#the way this moment drove everyone insane

[srnileforme]

hommesthailand's instagram reel update with skynani ⤷ #BvlgariTubogasxSkyNani 🖤🤍

[obaex]

(not) my girl - rafe cameron

summary: if rafe cameron is so sure he doesn't need to be seen with you at midsummers, you are more than happy to oblige (or) the time you drove rafe insane with jealousy.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: inspired by this post by the sweet @writingsbychlo ♡

You were curled up on Rafe’s lap, head resting on his shoulder with his arms circled around you and his fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on your thigh as he talked with his friends around the firepit in his backyard.

You had been hooking up for a few months and recently you felt like you were right on the cusp of him asking you to make things official, exclusive. You were spending nearly every night together and every time he asked to talk or wanted to hang out you got your hopes up that this would be the time he brought it up, only to be crushed over and over again.

Deep down, you knew how Rafe felt. People who were ‘just hooking up’ didn’t beg you to stay every morning, didn’t make room in their dresser for you, didn’t wake you up with featherlight kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, face breaking into a ridiculous smile when your eyes fluttered open to find his drinking you in, they didn’t call you during a panic attack after fighting with their dad, pleading to hear your voice as the only thing that would calm them down. No, you were pretty sure you knew exactly how this boy felt, but you wanted him to acknowledge it. You ached to hear him say with pride ‘that’s my girl’, to mark you as his own.

Your eyes flitted across the fire to your best friend Olivia who wiggled her eyebrows at the sight of you and Rafe together, all too aware of the situationship you were in and how badly you wanted him. You blushed and rolled your eyes back at her, just trying to enjoy this small moment where he showed his affection for you in front of other people. She winked at you before interrupting the conversation.

“Sooo, who is everyone taking to Midsummers?”

You shot her a look that screamed what the hell are you doing!? You were still holding out hope that Rafe was going to ask you, even though it was less than a week away. Maybe he had an elaborate, last-minute surprise planned?

“Feel pretty good about my date” Kelce murmured, pressing a kiss to Olivia’s cheek as she giggled. “What about you Top, still intent on macking on Rafe’s sister?” he asked. Topper threw an empty beer can at him as everyone laughed.

“I don’t know why we even bother with dates” Rafe said. “We’re just gonna dick around together all night anyway, there’s no point.” He took a swig of his beer without meeting your gaze. You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment and a painful ache in your throat as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spring forward. You met Olivia’s gaze again and she nodded encouragingly towards Rafe.

“W-what about me, Cameron?” you asked, trying to mask your feelings, to sound chill as you poked him in the side.

He looked at you sweetly, “C’mon and say what when my dad asks about you? ‘Hey dad, here’s the girl I’ve been sneaking through the back door every night and smashing while you and Rose are three doors down? Hard pass.” He laughed, focusing back on his beer and his friends as you felt his hand slide off your leg.

You allowed yourself to be genuinely upset for three days.

You didn’t sleep at Tanneyhill for the first time in months, you didn’t even answer his texts which grew increasingly more insistent the more you ignored them. You stayed home, you cried, and you contemplated what the fuck you were doing with your life. Was that really all you were to him – just someone he was sneaking around with? Did you somehow become that girl, too naïve and too stupid to see that she wasn’t and would never be anything more than a hookup?

You thought about the way Rafe reached for you and held you in his sleep, the way his hands ghosted over your body, the things he’d whisper in your ear, the times you’d ridden shotgun in his truck or he’d taken you to his favorite spot on the beach… Your heart was so sure about him, but your head throbbed with the echo of his words.

You and Olivia talked incessantly about it, dissecting everything he’d said. “Maybe he just needs a little push, a little… motivation?” she suggested, and the more you talked about it, the more you realized she was right.

If Rafe Cameron was so sure he didn’t need to be seen with you at Midsummers, you were more than happy to oblige.

The last of the hot summer sun was settling over the ocean as you climbed the front steps of the Island Club in daring three-inch heels; the added height gave your figure a perfect sway that simply begged people to watch you as you walked by. Your dress had a thigh-high slit, open back, and was the perfect color for your skin tone, illuminating you; the neckline was devilishly tantalizing, giving the desired effect of drawing all eyes to the dazzling diamond pendant that reflected the setting sun.

Rafe heard you before he saw you; rather, he heard a sea of murmurs rippling through the crowd which drew his attention to the doors just as you walked through by yourself, essentially announcing to the island that you were alone for the night.

“Geezus” he heard Topper mutter under his breath as he took you in. Normally, he would have known better and normally Rafe would have put his head through a wall for glaring at you the way he was, but even though his fists clenched in response and he wanted to turn and say something to him, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you; “Geezus” didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were always undeniably beautiful to Rafe: when you wore his oversized sweatshirt around the fire pit, when you were makeup-less in your wet bikini at the beach, and especially when you were wearing next to nothing tangled up in his limbs and his soft sheets, but the dress you had on, the way your hair shone in the last rays of the sun, the way you were positively radiating had his pulse throbbing in his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing and his palms sweating. Fuck, I am so happy she’s mine he thought to himself, smiling and moving to walk towards you as your eyes met his across the crowd.

You were glowing at him and sent him a discreet smile as you greeted people and made your way in his direction. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to have you at his side so everyone knew you were his. You approached your friends, dropping a kiss on Topper and Kelce’s cheeks before doing the same to Rafe. You made to move past him quickly, intent on talking to Olivia when he grabbed your hand.

“Hey, hold up you-you look…” he started to say, trying and struggling to find the words to capture the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

Your wide eyes met his expectantly and just when he opened his mouth to speak, they flitted over his shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry, Rafey! Just saw someone I want to catch up with, I’ll see you later” and without another word you walked away, leaving Rafe Cameron, the King of Kildare staring and stuttering after you.

You were walking away from him? he thought. You had seemed so adamant about this whole Midsummers thing, dropping hints about going together and now here he was, practically ready to get down on one knee at the sight of you, and you were walking away from him? He was speechless. He turned to watch you go… right into the arms of another man. He looked to be about your age, the same height and a similar build as Rafe, because of course Rafe was sizing him up, how could he not? This guy had his paws all over his girl. And then, after a moment’s realization, he thought darkly, she’s not your girl…

You had greeted this guy with a huge hug, and he’d nearly lifted you off the ground, now he had your full attention and you were laughing at something he said, the most sweet and perfect sound that Rafe wanted only for himself.

As everyone took their seat for dinner, you intentionally positioned yourself across the table from Rafe. The slight of not sitting next to him where he could run his fingers up your thigh or tangle them in your own left him fidgeting instead, buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket and swirling his drink. What the fuck did I used to do with my hands? he thought angrily.

You paid him no mind, instead, leaning forward on your elbows and toying with the diamond pendant around your neck, fingering it, twirling it and sliding it back and forth on its chain.

“Holy DIAMOND, girl!” Olivia said as she took note of your necklace and leaned over to get a closer look. “Is it new, where is it from?” her eyes shot from you to Rafe and back again.

He glared at you both over the rim of his glass as he took a deep gulp, trying to act unphased but also extremely curious to hear your answer knowing damn well it wasn’t from him.

Your eyes flitted to Rafe briefly before you leaned towards Olivia, lowering your voice, but not so low that he couldn’t hear you. “It was… a gift from… someone special” you said winking conspiratorially at her.

Rafe choked on his drink just as someone was standing up at the front of the crowd to make a speech, shifting everyone’s attention and interrupting the slew of words that nearly poured out of his mouth.

Who the fuck on Kildare fucking Island was buying his girl jewelry? he thought. And then, again, he reminded himself, she’s not your girl… the thought making his whole body tense, rigid and taught in anger and frustration.

For the next 20 minutes, all he could do was stare at you as you twiddled that ridiculous necklace in your fingers, imagining what it would be like to rip it off of you and replace it with something twice as nice. He was mentally calculating how much he would spend and how quickly he could get it when JJ Maybank passed by their table. Rafe had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue until he watched JJ do a double take at you and stop in his tracks.

Don’t do it, Maybank, Rafe thought. Don’t you dare do it.

He watched JJ eye you and the distance between you and Rafe and, deeming it safe, peddled back, pulling a glass of champagne off his tray and handing it to you with a flourish. He knelt down next to your seat and when you turned to talk to him, it left JJ perfectly eye level with your cleavage. He was whispering something to you and you rested your hand on his bicep as you leaned forward to hear him. Rafe could see you blushing, and he watched Maybank take in every greedy eyeful of you. Rafe stood up so abruptly, it knocked his chair over and rattled the plates on the table. Everyone looked up at him, including you, and for the first time that night he had your full attention as your eyes widened at his reaction.

“YN, inside, let’s go” he said simply, walking to your side of the table.

You raised an eyebrow at him and his demanding tone.

“And Maybank if you don’t stop staring at her tits, I will put your face through this table.”

JJ quickly stood up and backed away with his hands raised in surrender as Rafe approached you.

“Rafe we were just—” you started.

“— Inside. Now” he said, taking you forcefully by the arm and leading you inside and into the locker room.

“Rafe! Come on! Stop it! I want to spend the night with my friends, I don’t know what you possibly have to be mad at” you said in resistance.

And that was the very last straw for him.

“WHAT I HAVE TO BE MAD AT?!” he said, incredulous, nearly shouting. “Where do I even begin with you!? You blow me off all week, then you waltz in here looking like an absolute bombshell, wearing next to nothing – I swear to God, I’ve seen you in bikinis with more material - every guy here is leering at you. Then you’re talking to that jackass who had his hands all over you…” he said, exasperated.

At this point he was pacing, his voice continuing to rise in anger and frustration. “…And then Maybank?! Maybank of all people?! He was flirting with you right in front of me. Was it to make me jealous? Is that what this is all about? Because I’m about to lose my fucking mind YN” he said running his hands through his hair, giving you sick pleasure knowing it took him probably an hour to style it. A surprised if not amused look rested on your face as you continued to twirl your necklace in your fingers.

