on your kitchen floor, tossing a padel ball above his head while you shove a packet of popcorn into the microwave for your movie night. 

His question is out of the blue, but you know what he's talking about. Lando is wondering why you won’t tell a certain Aussie you both work with that you have feelings for him.

He’s been wondering for a while now, bordering on a year since you’d accidentally let it slip to him—almost half the time said Aussie has been part of McLaren. 

You scoff. “Have you sent it into the barriers too many times? That’s literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“But why?” He presses, sounding exasperated. You can’t see him around the island counter, but you can imagine that squinty eyed, scrunchy nosed look he always gets when he doesn’t understand something. You’ve seen it almost overwhelmingly often in the few years you’ve been friends. 

“First of all, we work together. If I tell Oscar that I like him and he doesn’t like me back, I’d never be able to show my face at MTC ever again,” You reason, searching for a bowl to put the popcorn in once it's done. 

It’s actually something you’ve put quite a bit of thought into when weighing the pros and cons of telling Oscar about your feelings. 

“I’d have to find a new job, but that might take forever, so I’d have to move back in with my parents until I find one—if I find one—and I’m pretty sure my mum turned my bedroom into a yoga space the moment I’d left for uni, so I’d have to move into the basement. And then the job I find might not even be around here, so I’d have to move back out of my parents’ place and find another place to live, and you know how expensive things are in some cities! I’d have to find roommates, and I don’t really fancy living with strangers somewhere I don’t know.” 

Lando has taken a seat at the counter when you turn back around with the bowl in your hands, staring at you with the most unimpressed look you’ve ever seen gracing his dumb face. 

“I reckon you’re overthinking things just a smidge,” He says flatly. He thinks you’re being dramatic. You’d call it brainstorming possible worst scenarios. 

You scowl, dumping the freshly popped kernels into said bowl before shoving it towards him. “You don’t know that.” 

He shovels a mouthful of it into his mouth on your way to the couch, sprawling out the length of it with his socked feet in your lap. “I’m pretty sure he fancies you too.” 

“Did he tell you that?” You raise a brow, swatting his feet off you. 

“Well, no, but I’m very perceptive.” 

“I saw you once say excuse me to a mannequin in a race suit at MTC because you weren’t paying attention to where you were going.” 

“Oi, fuck you!” Lando huffs, donkey kicking you lightly in the thigh. “You promised you’d never bring that up again. All I’m saying is that you should just man up and tell him flat out.” 

“I should what?” 

“Shit, I mean—well. Woman up? I guess?” He wonders, squinting one eye shut. “I dunno, really, but still. You never know how he’ll react. Could turn out mint.” 

“Can we not talk about it anymore? Please?” You groan, letting your head tip back against the cushions. “I just feel a little pathetic right now.” You feel Lando pat your head. 

“You’re not pathetic. Love just sucks,” He says sympathetically. “But sure, we don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

-------

True to his word, Lando doesn’t bring it up for weeks. In hindsight, you should’ve taken it as a sign of him planning something, but you’ve been busy with other things. 

Nothing happens until the McLaren holiday party, right after the FIA awards in Rwanda. Someone yells your name from afar as you’re going for a second drink, and when you turn to see who it is, you spot Lando waving wildly at you, gesturing for you to come over. 

Before you can even say anything when you approach, he grabs your hand, dragging you down the corridor. He walks and walks and walks, still not saying a word despite your constant badgering. 

Finally, he stops and takes you by the shoulders, maneuvering you a few steps to one side, forward a few steps. Then he nods once, backing up with his hands out in front of him. “Do me a favor, just wait right here for a second.” 

“What? Lando, what’re you—”

“No, no, no, this is important, I promise. Just stay there. Maybe close your eyes too if you could, that’d be mint.” 

Despite your confusion, you oblige, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear his footsteps retreat, but then nothing for a suspiciously long time. Had he just stuck you here and run off like an absolute wanker? 

A shoulder bumps yours before you can jump to any more conclusions, and it startles you. 

“What the hell is going on?” You question, frowning. Nothing but silence. “Lando? Are you there?” 

“Erm, nope. Not Lando.” 