“And who the fuck gave you that” he pointed accusingly at the diamond in your hand, not giving you a single second to respond, “No. Absolutely not. Take it off. Right now” he said, walking briskly towards you in an effort to do it himself.

You held out a hand to stop him.

“I don’t know what the big deal is Rafe” you said innocently. “What difference does it make? I’m just the girl you’re sneaking through your back door every night to smash” you shrugged, your eyes burning at him.

His eyes widened as he heard his own words on your lips.

“No, that’s – that’s not – I didn’t mean” he stuttered.

You gave him a vicious look as you watched the gears turn in his head and he tried to string a sentence together.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that – I shouldn’t have – what I meant was – ahh, fuck it” he said, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you in an instant, one hand holding your face firmly as he pushed you against the lockers and the other coming to rest on the wall beside you, caging you in against him as he pressed his lips bruisingly to yours, devouring you, just like he’d wanted to do all night.

You wanted to stay strong, to argue, to tell him he wasn’t going to win you over like this. But he was. He so so was as he deepened the kiss almost instantly and the pad of his thumb ran across your cheek sending a shiver through your body. When he finally felt you relent and kiss him back, winding your arms around his neck and pulling yourself flush to him he let out a small groan that almost made you forget the whole point of tonight. Almost.

You pulled back, leaving not even an inch between you. The feeling of you kissing him had calmed him down significantly. His breathing had slowed but his cheeks were still flushed and his hair was mussed. He lingered there, his nose brushing yours as he stroked your cheek.

“You’re my girl” he whispered finally.

“Are you asking or telling?” you whispered back.

“Do I really need to ask, princess?” he said, meeting your gaze with his own.

You raised an eyebrow at him threateningly.

He rolled his eyes and said in a sigh, “Be mine?”

You bit your bottom lip and pretended to think about it. “Gosh, I don’t know” you said, pressing a slow kiss to his lips “M’might have to think about it” you said, pressing another kiss there, lingering longer “Mm’might need some convincing” you said, kissing him again and running your hands up his chest.

His voice was low but steady, “I will take you home right now and convince you as many times as you need me to” he said, kissing you back through a smile.

“Deal” you replied sweetly.

You moved to leave but he didn’t let you go and when you met his gaze, his brow was furrowed, his eyes searching yours. “I am serious though, about this, about you” he said. “I’m sorry I fucked up.” He looked uncharacteristically bashful, unsure even. “Really, are you mine?” he whispered.

“Yes, Rafe,” you said as your heart fluttered in your chest “All yours.”

He smiled stupidly, so far gone for you as he kissed you again. You were completely lost in the moment until he muttered against you, “Then please for the love of God will you take that necklace off and tell me who in the hell thought they could buy you something like that?”

You met his eyes strongly, the last embers of your pain crackling there.

“No” you said simply, continuing quickly when he tried to interrupt you. “I’m going to keep it and wear it whenever I damn well please to remind you of what you have and what you sure as hell want don’t want to lose.”

He looked genuinely shocked to hear you challenge him like that and you could see a tic in his jaw as he worked it back and forth in anger.

“I… hate that” he growled. “What if I buy you something nicer?”

You shrugged noncommittally and he shook his head at you. “Fine, let’s get out of here, that dress is killing me and I have a lot of convincing I want to do to you right now.” You giggled as he grabbed your hand and led you back outside, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

When you rejoined the party there were a few murmurs and glances as you hung off his arm. Were you imagining it, or was he taking the long way back to your table, intentionally parading you around the patio and staring daggers at anyone whose gaze lingered too long? Being seen together at Midsummers was basically shouting from the rooftops that you were official. You were glowing, he was too. You said goodbye to your friends and within minutes you were in his truck headed back to Tanneyhill, his hand rubbing circles higher and higher on your thigh, your fingers in his hair.

He threw the car in park and scooped you over his shoulder, carrying you all the way upstairs like that, which had you shrieking in delight. He didn’t set you down until you were in his room and he kissed you feverishly, his hands cupping your face, before his fingers traced your neck, nearing your necklace.

“Rafe” you muttered against his lips, a warning.

“Just tell me who” he muttered back, unable to let it go and kissing you deeper in the hopes of convincing you. “I’m already gonna to buy you a new one, you’ll never wear this again, but I need to know. Can’t stop thinking about someone else with their hands on you” he said as he guided you backwards towards his bed, pushing you gently onto his comforter and crawling on top of you.

“I don’t like it. I do not fucking like it” he growled against your lips. Under his anger, you detected a hint of vulnerability and you broke your kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, which gazed longingly at you as they searched your face. Perhaps you had tortured this poor boy enough.

You sighed, relenting.

“Olivia” you said.

He looked at you, completely confused for only a moment before the realization dawned on his face and he hung his head.

“There isn’t anyone else” he said in equal parts relief, frustration and embarrassment.

You shook your head at him.

“God I’m so fucking stupid” he said.

You giggled before reaching behind your neck to unclasp the necklace and toss it on his bedside table.

He looked at you with heat and tenderness, “I’m sorry that’s what it took for me to get my shit together. I wish it all happened differently, but I don’t regret it. You’re it for me, YN, no one else.”

He placed a kiss beneath your ear, to your throat, to your bare collarbone. “My girl” he whispered against your skin, enjoying how it felt on his tongue and the sound of your sweet laughter in response.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4, part two

lando norrisxfem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

part one

a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.

wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)

he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something. 

things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–

each other. 

and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake. 

it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely. 

but not for him. 

he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it. 

but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts. 

the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough. 

you did this to yourself. 

but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl. 

his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late. 

“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him. 

‘you’re too sweet,’ 

too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.

his favorite girl. his girl. 

“she’s here.” 

what? 

lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you. 

“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story. 

you looked…

happy. 

he…

he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you. 

lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend. 

barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon. 

gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways. 

you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up. 

rebecca stared at you expectedly. 

“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?” 

rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.” 

him? him? oh, fuck, here we go. 

as much as you wanted  to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing. 

you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile. 

but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed. 

he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael. 

“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”

“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?” 

he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend. 

the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you. 

did you expect him to? 

you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe. 

as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out. 

“uh oh.” 

the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle. 

you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would. 

lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty. 

but he didn’t stop to look at you. 

you didn’t either. 

but your hands–

god your hands

they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. 

if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open. 

you dared him to.

but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret. 

fuck him.

you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t. 

“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking. 

“nothing.” 

and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage. 

it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.

you had thought about it. you really did. 

but you couldn’t. 

you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you. 

you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room. 

lando

you hesitated. 

suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath. 

“what?” 

your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue. 

“neither did i.” 

that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”

you were confused by the question. “yes.” 

“can i see you?” 

his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

you could practically feel him wince through the phone. 

“please.”

fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing. 

“okay.”

lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?” 

“610.”

he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night. 

your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–

there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts. 

you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take. 

he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver. 

he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time. 

lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him. 

“did you run here?”

lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you. 

you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep. 

you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt. 

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.

“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.” 

“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances. 

“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same. 

lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.” 

lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he? 

he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth. 

“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him. 

your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder. 

he wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.” 

you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“you have to.” 

lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem. 

he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated. 

you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs. 

little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true. 

you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one. 

when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.

you thought he was going to kiss you. 

but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own. 

your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too. 

in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.

she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles. 

you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.

you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing. 

it couldn’t be for nothing. 

when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview. 

“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.” 

she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?” 

you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you. 

“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael. 

you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her. 

raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck. 

fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble. 

you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him. 

it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you? 

or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get. 

the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.

he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life. 

you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it. 

“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away. 

but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.

“fine.” 

that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness. 

but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot. 

you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.

finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare. 

lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back. 

lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you. 

but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns. 

“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers? 

you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this. 

it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place. 

the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough. 

and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–

you hated it. 

you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…

raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable. 

and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando. 

he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated. 

you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes. 

you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs. 

after another minute of this, you were fed up. 

you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking. 

you deserved an oscar. 

“didn’t think i was that good.” 

an egot, maybe. 

you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you. 

your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going. 

and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue. 

he thought you came. 

fuck!

“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing. 

he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure. 

he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there. 

the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face. 

with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.” 

he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”

you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack. 

your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.

you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long. 

when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone. 

no messages from lando. 

did you expect any?

maybe. 

you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking. 

ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

no answer. 

you left a voicemail.

“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.” 

and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen. 

but with your whimsy, came a price.

lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. 

then the voicemail came.

he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you. 

especially an ‘i miss you.’ 

and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you. 

he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.

with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.

your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you. 

a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears. 

‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls. 

you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.” 

your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.

and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you. 

he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul. 

you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength. 

the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all. 

clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words. 

‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate? 

you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear. 

but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did. 

when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified. 

littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water. 

your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear. 

a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you. 

you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.

though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers. 

he slipped through your fingers. 

you shut the door. 

lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him. 

but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.

all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.

in love

he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love? 

anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit. 

he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall. 

it rang twice before he heard the line connect. 

“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?” 

“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach. 

“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning. 

“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him. 

 but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?” 

“you called me.” 

shit. 

if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it. 

“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…” 

your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks. 

“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it? 

“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing. 

“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?” 

there was a pause. 

“yeah. yeah. something dumb.” 

there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.

“i’ll see you there?” 

you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it. 

“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.” 

you smiled. he could feel it. 

“okay. bye, then.” 

he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming. 

it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face. 

just a bright smile. 

your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug. 

you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow. 

“so…!?” 

you narrowed your eyes. 

“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.” 

you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways. 

“awful.” 

she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.” 

“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything. 

“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?” 

him. the inevitable. 

you swallowed. 

and nodded your head.

alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day. 

before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.

ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare. 

lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.

he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

lando did too. 

but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker. 

you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.

your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away. 

it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face. 

you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers. 

but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.

you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless. 

and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart. 

it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had. 

lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers. 

“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood. 

little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten. 

“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.

“fine.” 

he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here. 

you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.

you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string. 

and you didn’t even go to his podium.

he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife. 

but he fears he lost you. 

the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display. 

did you come? 

no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–

she didn’t. you couldn’t. 

the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most. 

it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory. 

the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch. 

but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat. 

you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie. 

alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached. 

no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers. 

it didn’t take you long.

but you wish that it did. 

he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco. 

another one of his girls. 

your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl? 

your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave. 

neither did you. 

the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his. 

lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another. 

fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play. 

you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand. 

“dance with me?” 

raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness. 

but the thought left just as quickly as it came. 

your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted. 

not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face. 

his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck. 

you were just one of his girls. 

this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest. 

you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress. 

a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room. 

your lips puckered. 

lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down. 

lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room. 

you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand. 

raphael took the bait. 

his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now. 

your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan. 

lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth? 

the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree. 

his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy. 

the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–

except you would. 

this was war, wasn’t it? 

watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;

him, fucking you.

or, him leaving. 

you much preferred the latter. 

with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you. 

raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one. 

“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again. 

“i’m serious. i want–” 

“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.

you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms. 

raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?” 

lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”

raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”

“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another. 

he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest. 

his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant. 

“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand. 

“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”

his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.” 

you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?” 

his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin. 

“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”

“you let him kiss you.” 

you froze. 

“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face. 

“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?” 

you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh. 

“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.” 

you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill. 

“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.” 

“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics. 

“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours. 

“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks. 

“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair. 

“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–” 

with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it? 

“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”

you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him. 

“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”

your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice. 

a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you. 

his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk. 

“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.” 

he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much. 

your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.

you knew what he wanted. 

you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.

“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality. 

lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle. 

“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly. 

“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection. 

your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise. 

“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat. 

“what was that?” 

you whimpered. “missed you!”

“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give. 

“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.” 

your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven. 

you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would. 

the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night. 

the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared. 

“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed. 

“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might. 

“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers. 

you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!” 

his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure. 

it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else. 

lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion. 

“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”

you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more. 

“you’re the only girl.” 

you turned fully this time to face him. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words. 

“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”

lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly. 

“what do you want, then?” 

your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed. 

“i need you.” 

need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you. 

his face upturned into a smile. 

“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline. 

“lando…”

he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.” 

your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you. 

and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him. 

his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure. 

you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit. 

there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up. 

“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough. 

“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.

“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time. 

your brows upturned. “i love you too.” 

his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?” 

you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded. 

he was happy enough with that answer. 

“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you. 

“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.” 

taglist

@sofs16 @strengthandstay @mybluesoul1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[yaut-jaknowit]

Story idea: pregnant human gets to the point where she just says fuck it and walks around their home in the nude because it's the only way she can be comfortable. Her yautja mate sees this as an absolute win.

Eyes Never Wander

Character: Wolf (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content

Word Count: 2208

Summary: In your homes with Wolf, you are currently pregnant. One thing you've come to learn about Yautja Prime: it's fucking hot and humid. No matter where you lived before could never prepare you for the humidity in the air or the heat that pelted you. With your pregnancy, it has only made that feeling worse. Your clothes would stick to you like a second skin. What's a way to fix that? Go naked around the house. Wolf doesn't mind one bit.

Author Note: Absolute win on both sides. And if you do this while not pregnant. You're about to become pregnant.

Masterlist

Ao3

Out of all the places for you to end up in, this isn’t where you had hoped. The average temperature was a few degrees too high for you to comfortably handle everyday. The humidity was killer as well. It drove you insane when nothing could get dry in a reasonable time. Plus, these aliens have never heard of a dryer. So, any closes you’ve worn take days to dry outside. Even then, they never feel completely dry.

Said clothes would stick to your skin and drive you insane with the over sensitivity of your skin. Everything grew too much for you to handle. In a place you weren’t used to; in home you hadn’t grown up in; with a man you loved so much. He’s the only reason you’ve stayed here, enduring such a harsh environment that wasn’t meant for such a soft human.

Let alone, one so pregnant.

One look at your closet had you closing the door with a slam. “Fuck that,” you murmured and stomped out of the bedroom. Your swollen belly made it evident to everyone what your condition was. No male dared to say a word to you. Yautja or not, do not mess with a pregnant creature. They’ll do everything in their power to protect themselves and their unborn children.

Your male Yautja lover hovers nearby when you go out to the vendors. Wolf will not let you out of his sight around so many people. Though, it was against their code to injure or harm a pregnant creature, he does not trust everyone. You are only human after all. Heavily pregnant and waddling around.

A sight you know he heavily enjoys. His eyes find you whenever you are around. He watches the evidence of his potent seed taking place in your ravish body. You know he likes observing you. He’s never felt this way before with another.

The sound of your fast foot steps catches the male Yautja’s attention. His head peered over the edge of the couch. His gaze immediately finding you marching through the house towards the kitchen. You feel his gaze, piercing through your skin. Nothing to hide the shape of your form moving through the dwelling he’s built.

In the kitchen, you snatched up a fruit that was similar to a dragon fruit mixed with a banana. Strange to look at but it was delicious to consume. When you were about to turn around, large hands gripped at your waist and tugged you flush with a warm, humid body. Despite hating the heat and humidity at the moment, you sighed and relaxed against Wolf’s body. His presences calms you in an instant.

Wolf leaned over your figure and let his tresses create a curtain around the two of you. “What a sight to see, love,” he purred and gripped your hips tighter. “What has caused this? Do you need help with the laundry?” You are stubborn and independent, even in your heavily pregnant state, and want to do everything yourself. Only asking for help when you are in a pinch.

Both of your arms wrapped around the back of his neck and tugged him down a little further. “No. No offence but I fucking hate this area. It’s hot, humid. My clothes won’t dry in less than a day. My clothes stick to my skin uncomfortably. I decided to say ‘fuck it’ and go without. I know you won’t complain.” You find a thin strain of his tress underneath the rest of them and toyed with it, mindlessly.

And boy, were you right.

To have his pregnant mate walking around their shared home, naked. He growled low in his throat and rubbed his jaw against the top of your head. His scent further rubbed into your skin. Though you were pregnant with his child, he loved to continuous mark you up, scenting for everyone to steer clear of you.

Wolf let his hands drift up your sides, skating his claws over your ribs then back down to palm at your thighs. “To see my mate, naked like the day they were born, pregnant because of my doing, walking around in our home… it’s a life I could only dream of.” His claws carefully grazed the tops of your thighs as he touched whatever part he wanted of you.

Then, his hands wandered back north and palmed at your swollen belly. The Yautja was large, towering over your form. His hands slid down a little more to the lip of your stomach and gently lifted up. Instant relief flooded you. You sighed heavily and rest as much as you could against him. Your mate held you there, letting the weight be his burden for the moment.

“This needs to be an everyday thing, Wolf,” you mumbled, voice going hoarse from the lack of power you gave it. Said Yautja chuckled. The vibrations running up your back and spreading out to the tips of your fingers.

“Yeah?” he teased, arms not faulting. “I can’t help it if my seed produces such large offspring.” You elbowed him in the side. He takes the hit without even making a sound.

“Yeah, this is all your fault. Mate can’t keep it down.” Wolf growled, arms flexing without moving your belly. The weight still in his hands.

“I didn’t hear you complaining each time I took you,” he rumbled back to you and lowered his mouth next to your ear. A purr starts in his chest and creates goosebumps. They run across your skin and cover your limbs.

You turned your head enough to send the Yautja a glare and a huff in tandem. Wolf’s purr deepened and helped you relax again, softening against his thick scales. The tress you were playing with, you decided to tug on it. Wolf tensed up, purr stuttering for a moment. “You may never hear a complaint from me in those moments, but you’ve heard me plenty of times now.”

With all the medical care you have access to at your mate’s status, you still can’t get rid of the aches and pains. Sweet, old Wolf does his best to draw baths, massage your aches, and feed you delicious foods. Only those could so far while dealing with a situation such as this.

Slowly, he lets your weight return to you. You whimpered but put your hands on top of his. Your fingers carded between his in a reassuring grasp. The texture of the scales on the back of his hands is stark to your own skin. You mindlessly run your thumbs up and down the sides of his palms.

“That may be true, but I’m beyond thankful for allowing for this opportunity to continue.” He knows if the pregnancy was too far of a risk, even above ten precent of serious injuries or death, he wouldn’t let you talk him into it. A healer had been brought in with the help of a scientist. They were able to give the facts to Wolf about this very situation before it happened. It helped calm his older heart, reassured your chances of passing were low.

Same with the strain it would put on your smaller frame. It took months upon months trying to convince him that this was safe, you would be fine in the end.

Not that he didn’t want to have a child with you. That’s one of the things he wanted most in his life. To see his permanent mate pregnant. The thought of losing you greatly outweighed that want though. It was simply brushed to the back and forgotten about.

Finally, he had broken about eight months ago and took out the implant he had requested you used. For both of your safeties. Weirdly enough, it was instantaneous that you had wound of pregnant that same night. It was as if your body knew it was the perfect time for this to happen.

Now, look at you. The happiest you’ve ever been with your mate, on the verge of starting a family.

Your eyes softly shut as you leaned towards his face and nuzzle against the softer, wrinkly scales on his cheek. “And I thank you for this. I know you are scared. I won’t deny that I’m not either.” You took a deep breath and opened your eyes to find him already watching you closely. “Considering this is hybrid baby. And the father is a towering alien that could pop my skull open like a grape.” Of course, he never would.