Fuck. You know that voice. That voice makes your heart do a stupid tap dance against your rib cage every time you hear it.

Your eyes fly open to meet an extremely familiar pair of brown ones. Oscar’s eyes. Oscar is standing right in front of you, looking just as confused as you feel. 

“Oscar!” You exclaim, feeling your face flame hot. 

You can’t help the surprise seeping into your voice. To see him there isn’t something you were expecting at all, and it certainly doesn’t help that he looks extremely handsome, almost glowing with happiness fresh off the end of a successful season for the team. The blue suit he has on clings to him in just the right ways, and his cheeks have a pink flush to them.

“Hi,” He says awkwardly. You aren’t quite certain what to do at the moment, or what even is happening right now. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

“I don’t, actually. Lando just told me to stay here and that he’d be right back,” You admit.

Oscar lets out a noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat. “Yeah, same, he told me it was something important. I’m not sure where he went, though.” 

He brings up a good point. Where had Lando gone?

Your phone buzzes in your hand at that moment, Lando’s name flashing across the screen when you glance at it. “Hang on, he’s just texted me,” You inform Oscar, angling your phone towards him as if whatever the message says will explain everything. 

Lando: Look up. 

Both of you look up at the same time, and what you see makes your heart drop into your ass. 

A sprig of mistletoe dangles from a haphazardly tied piece of string attached to the beam above. 

That fucker. You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to kill Lando Norris. 

“Is that—that’s not mistletoe, is it?” Oscar squints up at the tiny plant, tilting his head. 

“It is,” You sigh, fighting the urge to go find Lando and strangle him with your bare hands. “I want you to know I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was all your idiot teammate.” 

Oscar laughs a little bit, shoulders shaking. “No, I know it’s all him. He thinks he’s hilarious.” 

“He sure does.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told him he’s not,” He replies. Then he shifts on his feet, reaching up to run a nervous hand through his hair. “You look really nice, by the way. Been meaning to tell you that all night, but there’s so many people here I couldn’t find you. Until now, it seems.” 

All night. Oscar has been looking for you all night, just to tell you that you look nice. He’s making it really hard not to fall for him a little bit more. 

“Thank you, Oscar. You clean up well too.” 

He looks down at himself, rocking back and forth on his heels a little. “You think so? I didn’t know if the two shades of blue were too much.” 

“No, they look great. Really.” 

A sudden silence blankets the two of you, and you hate it. You wish you were better at holding conversation, but with Oscar, all your thoughts seem to go right out the window. 

“We should go—” 

“D’you want to—” 

“Sorry, sorry, you first,” You insist, pressing your lips together. 

“Sure, yeah. I was just, uh, asking if you’d maybe want to…y’know.” He glances up at the mistletoe, then back to you, and if you aren’t mistaken, he looks a little hopeful. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I’m not—I wouldn’t force you or anything. I just…yeah, we could, if that’s something you’d be into.” 

“Oh!” You blink at him owlishly, completely caught off guard by his suggestion. Oscar wants to kiss you. Is this real life, or has Lando just played the ultimate cruelest prank on you?

“Tradition-wise, and all. I heard you’re cursed with bad luck for years if you break it,” He adds hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Definitely wouldn’t want that.” 

“Definitely not,” He echoes, bobbing his head. What comes out of his mouth next is entirely out of the blue. “Did you know the word mistletoe comes from two Anglo Saxon words? Mistel, which means dung, and tan, which basically means branch.” 

“No, I did not know that! That’s…very interesting,” You say enthusiastically, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell the laugh threatening to spill out. If it were anyone else, you’d think it was quite weird, but Oscar’s word vomit is strangely endearing. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It’s disgusting, and you didn’t ask. Erm, wow, I’m—” 

“Oscar.” 

“Yeah?” He squeaks, pale cheeks rosy with embarrassment. 

You push forward instead of saying anything else, pressing your lips against his briefly. It’s a split second kiss, but it’s all you can manage without feeling like you’re doing something monumentally stupid. Still, it’s enough to send a zip of something thrilling through your veins. 

When you pull back, Oscar’s eyes are wide, and immediately you think you’ve made a mistake. You open your mouth to blurt an excuse, an apology, anything, but he speaks before you can.