His purring deepened again. An upper mandible slowly reached out and caressed my cheek. “I won’t lie to you, little one. I am scared. Still scared. You are the most precious thing to ever walk into my life all those years ago.” He squeezes your fingers in a firm yet gentle grip. “To have this opportunity to create life with you is amazing.”

The two of you stayed like that, just enjoying the moment. The warmth of the other person. It was a beautiful, soft moment. Two lovers basking in their love for the other.

Until the ache in your ankles grew too much. As you took a breath in to speak up, Wolf was easily scooping you up and carrying you over to the couch. The lean Yautja sets you down on the cushiony couch.

Wolf goes over to where the dragon fruit-banana had been dropped and picks it up. His eyes roam over the piece of fruit and walks back over to the kitchen. A whine comes from you as he takes away your snack. Your bottom lip pushing out into a pout.

Said fruit is tossed into the trash can next to the counter. You gasped, ready to argue about throwing away a good piece of food. Then, he grabs another, fresh one and grabs some pink colored grapes. Wolf brings them to you spot on the couch and kneels down in front of you. The bowl of grapes is set off to the side. The banana-like fruit is held in front of you.

The moment you tried to grab it, he pulls it away and starts to peel it. Your hands drop back into your lap as you looked at him with a confused look in your eyes. It was easily peeled. Wolf offers it to you again. You attempted to take it from him but he pulls away enough for you to get the idea. You snorted with a small smile. Then, you leaned forward and take a bite from it.

For a fruit, it had a hint of spiciness to it. Strangely enough, you’ve grown a liking, a need for spicy stuff during your pregnancy. These types of fruit have made your life ten times easier to deal with this stupid craving all of sudden. Well, until your stomach decides it doesn’t like it for a week. That’s been fun to deal with.

He fed it to you until it was gone. The peel was set off to the side on a small side table. Next, was the bowl of grapes he knows you enjoy. Wolf holds them to you in an offering, allowing you the chance to take or deny the gift.

The lovesick smile on your face tells him everything he needs to know. Wolf sets the bowl down in your lap and plucks a grape up. Just like before, he holds it close to your mouth.

Gingerly, you leaned forward and took the piece from his pointer finger and thumb. Once biting past the thin skin of the fruit, it’s flavors burst across your tongue. You groaned and licked at your lips.

This continued until the bowl was empty and you were happy and well fed until lunch. Said bowl was set off to the side. Wolf shuffles closer to you and scoots his way between your legs. Before he touches you though, he looks into your eyes. No words were needed. Not after all this time with each other. You gave him a simple nod.

Wolf timidly rests the side of his head against your belly. His bright eyes were hidden. All his focus was narrowed down on the life growing inside of his wonderful mate.

Something underneath your skin nudged against his cheek. Wolf reared back, head snapping to face you. The expression he held was the most you’ve ever seen him make before. You laughed, head tilted back and savored the image for the rest of your life.

“I-I felt them kick,” he sputtered, astonished at the findings. You placed a hand on your belly and ran a thumb over the stretched skin.

“Yes, you do. They probably recognized that their father was close by. Isn’t that right?” you cooed towards your stomach. Another powerful kick had you wincing. “Alright, alright, thank you for letting me know you’re there.” For some reason, they always got kick shy when Wolf came to feel. This was his first time feeling it.

He placed his throat over the mound of your stomach and started to purr. The kicking instantly stopped. Shit, that works?! It worked on you too. You leaned back against the couch and looked down at him.

For someone who his species consider old, you would’ve never picked another male. Never.

[tzyunaes]

DESPERATE   ⋄   이희승

wherein — you share a heated moment with your roommate.

희승 ˖ 𝑓em!r g. roommates to potential lovers fluff suggestive ──── EPHEMER𝒾S ( 613 ) cw. skinship making out kissing.

jennifer says .. heavily suggestive cause i went a bit overbroad w this my apologies !! TT

11:38 pm. the clock ticked in its conventional rhythm. you sighed, getting tired of tossing and turning in your bed. you were supposed to get a full night's sleep tonight after the exhausting week of finals but here you were, your head messy with crazy thoughts. finally deciding to get out of your bedroom, you get up from the bed, the silence curls through the room along with the dim tranquil darkness, your footsteps soft on the cold tiles of the floor.

as you walked past the hallway and stood in front of the refrigerator in the kitchen, opening the door as you looked for a drink. the limp sound of someone breathing behind you in the eerie silence caught your mind, you could feel your heart skipping a beat.

you were definitely quick to look behind, just to find your annoying and forever ridiculously irresistible roommate that you were supposed to hate for being the exact opposite nature of you in various ways in front of you, your eyes rolled back into your head on its own but you sighed in relief anyway, “are you insane? why the hell are you standing behind me like a ghost!?” your voice loud till the signature smirk was back on his face, “why? did my pretty princess get scared?” he whispered, taking another step close to you, you stepped back, “what scared. i just meant why can you not act like a civilized person and c—"

your words hung in the crisp air when he stepped closer, causing you to stumble a bit but his muscular built hovered over you, he leaned down to your ear, “should i try a ghostface mask next time?” his husky voice barely a whisper, you stuttered, a rosy hue lightened your cheeks.

mixed scent of whiskey and strawberries drove you frenzy, he smirked, almost caging you against the fridge. your breath hitched when his hand sneaked past your shirt and found your waist, heeseung dipped his head, his face inches away from yours as his other hand reached out to brush a few strands of your hair off your face, “may i?” he murmured under his breath, his eyes deep into you as his hand rubbed circles on your bare skin.

you couldn't respond, you weren't supposed to be doing this here with the lee heeseung of everyone, you thought to yourself. but the heat seem to be going on your head, “i will take the silence as a yes, doll,” he mumbled in your ears before engulfing your lips with his, his mouth hot in yours when you kissed him back.

his hands tracing your skin intoxicated you completely, going lower when you didn't stop him and responded instead. every graze of his fingers sent sparks of electricity through your body, awakening your senses. he chuckled into the kiss when a soft moan against his lips left from your mouth, his body almost mushed yours.

he sucked your lips like it was the last day of his life, his tongue savoring yours. his touch growing more desperate and illicit but you didn't stop him cause you craved it instead. he pulled himself off, just to let you see the sweaty face of him which did nothing but made him more attractive right at the moment. his smirk grew more sinister, the faint dim light against your intertwined bodies.

“hee…” you murmured, your breath shaking. he leaned in again as his voice hitched, “yes, darling? be a good girl for me tonight, hm?” was the last thing you heard before you let him claim you as his deliberately.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.

contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.

author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll

"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."

your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."

on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.

after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.

and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.

the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.

"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"

you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.

your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."

you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head. 

you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still. 

satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.

"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"

you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"

every time. every single time.

"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."

"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."

"fuck you."

if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?

you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy? 

you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.

right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?

you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either. 

just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.

some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.

so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."

"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline. 

"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."

"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"

the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.

"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"

you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.

whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.

"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.

"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"

"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."

"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"

you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."

"yeah, well, you showed up."

"you coulda slammed the door in my face."

"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"

"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.

"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.

"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.

you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"

"waiting."

"for what?"

"for you to beg."

your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.

"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."

satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."

again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."

"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up. 

"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."

you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?" 

you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.

at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.

when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you. 

satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."

you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.

"yeah, same time tomorrow?"

"anythin' for you."

[mrsbarnesblog]

just a friend

masterlist

requests are open

summary: your best friend gets jealous when he sees you talking to some random guy at his party

words count: 3k

warnings: +18❗️smut, swearing, p in v sex, protected sex, friends to lovers, possessive but softie Rafe, dirty talk, pet names

You were standing near the kitchen island, far away from everybody else, sipping on your drink and observing Rafe. The loud music busted through the speakers, there were too many unknown faces and for the hundredth time wished you had stayed at home. 

Rafe was sitting on the couch in the middle of the room with Kelse, Topper, a few other guys, and, most importantly, some random girl. She was way too touchy for your liking and it honestly seemed like she was ready to get into his pants in front of everyone. 

Rafe didn't pay much attention, though, even while she was rubbing his pants-covered thigh and saying something in his ear. No, Rafe was too interested in the conversation with his friend, but it didn't stop that nasty and overwhelming feeling of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

You and Rafe have been friends for almost three years, but it didn't seem like it. While you had neved crossed the invisible line, unknowningly for each other you both admitted to yourself that whatever was going on in between you two was not a regular friendship. Friends shouldn't sleep in each other's beds. Friends shouldn’t spend that much time together alone. Friends shouldn't be jealous every single time someone talks to their friend. And friends shouldn't be in love. 

Yet, here you were. 

You were staring at this scene for at least fifteen minutes and it drove you fucking insane. Especially the fact that Rafe had never let any man even talk to you, not to mention be all up in your face. It was so unfair that he had double standards for you and that he probably didn't even realize your feelings for him. 

Rafe was just too overprotective and possessive and you had to admit the ugly truth to yourself that it wasn't because he was in love with you. 

You finished your drink, wincing at the taste of alcohol, and straightened, looking across the room full of people. There were too many guys; you spotted the one that looked kind of attractive and moved in his direction. You were done with Rafe’s bullshit. If he could have girls all over himself, so could you. 

“Hey.” You tapped on the guy’s shoulder to grab his attention. He became flirty way too quickly, stepping closer to you and giving his best smirk, yet your eyes were still drifting back to Rafe. 

You saw the exact moment when your best friend noticed your current company. You and Ed were chatting for no more than five minutes, and while he was talking about it being his plans for the night, you saw Rafe getting up from the couch with a frown on his face. He quickly crossed the room, not bothering to check on the girl who was trying to get his attention over the loud music, or say even say something to his friends. 

“What are you doing here?” His brows furrowed even more, his eyes going up and down the guy near you. 

“I’m talking, Rafe. Go back to your company.” You rolled your eyes, looking back at Ed. “So what were you saying? Your frie—” 

“You’re coming with me, Y/N.” Before you could even say anything, you were dragged away to the second floor, where no one could bother you. “What the fuck was that, huh? I told you like a million fucking times to not talk to the guys at these damn parties; they're goin’ to hurt you.” Rafe freed your hand, pacing in front of you and running his own hand through his hair. He was visibly annoyed and pissed, and with the way he was acting, you wanted to push his buttons even more.

"You are my friend, Rafe, and you have no fucking right to tell me who I can and cannot speak to or go out with!" You shouted back, not even in the slightest fear of the flames in his eyes, when his head snapped back towards you. 

"Whether you like it or not, Y/N, I am not going to let any fuckers with bad intentions get near you."  

"Apparently, they are the only ones who are interested in me. You seem to be always busy with all the girls who are ready to climb you.” You laughed even though it hurt you to say it out loud. “I'm sick of your double standards, Rafe. You think I want to look at you with some random girls? You think it’s okay to scare guys away from me and then casually let everyone be all over you?” 

“What the fuck does that mean? You know I am not dating anyone. They can do whatever they want because I have no plans with any of them." He rolled his eyes, already irritated that he was actually fighting with you for the first time. But there was no going back and you both felt it. The constant tension and secret feelings were overflowing and they had to find a way out. “You’re acting like a child, swear to god, babe.”

“Because you're giving me mixed signals and confusing me!” You stepped closer, pointing a finger at his chest. 

“You know the reason why I do this.” Rafe grabbed your wrist, slightly pulling you closer. Your eyes locked on each other, and your faces were so close that you could smell liquor his his breath. You felt the way your stomach dropped when Rafe’s eyes quickly felt to your lips, yet you were still filled with anger. 

"No, I don't! You’re giving me hope on something, you’re being affectionate with me, we’re spending all our time together, but then you just step back as if it was nothing! Just stop playing with my feelings and tell the fucking tr—-“ Before you could even finish your sentence, your body got pushed back and pressed in between the wall and Rafe’s body. His grip on your face was firm yet gentle enough to not hurt you when he brought you closer to him and finally kissed you.

You both moaned into the kiss as if you were surprised and content that it had finally happened. Rafe’s lips moved quickly, easily dominating over you, as he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for permission to slip in. 

“I’m just a friend, huh? You’re driving me fucking insane. You’re mine, don’t you understand it?” He mumbled against your mouth, sliding one hand down your body and at the same time pushing his legs in between your thighs. He just simply wanted to pin you against the wall, but the way his thigh pressed into your pulsing core made you both hiss. “Do you really think I would let anyone kiss you? Touch you? I’m selfish, Y/N, and I don’t like to share anything or anyone.” You felt as if you were high or drunk with the way your body reacted to Rafe’s touches, trying to concentrate on his words but actually only wishing his lips to get back on yours. 

“You let them touch you. That girl was all over you today, and you did nothing to prevent it.” You breathed into his lips, feeling a lazy smirk stretching across his own. Rafe leaned in again, pressing a few quick, wet kisses to your mouth and wrapping one hand harder around your body.

“She was fucking annoying and I tried to get her off of me. I don’t need any of them. My eyes have always been on you. I swear.” Rafe’s hands tugged on your dress, sliding it higher to have more access to your body. “Holy shit, Y/N. I don't know how I was able to be friends with you for so long. I want you so bad.” 

You moaned, your head falling back against the wall, when Rafe’s lips slid down the side of your neck, leaving soft bites and reddish marks. Your own hands reached under his t-shirt, touching his firm abs and scratching his tanned skin until he moaned into your mouth. 

“I was scared to make a move. To scare you away. But you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I cannot pretend to be only your friend." His hands were sliding up and down your thighs, bringing you closer and not pulling his face away from your neck. Your scent has always driven him insane and he couldn’t have enough of you. “Do you feel it? Do you feel how hard you make me, Y/N?” His hands tugged your hips closer, until his bulge was firmly pressing into your leg.  

“Rafe…” You whined, your hips moving on his thigh, which was still pressed in between your legs. The feeling of your underwear getting wetter by the second made you wonder if Rafe could feel it through his pants. “Y-you know that everyone thinks that we’re sleeping together, right?”

“I think we shouldn’t disappoint them, hm?” You felt a smile spreading across his lips and you giggled back at him. Your hands are now tagging the annoying piece of fabric that hid his body from you, not even caring about people that might go to the second floor of Cameron’s house and catch you.

You managed to drag the t-shirt off of Rafe, your mouth instantly getting watery with the image in front of you. Sure, you saw Rafe shirtless countless times at the beach, but knowing that you could shamelessly do whatever you wanted made your whole body tingle. 

“Fuck that.” Before you even knew it, Rafe’s hands easily lifted you up, making your legs automatically wrap around his body. His lips met yours again, and he started blindly moving towards his bedroom. 

Your body bounced on the way-too-soft and way-too-expensive mattress of his king-size bed as he threw you there and went to lock the door. Rafe followed you shortly after, too desperate to keep touching you. His hands slid up your bare thighs, going past the strings of your panties, pushing your dress until it was gathered around your waist. 

“Can I take it off?” He looked at you, his eyes surprisingly soft and completely different from what you'd expected. You just simply nodded, lifting your hands in the air, until the only real item of clothing was taken off you and thrown somewhere in the room. 

Rafe’s eyes took every inch of your exposed skin, his hands gently sliding down your sides. You were only dressed in a simple black set, but for Rafe, it was the sexiest thing in the world. 

He wanted you for so long. Just looking from afar, he was trying to restrict himself from getting closer to you because he had always thought that you deserved someone better. But at the same time, who could treat you better than him? Only Rafe knew everything that you liked and needed, and he was willing to give it to you. 

“You’re so pretty, for fuck’s sake. I’ll be careful with you.” Rafe's body covered yours, his soft lips kissing your neck and going all the way down to your belly, making you gasp. You buried your hands in his hair, moving it away from his face. “I’ll take care of you. I promise I won’t fuck this up.” He looked up at you with his baby blues, and your whole body got covered in goosebumps from the look in his eyes. 

“Please, Rafe.” You whispered, taking his face into your hands and dragging him back on top of you. You two could not stop moaning as your hands began to explore each other's bodies and your lips met once more in a passionate kiss. “I want you.”

“Baby… Can’t even imagine what you’re doing to me.” He groaned against your mouth. The position that you were currently in, with Rafe comfortably in between your slightly spread legs, made his pants-covered erection perfectly press into your dump panties. “Need to be inside of you or else you’ll make me cum in my pants.” 

It became a mess of tugging on each other's clothes while trying to have as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. When you were both naked, Rafe slowed down, holding your face with one firm hand. “Is it really what you want to do? ‘Cause I won’t go back to pretending to be friends anymore.”  

“Just fuck me already, Cameron.” You whispered, not breaking intense eye contact. 

“As you wish, sweetheart.” With these words, Rafe pulled back to reach the nightstand and take a condon. He carelessly threw it near your exposed body and took a few seconds to finally admire your naked form. 

You were basically inviting him to do whatever he wanted with your slightly spread legs, which let him see how wet you already were. That pleading look on your face didn’t help the situation either, making Rafe want to fuck you dumb until his name was the only thing on your mind. 

He looked you up and down a few times before leaning forward, pressing your legs closer to your chest. Rafe’s calloused hands reached to your sensitive breasts, touching nipples with his thumbs, until your eyes rolled back into your head. 

“Are you ready for me, or do you want me to eat you out first, hm?” His soft breath on the side of your neck sent shievers down your body. As much as you wanted to feel his lips on you, it felt like you could not think straight without his dick stretching you out, so you helplessly shook your head. 

“Next time, please. I need you now.” 

He gave you a sly smile and, in a single motion, ripped off the foil, rolled a condom over his throbbing cock, and placed himself at your entrance. You squirmed at the feeling of his tip going up and down your wet slit, gathering your juices and stimulating your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, so you’re soakin’ my sheets, baby.” He smirked, looking down at your pussy and teasing you more, until a moan of his name escaped from your mouth. “Keep your legs here, okay? ‘N I’ll take care of you.” 

When you felt Rafe's cock slide into you, your eyes flattered before closing completely. It was big. It was bigger than you had ever had before, but it seemed like your body quickly adjusted to him as soon as he bottomed out. With one hand near your head to hold himself up and the other one on your leg, he slowly started moving in and out. 

“Rafe!” You squeaked, digging your nails into your thighs and trying to control yourself.

“Sh-h, ‘s okay. Knew this pussy was made for me, babe.” He moaned through gritted teeth, gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts. Soon, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with muffled moans and Rafe’s praises. His bed was making a noise with every movement, and if you hadn't been too lost in the pleasure, you would’ve thought about other people hearing you. Rafe could not take his gaze away from your face—the way you tried to control yourself but soon lost it when his cock touched that sensitive spot inside of you. Your glossy eyes, hot skin and puffy lips made him go feral, fucking you harder into the matress of his bed.

“That’s right, scream my name. Made ya go dumb for my cock, huh?” He watched in awe at the way you were going insane under him; your release was visibly getting closer with every thrust. You moan even louder, feeling a tight knot form in your lower stomach, and the feeling gradually increased when the base of his cock brushed over your clit. “Squeezin’ me so tight. My good girl... fuck, baby. That’s right, cum for me. I’ve got you.” 

Rafe grabbed both of your hands, showing you to put them around his neck. It made your legs fall from the previous position and you weakly put them around his waist. Rafe finally lowered his face closer to you, catching your lips in a wet and sloppy kiss, still pounding into you roughly and steadily. 