“Will you go out with me?” You falter at the sudden question, totally caught off guard, and it seems to make him panic. “Oh. Oh no. Did I get this completely wrong?” 

“No! No, you didn’t,” You say quickly, reaching out to take his hand. His shoulders slump in relief, fingers already tightening around yours. “I’d love to go out with you, Osc.” 

“Thank god, or this would’ve been really awkward,” He sighs. “Looks like Lando did something right today.” 

“For the first time in his life, probably.” 

“In all fairness, I don’t think I would’ve had the balls to ask you out otherwise,” Oscar admits sheepishly. You hum your agreement. It turns out Lando being a nosy meddler of a friend has its benefits sometimes. “Think we should thank him or something?” 

“Definitely not. His ego would get way too big.” 

Lando looks entirely too smug when the two of you return to the party, eyes immediately zeroing in on your joined hands. “I take it the mistletoe went over well?” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You shrug casually, glancing over at Oscar to see him do the same. 

“Alright, fine. Be like that. You’re welcome, by the way. I expect a mad good Christmas present from both of you this year, I hope you know that.”

Oscar blinks. “But I already got you a set of tea towels.” 

“Ugh, spoiler!” Lando huffs, shoulders slumping. “Also, what are we—fifty? I mean, tea towels! Really, Osc?” 

“You said yours were ugly!” 

You make an offended noise from the back of your throat, furrowing your eyebrows. “I got you those towels for secret santa two years ago, you asshole.” 

“You did? Jesus, you two really are meant for each other,” Lando snorts, shaking his head. 

Oscar just grins over at you, giving a little tilt of his head as if to say great minds think alike. 

“By the way, we’ve got to get onstage soon, so if you’d stop making goo goo eyes at each other so we could get a move on, that’d be great.” 

“Oh. Alright.” Oscar’s smile fades as his gaze flicks back to you, seemingly displeased that he has to leave you so soon. “D’you mind if I…” 

“Go on, bring out the trophy. I’ll be right here,” You assure him, stepping in to drop a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Once they’re onstage little while later, Oscar’s already found you in the crowd, and as they lift the impressive trophy high in the air, he’s only looking at you, beaming so unbelievably bright it might just rival the sun. You smile right back at him, the pride you have both for this team and the two boys onstage just barely contained. 

This night marks the start of new beginnings, both for McLaren and for your relationship with a certain Aussie. And just like the 2025 season, you’re excited to see what next year will hold. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

[aquadios]

JAKE & THE COLLEGE SCENERY : pair sim jaeyun x fem genre college fluff minor angst friend of a friend to lovers warning suggestive ish also not proofread !! wc est. 09k-1k

COLLEGE!JAKE who you met when you chased after the morning bus, your roommate kept snoozing your alarm until you only had five minutes left to get ready, get breakfast and catch the bus—which ultimately left you.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry,” you fell with a big oof, dropping all of your books. however, your gaze wasn’t on the boy you just slammed into the concrete, instead it was on the bus that became smaller and smaller.

COLLEGE!JAKE who simply smiles at you while picking up your books for you. all you could do was mumble sorry after sorry when seeing his bleeding knuckles—he had tried breaking your fall when you ran into him but landed on his knuckles.

“no worries, happens all the time.” you both stand up and you finally get a better view. the boy adorns a bright smile and chocolate brown hair. he’s wearing the universities jacket—you’ve never seen someone look so good in school merch.

COLLEGE!JAKE who you run into yet again during your free period when one of your friend’s calls you over to their table. as you speak to jongseong about the lesson in marketing 101, jake can’t help but smirk at your nervous demeanor.

“this is jake by the way, he’s single.” jongseong wiggles his brows while patting jake’s shoulders. “yeah, i almost broke his hand this morning,” you let out a low chuckle. “sorry again, i was actually gonna look for you to give you this.” it’s a handkerchief you maid back in middle school.

COLLEGE!JAKE who stares at the handkerchief with your initials until his eyes physically burn. he isn’t sure why you had such an impact on his soul; every thought that crossed his mind was about you.