“I-I can’t, Rafe, please!”

You particularly breathe the same air, moan into each other’s mouths, hooded eyes locked on when the orgasm washes over you almost simultaneously. Without even realizing it, you dragged your nails down Rafe’s sweaty back, leaving red marks that he will proudly show off tomorrow. His hips slowly pushed into you while you were still pulsating around his cock, enjoying your own release. Just the feeling of your pussy milking him could’ve made him cum again. 

“Rafe…” You whisper, your eyes now closed and your head feeling all fuzzy and warm. Rafe slowly slipped out of you, walking away to throw out a condom. You whined at the empty feeling and the coldness that the lack of his touch had brought. 

“‘M right here, baby. You did amazing.” As he came back on top of you, now wearing boxers, he placed kisses on the heated skin of your neck, his hand sliding down your side to soothe the aching muscles of your legs. “My pretty girl... Gosh, now I’m not letting you go. Like ever.” 

You giggle, draping your arms over his shoulders and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “So all I had to do was talk to some random guy for you to get all angry and kiss me?” 

“Don’t remind me of that. I just realised that I might actually lose you.” Rafe whispered the last part, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist until there was no space left between your naked bodies. 

“You won’t lose me, I promise.” You hugged him back, enjoying the comfortable silence that fell into the room, until you both fell asleep in each other's arms. 

[ellieputellas]

prove you wrong | alexia putellas x reader

You carelessly tell everyone you've never been sexually satisfied to piss off your fuck buddy, Alexia. She decides to prove you wrong and make it known to everyone just how wrong you are. | Inspired by these requests: (1) (2)

tags / contains: wc: 5k, friends with benefits, jealous!alexia, rough sex, strap r!receiving, fingering r!receiving, breath play, a lot of dirty talk, usage of degrading language and names, a bit of orgasm control, dacryphilia if u squint, set when lucy was in barça, semi-public sex kinda

masterlist | please do not repost or plagiarize.

It's been months since you last saw Alexia.

She’s been extremely busy with football, brand deals, and events. As her friend, it made you incredibly proud to see her achieving so much. She’s worked so hard and it was about time that she was able to reap her benefits and gain the recognition she so badly deserved.

But as her fuck buddy, the feral, needy side of you was just writhing with sexual frustration and yearning, wanting her to fuck you after every time you’d watch a game of hers.

You tried touching yourself, trying every new vibrator and toy available in the market but not a single toy could replicate the way Alexia made you feel. The way she moved her tongue, her fingers, her hips – it always drove you insane. Every single time with Alexia left you in a dreamy state for days. The sore muscles from all the positions she put you in always left you aching for days, but you loved every bit of it—each ache serving as a lingering reminder of that night.

On different occasions, you wanted to just text her and beg her to come over and fuck the living daylights out of you but it just felt like you might be crossing the line. You two usually just fucked whenever you had free time to spend together; asking her to make time from her busy schedule just felt personal and… intimate. So, instead, you’d sulk at home and try every single possible way of fiddling with yourself to no avail.

Feeling desperate and horny, you made the mistake of making out with Alexia’s friend and teammate Lucy Bronze. You bumped into her during a night out with friends wherein she recognized you as Alexia’s friend from college. A couple drinks down and one thing led to another.

Even if Lucy was an excellent kisser, you didn’t feel the same electric connection with Lucy that you had with Alexia. Though, since then, you’ve maintained close contact with the Brit.

Despite several attempts of hitting on you, you never really responded to any of Lucy’s booty calls. You knew Alexia and you were just friends with benefits but somehow, you felt like it was wrong to do anything more with a friend of hers. It wasn’t as if you two were exclusive… but you still felt hesitant.

Although, after a while, you grew more and more frustrated with Alexia. How was it possible that Lucy had enough free time to hit you up but Alexia seemed too busy to even send you a naughty pic or even just a cheeky message? You felt neglected and increasingly sexually frustrated.

Little did you know that word had gotten to Alexia that you made out with Lucy.

Ever since the two of you started hooking up, Alexia had grown increasingly infatuated with you, craving the feel of your skin and the taste of your lips at every waking moment. If she could, she'd have you beneath her every day of the week. But as life got busier for both of you, she held back, reasoning that it would be selfish to hit you up randomly in the middle of a busy week just to scratch an itch. Besides, she had always been the one to initiate before, and this time, she decided to wait. She waited to see if you wanted her as desperately as she wanted you.

But the silence from you was deafening.

No late-night texts, no "I miss you," not even a casual "wyd." At first, she convinced herself you were just busy. Then she heard through the grapevine that you'd been kissing one of her teammates at some club.

The news hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her pissed off and bitter. If you'd moved on or decided to have fun with some other girl, fine, you weren’t in a relationship anyway — but it didn't make it sting any less. And to top it off, she had to find out from someone else that you were attending the team’s victory party at Lucy’s place.

The audacity, Alexia thought bitterly. Even if it technically was Lucy’s party, she thought you’d have the decency to refuse or to even just give her a heads-up, knowing that it might be weird to be around Alexia and Lucy. No decency at all.

When you got the invite, you hesitated. But then you decided this was your chance to remind Alexia exactly what she had seemingly forgotten about. After all, she'd ghosted you out of nowhere, leaving you high and dry after giving you the best sex of your life.

So, the night of the party, you slipped into a tight black dress that hugged every curve and sprayed on the perfume you knew drove Alexia crazy. If she thought she could move on so easily, you were more than ready to remind her of what she'd lost.

As soon as you entered Lucy’s place, she was the first person you saw.

It wasn't hard for you to see her. She was usually taller than most girls and she always just exuded a confident energy that never failed to catch everyone's attention. She was wearing a black cap and a black jacket, with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows exposing her muscular forearms. Your mind tried not to remember all the times you watched the veins in her arm bulge out so slightly as she pumped her fingers in and out of you.

You locked eyes and her jaw instantly clenched. She looked upset. You would have felt a bit bad about never reaching out to congratulate her on all those winning games or even checking up on her if you didn't see her arm around a shorter girl you didn’t recognize.

Great. I've been replaced.

You rolled your eyes and headed to the corner of the house where Lucy and her other friends were seated.

"Hey, mami." Lucy greeted you. She stood up and gave you a kiss on the cheek, immediately snaking a hand around your waist. You loved how Lucy was never secretive of her finding you irresistible. Once or twice, you thought about riding that strong jaw but you figured you had to see out a complex friends-with-benefits relationship before entering another one. "Looks like we're all out of seats. Why don't you sit on my lap instead?"

You smirked. "You just would grab any opportunity to have me on top of you, huh?"

She smirked, biting her lip. "You know it."

You sat on Lucy's lap sideways, arms around her to secure your spot as your legs dangled on her side. She put her hands around you with her left hand on your back and the other drawing small spirals on your bare lap.

Alexia must have caught sight of this because you saw her looking over, jaw clenched and eyes darkened.

“I’m just so glad this season is done. I seriously need to go out to the clubs and get laid… get all that tension out of my body.” Patri, who was sitting on the floor beside Pina and Salma, complained to the group before taking a swig from her beer. “Nothing like unwinding to a girl between your legs.”

The crowd chuckled. Ingrid playfully threw a rolled up paper towel at Patri calling her gross. You smiled and nodded along as you let Lucy run her hands up and down your leg. “Thirsty, pretty girl?” She asked.

You shook your head. “You?”

“Hmm, why don’t you grab that beer and help me out?” She asked. You smiled as you grabbed the beer with your free hand and put the bottle against Lucy’s mouth, tipping it a bit as you let her drink from it. You bit your lip as the older girl maintained intense eye contact as you did.

Alexia was practically seething from the sight of it but continued to ignore you, staying at the other side of the room. The girl in her arms was trying to chat her up, asking about football or whatever, but all she could focus on was you.

The conversation continued with the group. “I’d hate to be single right now. How do you have the energy to go out and exert all that effort just to get laid?” Mapi exclaimed as she put an arm around her girlfriend who was sitting beside her. “If I were single, I’d rather just grab my vibrator and call it a day.”

Patri rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that cause you have Ingrid.” She retorted. “If you were single, you’d be out there in the clubs with us too.”

You could feel Lucy’s body vibrate against you as she chuckled. You grabbed Lucy’s bottle of beer, drinking from it as you continued to listen in on the conversation that was unfolding.

“I agree with Patri.” Irene chimed in, swirling a plastic cup with her hand. “I’d hate to be single and always end up masturbating at night. That would make me miserable.”

Patri nodded, as she raised her bottle high up. “Exactly, exactly!”

“The orgasm you get from a girl does not compare to one you get alone.” Irene added on, garnering a slow clap from the drunken Patri.

You laughed at the interaction. Lucy turned to you with a small smirk. "How about you? What do you think?"

You paused. You noticed Alexia move closer to our group. You hummed in thought, returning your gaze back to Lucy. "I don't know. I feel like it depends. It's a case-to-case basis and it just depends on who your partner is and what you want." You said, loud enough for others to hear. “So, yeah, I don’t have a clear cut answer.”

Mapi nodded to what you said. “Yeah, but having to find someone who suits you… it just takes too much time. If you’re single, you’re basically gambling every single time you decide to sleep with someone.” She said as she shook her head. “Besides, why would you want someone you barely met handling your precious goods?”

“We get it, Mapi. You’re in a loving relationship where you have sweet, sweet, compatible sex.” Patri said, rolling her eyes and making the crowd chuckle.

Before the two could continue debating, Pina chimed in. “Capitana,” She called Alexia over. "Settle the debate for us. What's a better way of unwinding after football season — masturbating or going out to have someone take care of it for you?"

Alexia moved closer to the group, an arm wrapped around a girl and her other hand wrapped around a red cup. She looked serious with her eyes still fixed on you. "She hasn't actually answered the question yet." She responded, looking at you as she tilted her cup at your direction.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, defeated. "I guess, I'd choose just making myself cum."

Mapi nodded smugly at Patri who felt annoyed.

"Really? I always pegged you as a pillow princess type. Like... the type who has to be pleased by someone else?" Lucy asked, fingertips still suggestively grazing your thighs

You hummed in thought. "Well, I haven’t found anyone who pleases me better than I do myself.” You lied with a shrug, looking directly at Lucy and avoiding Alexia’s gaze. “Why bother trying to find someone to aimlessly poke at me until I fake it when I can just take care of it myself?”

The group laughed at your statement but Alexia remained stoic and stiff. "Really?" Her voice dripped with thinly veiled annoyance. "Are you trying to say that no one has ever made you cum before? You always just fake it?”

“Yeah, no one really comes to mind.” You shook your head. "Besides, I'd much rather spend a night getting tired out by my vibrator rather than to be disappointed by some tryhard who fingers like they have carpal tunnel or eats me out with the same limp energy of an old man with his porridge."

The crowd laughed even harder but Alexia looked even more annoyed. If everyone was sober and in the right mind, they'd catch on to her reaction to your bold statement and figure out there was definitely something between the two of you.

You tried to laugh along but you felt weirdly nervous about lying. Alexia didn’t seem too pleased with your statement. Why is she so pissed off? It’s not as if anyone here knows we’ve slept together.

You were pulled out of your worries when you felt Lucy’s hands move higher up your leg, skimming the skin under your tight dress.

"Why don't you give the poor vibrator a rest from tiring you out," Lucy whispered, playfully using your own words. "And have me give it a try?"

You moved closer to her. "Hmm, I don’t know. Aren’t we just friends now?" You said softly so that the group wouldn’t hear too but still loud enough for Alexia to hear, if she tried hard enough. “Sex might just complicate that.”

“C’mon, we already kissed.” Lucy smiled with eyes that flickered from your eyes to your lips. "Besides, isn’t it worth risking it? I know I can pleasure you better than anyone else ever had.”

You smiled and playfully caressed her strong jaw with your fingers. “Well…” You trailed off seductively in a low voice, moving closer to Lucy’s face. "I've always wanted to feel that strong jaw against—"

Your flirting was cut abruptly when Alexia angrily threw her crumpled red cup to the ground and walked out of Lucy’s place. Everyone looked around confused, including the girl she was with. She blinked curiously as her eyes stuck at the door, wondering why Alexia had left so abruptly; the poor girl was just talking about her new manicure.

"Damn, I guess, no one's making her cum either." Patri joked, garnering a bunch of playful slaps and chuckles from the group but the room still seemed to be confused; Alexia was never the type to storm out in anger out of nowhere.

You tried to just shake off Alexia's mood swing and returned to flirting with Lucy but just minutes later, Alexia was storming back into the living room. She stomped her way to you and grabbed your hand, basically yanking you off of Lucy. You nearly tripped over your own feet as she grabbed you.

"What the fuck, Alexia?" You exclaimed as you were pulled by the arm by the tall blonde. "That fucking hurts. What's your problem?"

She didn't speak up. She basically dragged across the house until you reached what seemed like Lucy’s bedroom. She slammed the door loudly and locked it behind her.

Now that you were alone, you could see the annoyed look on her face, the redness across her cheeks, the tightness of her expression… and the slight bulge in her pants. Oh... that's what she had to get from her car when she stormed out.

She slammed you against the bedroom door, towering over you and trapping you with her arms. You gulped as you felt your back press flatly against the door.

Alexia suddenly grabbed your face with one hand, gripping so hard your lips were almost puckering out. "Why are you running your mouth about how no one's made you cum?" She said with a low, threatening voice. Her hazel eyes had darkened under the dim lights of the bedroom.

You stared at her, blinking your eyes in fear. She was so frightening when she was mad; it was like she was a completely different person. Her eyes, which were usually warm, were staring at you pointedly. All of the muscles in her face clenched as she slightly grit her teeth. And, while you were actually scared, you were also getting incredibly turned on.

Alexia squished your face harder, slamming her other hand on the door. You felt the wood pressed behind you vibrate with the force. "Answer." She leaned in and aggressively bit the side of your neck, sinking her teeth into you.

You gasped loudly in shock. "Ahh, Alexia, that really hurts."

She ignored you. She moved her head back to stare you in the eyes before she wrapped her hand around your throat. "Tell me who makes you cum." She asked.

You gulped as you felt her hand tighten slowly. "I'm sorry, Alexia." You responded, feeling incredibly nervous and intimidated. "I'm sorry I lied. I was just joking. I just missed you so much and I was frustrated that you never contacted me and I just wanted to see you react to —"

You gagged as her hand suddenly got tighter. "I didn't ask for an explanation." She growled. "I asked who fucking makes you cum."

You gasped for air as her hand loosened a bit. "It's you, baby. It's just you." You croaked out.

"What did you just fucking call me?" She growled in your ear; you felt the familiar electric tingle in your spine as she breathed heavily against your ear. “You don’t get to fucking call me that when you’ve been such a brat.”

"Alexia," You moaned, correcting yourself. "It's you, Alexia. It's you who makes me cum. Only you make me cum, Alexia.."

You felt like a blubbering mess but Alexia seemed pleased because she let your throat go, and fondly touched your cheek instead with her thumb. You inhaled deeply before leaning towards her to kiss her but she moved away.

"Bad girls don't get kisses." Her mouth quirked up into a smirk. "Bad girls get on their knees instead and offer their mouth like a slut."

You looked down again and you were once again reminded of the strap poking against the front of her denim pants. You gulped but got on your knees and slowly unbuttoned her baggy jeans which revealed a harnessed strap-on above her Calvin Klein underwear.

You bit your lip. You gasped when Alexia grabbed a chunk of your hair and looked down on you. "Open your mouth." She said as she tilted your head back with her hand.

You opened your mouth, obediently. "Now, stick your tongue out, you fucking slut." She ordered in a low but firm voice.

You didn't let a second pass before you followed her instructions, opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out as far as it could go. She smiled at your obedience before leaning over and spitting in your mouth. You nearly moaned just from the action but before anything could escape your mouth, she slammed her hips against my throat and fucked your mouth with her silicone member.

She grunted and cursed as she watched you suck and gag on it. "That’s right. Suck like a good girl."

You moaned in response as you eagerly sucked on the strap as if your life depended on it. You were gagging a lot with Alexia’s force and your face was streaked with tears but you felt incredibly turned on by the sight and the feeling.

Alexia was gasping and groaning as the base of her strap pressed against her own clit, forming a dark pool on her grey underwear. You moaned at the combination of the sound of her guttural moans and the smell of her wetness. You could practically feel your core grow more and more moist by the second.

"Fucking suck harder, you fucking slut." Her voice sounded venomous with all the expletives she was hissing out. "You don't get to flirt with other bitches in front of me. I own you."

"Or do you just let any other bitch fuck you like this?" She grunted out, looking down at you. Alexia never went this rough with you before but she was starting to enjoy it, especially the sight of your tear-stained face and puffy lips wrapped around her strap. "Are you that much of a pathetic whore? You just let anyone fuck your throat like this?"

You shook your head, unable to speak as she was filling your mouth with the silicone. She moaned out as she pushed your head even further.

You felt tears sting your eyes as she thrusted in your throat with such vigor and roughness. For a moment, you felt like you were just a doll made to satisfy her lust and oddly, it made your core ache more for her.

Alexia tilted her head back, thrusting against your throat. The base of the strap was perfectly hitting against her clit. It felt satisfying knowing she was getting off of fucking your mouth with her strap even if that meant that your throat would be sore in the morning.

"That's right, cariño." She moaned out. "Take all of me.”

It didn't take long until Alexia moaned out. She pulled your head off of her, making a satisfying sound as it exited your mouth. You coughed and wiped the tears and saliva off of your face, clutching your throat as you started to feel the discomfort spread.

Before you could even do or say anything more, Alexia yanked you up immediately and pushed you towards the bed. You fell backwards on the bed, feeling your dress ride up on your body, pooling together near your hips which meant your underwear could be easily seen by the blonde gir.

You felt so exposed and vulnerable.

She took off her jacket and her shirt, revealing her Calvin Klein sports bra and her toned stomach glistening with sweat. You bit your lip as she walked closer to the bed. The dim light entering the windows from the street lights outside and the small night light in the corner of the room was accentuating every contour of her body.

"Strip. Now."

You frantically tried to remove your tight dress. It made it so difficult to remove as some of it clung to your sweaty skin. You felt unsexy wriggling out of it in bed. But, you also felt nervous, knowing Alexia wasn't always the patient type in bed.

"Hurry the fuck up." She groaned. You tried but she grew more frustrated. She took your dress and pulled it off your body roughly. You heard some seams rip as she did but you didn't give a fuck. You were more concerned about her impatience and how it was gonna affect you.

You were mostly bare in front of her, only wearing a pair of lacy black underwear which was now glistening with your translucent nectar.

She chuckled. "You really are a little slut." She said as she used a finger to graze your core, making you whimper. "Look how wet you got just from getting throatfucked by me. I haven't even touched you and your cunt is all drenched."

"Yes, Alexia." You moaned out as she pressed a finger against your clit.

"You really were talking your shit about how no one makes you cum while your cunt is quivering and soaking wet just from giving me a blowjob." Her fingers were so delicate against your core — a weird juxtaposition with the roughness of her words. "I wonder what everyone else would think if they heard you moaning out my name just after you lied out there. They'd think less of you... they'd think you're a dirty liar who loves to provoke just to get fucked. Isn't that right?"

You gulped and bit your lip as she gently moved her fingers up and down your opening, teasing you with the pad of her fingers.

You were broken out of a trance when her hand was squeezing your face again. "Answer me."