COLLEGE!JAKE who can’t help but search for you at a party after jongseong said you’d be there. he ignores the people at the ping pong table calling his name and the girl’s sitting on the couch calling him over. he’s here for one thing, and it’s you.

COLLEGE!JAKE who finds his feet moving at a faster pace when he sees you hanging around the pool with your group of friends. your laugh echo’s through the crisp air and he thinks it might be his new favorite sound.

“are you sure your friends won’t miss you?” you question when you notice everyone trying to catch his attention. jake shakes his head while he continues to drag you to an empty room with a bottle of wine in his hand. “nah, and even if they did, i’d rather be here with you.” he closes the door behind him, facing you with a look of sincerity. “i don’t think i’ve been able to stop thinking about you since we ran into each other.” jake intertwines you hands with his.

COLLEGE!JAKE who isn’t afraid of showing his feelings. as you both lay in whoever’s bed staring at one another with the tipsiness of the alcohol running through you, you notice his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“i’m surprised jongseong has never mentioned you before,” you lean your head on your shoulder. “likewise.” jake moves a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his thumb roam your warm skin. “if he hadn’t introduced me to you sooner, i think this night would end differently.” “and why’s that?” you inquire when jake begins to lean in. “because i wouldn’t be confident enough to kiss you.” his lips crash down onto yours—enough to knock you onto your back with his lips desperately wanting more.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who waits outside each of your classes to scare you. his hands encircle your waist as he kisses up your neck towards your cheek. his day gets a million times better simply being in your presence.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who begs you to stay in bed longer even after you’ve gone through every single one of your alarms.

“i can’t miss today, i have a presentation jake.” although relishing in his touch, you try to make an escape. keyword: try. “just let jay do it, he’ll find a way to get you a good grade.” jake hides his head deeper into your neck while wrapping all of his limbs around you. his lips leave wet kisses all over your skin knowing you’d give in.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who doesn’t hide his jealousy very well. he knows you’re loyal but who’s he to say that his girlfriend isn’t attractive? jake sulks all day until you baby him, or he’ll be extremely quiet. this day happened to be the latter.

“why are you so quiet?” you frown while turning to look at jake. you were over at sunghoon’s for a movie night, like every other night, just this time sunghoon had invited a friend who was known for having a crush on you. jake shakes his head. “you know you’re always gonna be the one for me.” you whisper in your boyfriend’s ear before turning back to the movie. jake smiles into your hair, and in return, he slides his hands up your shirt drawing circles.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who says things in the heat of the moment but regrets it later on when he’s missing you late at night. you’re on the couch and he’s in the bed hugging your pillow, but your scent washed away days ago. he hates that he drove you to sleep angry, he hates the things he said, and most importantly he hates the lump in his throat.

“baby,” he trails a hand from your sleeping face to your arms. he crawls under the small throw blanket you found in your closet. “i’m sorry,” he frowns deeply and finally lets his tears fall. he curls up against your back, soaking your shirt with his sorrowful tears. you awake to his sniffles and you whip around—worried almost. “i don’t wanna be mad at each other anymore.” that night he seemed to sleep better than any other.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who dances with you in the kitchen late at night to cheer you up after a bad grade or just a bad day. he loves the way you try to hide your giggles at his terrible attempt at tango.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who finds more enjoyment in laying in your bed with a bowl of popcorn and another one of your rom-coms than getting drunk and ending up in someone’s bed.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who gives you annoying nicknames whenever you’re mad at him.

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who won’t give the time of day to any other girl.

“hey, i was wondering if i could get your number?” jake glances around before pointing to himself with a look of confusion, and when she nods, he holds up his phone with the picture of you. “i have a wife and a kid, thanks, but no thanks.” “dude, what kid?” heeseung shoves him while watching embarrassment fill the girl. “my dog!”

BOYFRIEND!JAKE who doesn’t see anyone else but you. for you, his past doesn’t exist because you weren’t in the picture, he started living when you became someone in his life.

“i don’t think i’ll ever love someone the way i love you.” jake runs his hands through your hair while you both gaze at the stars. “i’m glad i ran into that day.”

you are all he’s ever known.

© aquadios | collection

playlist : let me love you by mario, intentions by starfall, moonstruck by 엔하이픈, safety net by ariana grande