"Yes, yes, Alexia." You responded, almost out of breath. “I’m a liar.”

"And I don’t like liars. Right, cariño?" She let go of your face and backed away slowly.

Before you could respond, two fingers were thrust into your hole, roughly fucking you. You moaned out loudly as you felt Alexia's fingers rapidly move inside you with complete disregard of letting you adjust to her fingers. She leaned over to your breasts, sucking on them so roughly that it was almost painful.

"Alexia," You moaned out. "Please give me your strap. Alexia, please."

Alexia ignored you as she continued to fuck you with her fingers and suck on your torso, leaving you branded with bruises all over and glistening with a mixture of your sweat and her saliva.

"Alexia, please." You whimpered.

She groaned loudly before pulling her fingers out of you. You don't know how but she managed to get you off of the bed and pressed against the door again in a swift motion. This time, your front was pressed against the door — hands against the cold wood — with your butt sticking out.

She grunted out curt instructions for you to steady yourself against the door as she positioned herself behind you. She gripped your waist roughly with her long fingers as she rubbed your cunt with the length of her strap. You bit your lip, holding back your moans, too afraid that your proximity to the door would mean everyone out there would hear you, even with the music they were playing.

You grunted out when you felt her grab your hair and mutter in your ear. "You better not choke down those moans, cariño."

She let go of your hair before slamming the entire length of the strap inside you. You moaned out loudly, struggling to grip yoyr hands against the flat door.

"Baby, it hurts.” You winced as you felt her begin to thrust.

"Who said you can call me baby again?" She practically shouted it before raising her hand, landing it on your right ass. It made a loud sound, quickly followed by your loud cry of pain and pleasure.

"I’m sorry, Alexia." You responded. Alexia grabbed on to your waist again, thrusting her silicone dick in and out of you. You were feeling the pain in your core as the silicone stretched you but it was such an addictive pain. It felt so satisfying being filled by Alexia like this.

Alexia must have sensed how close you were to an orgasm because she picked up the pace. The base of the strap hitting your slick vagina which made a loud sound, accompanying your loud moans and Alexia's grunts.

"Alexia, don't stop. I'm so close. Please." You moaned out, hands and legs shaking.

"Don't cum until I tell you." Alexia's voice was strained as well. You knew the base of the strap was rubbing against her own clit too. "If you cum before I do, I will take you out of this room and fuck you in front of everyone else so they can see how much of a fucking, lying whore you really are."

You moaned at that statement, making it even harder for you to delay your orgasm. You felt your walls clench against the strap. Alexia picked up the speed even more, driving you into a frenzy. You were practically a blubbering mess — face pressed against the door and hands trying to cling on to the flat surface as a string of incoherent moans and words left your mouth.

"Alexia, please." You felt like you were going to collapse any moment soon, struggling to keep your clammy hands from slipping off of the door.

Alexia slammed her dick into you a couple times more before saying, "Cum."

You almost shouted in pleasure as you felt the orgasm ripple through your body, making your legs feel like jelly. You felt the warmth spread through you as you exclaimed her name another time as Alexia thrust a few more times to ride out her own orgasm.

You wanted to fall on the floor and just lay there but Alexia's grip on your hips remained firm that it was almost impossible for you to fall over. She put you upright again, one hand firmly on your hips and the other cupping your chest as she helped you up. She gently guided you back to bed.

You laid on your back, out of breathe as she crawled on top of you. "No one makes you cum right?" She teased.

You rolled your eyes to playfully smack her but she caught your hand smoothly and put it above your head. "I'm not done with you." Her serious face was back.

Your eyes widened. You felt like your body would give up on you if you werefucked again but that didn't seem to stop Alexia.

Her hand found its way to your cunt. You felt her thumb and index finger gently fiddle with your clit before pressing roughly, then pinching it.

"Alexia!" You yelped, instinctively pushing on her shoulders a bit

She let go of your clit and began roughly rubbing instead. You put your arms around her shoulders, holding her closer as she rubbed your core. She moved closer to yoy before kissing and sucking on your neck, leaving more bruises for you to worry about the next morning.

"Oh, Ale, that feels so good." You said in a hum of pleasure as your eyes fluttered shut.

Alexia managed to push the hood off of your clit and began gently rubbing and flicking against the tiny, sensitive part of it, overstimulating you. You moaned out again and tightened your hold of her.

"Who makes you cum?" She asked in your ear.

"You."

"Say my name." She ordered before sinking her teeth on your collarbone and sinking her two fingers back into your vagina.

You gasped before you shouted. "Alexia! Alexia! It's you, Alexia!"

She continued to kiss your neck as she fucked you with her fingers and rubbed your clit with her thumb.

"Alexia, I'm close! I'm so close!" You moaned out as she pumped in and out. "Alexia! Please!"

"Cum for me, cariño." She whispered so gently and as she did, you shouted out her name as you held on to her, experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life.

She chuckled. "Hmm, I don't think you've squirted this much before."

Yoy blinked a bit before sitting up to see that Lucy's bed was completely drenched. You felt your face become red as you realized the mess you two have made.

Alexia was smiling, satisfied at her work. You pouted your lips as you looked at her. "Baby, can I have kisses now?"

She leaned close to your face again. "Only if my princess promises she's going to be a good girl from now on."

"Yes, Alexia." You said, pouting your lips as you looked into your eyes. You gave her an irresistible wide-eyed innocent look — the kind you knew she could never resist.

She smirked before she leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. You grabbed on to the back of her neck to deepen the kiss but just a while after, she pulled away. "Why don't I take you back to my place and then you can let my neighbors hearyour pretty little moans too?"

You chuckled. "Okay, Alexia."

You got up from the bed, and got dressed with Alexia. She apologized for ruining your dress but she didn't really look sorry for it. She actually looked proud and smug. You straightened up your appearance as much as you could before Alexia and you stepped out of the room.

To your shock, a few people from the group earlier were hovering near the bedroom door with mixed expressions of horror and amusement. They tried to not make it obvious that they heard you get absolutely wrecked by Alexia.

“Damn,” Patri shook her head as she turned to Mapi. “I want whatever those two are having.”

a/n: i barely edited this and proofread it once. i might have fucked up with some pronouns and would appreciate if anyone dms me to correct hehe. anyway, i hope you guys liked it esp since this is more intense and rougher than everything i’ve ever written before. tags: @micaluvssoccer @buzzinrusso @hermen0404 @mrcat77 @oh-thats-cute @iamagoddess1 @noone-find-me @zairaaaa @vlt4845 @oakwave @sam23114 @louxbloom @ppx004 @serynsworld @oohtobeagooner @daylightisa @xxforeverinadayxx @itsandreaca @liagracexx @julesthegreatsimp p @mysticfalls01 @maddiewrites11 @besitosakusa @alexiputellas-protector @wosoloverthings @alexiaswiftie @katycat0811 @femmefataledotcom @footygirl114 @baddestbittyontheblock @wosolipa @mpileons @girlmineis @a-pute11as @hella-hecka-gay @alexiaputellasera a + more but i couldnt tag u all aaa

[miley1442111]

(part 1) before his choice- a.donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

this is like the prelude to the other stuff but i get that it's confusing that it's coming out later- i didn't think i'd turn this into a series so i didn't exactly have a plan, sorry :)

this is 18+, mdni plssss

summary: how it was before art ruined your relationship

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: smuttttt, 18+, piv using protection (don't be silly, wrap it), oral (f receiving), cute couple moments

(i think that's it but pls tell me if i forgot anything:)

Part 1 of 12

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“There goes Stanford’s favourite couple!” Megan rolled her eyes playfully. Art had his arms draped around your shoulders as you walked around campus as the sun set. Art chuckled and flipped her off, smirking as you laughed. Megan had been your roommate in your first year and you’d been best friends ever since.

You and Art were Stanford’s favourite couple. You were tennis prodigies, both extremely talented and both of you were friends with basically everyone. Everyone was always rooting for the two of you, apparently there was a fan page dedicated to your relationship. 

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“How was practice with Tash?” He asked, his arms circling your waist as you leant against the wall, waiting in line in the canteen. 

“Fine, she’s getting better,” You shrugged. Tashi had never been able to beat you, but she was getting better.

“She’s not going to beat you,” He smirked, pressing kisses against your cheeks.

“She’s really good!” You giggled, feeling his hands squeeze your waist harder. “I wouldn’t mind, maybe then she wouldn’t hate me.”

“Tashi doesn’t hate you,” he shook his head. He knew it was a semi-lie, Tashi didn't like loosing. You were the only person capable of making her loose.

“She doesn’t like me Art, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you sighed. “Anyway, enough tennis, what are we doing tonight?”

Art smirked. “We have that party-”

You groaned. Art always wanted to go out, then leave early. In your opinion, why not just cut out the middleman and go straight to your dorm? “Art, what is the point?”

“You look hot in dresses,” He shrugged and chuckled as you playfully hit him on the arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can dance and hang out with our friends.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he’s pretending it’s a choice. “It’s not like I have a choice, I picked date night last time.” 

“Exactly, so we’re going,” he grinned and you cupped his cheek, kissing him heavily. He was so beautiful, what else were you supposed to do? You pulled away quickly and moved up in the line, beginning to order both your lunches. You drove Art insane sometimes. Your pretty tennis skirts, your sweet lips on his, you. 

He did recognise that his brain was still stuck in the gutter like a teenage boy when it came to sex. He didn’t seem to mind much though. 

He placed his hand on your ass as you ordered for the both of you and he saw how you gulped.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’s head was in the gutter. 

You collected your food and sat at a table together, enjoying the canteen food.

“You’ll wear the red dress, right?” He asked. It was his favourite colour, and the colour of the college that the two of you would be representing. 

“No, Nike sent over something for me to wear, I think it’s purple,” you shrugged. Your partnership with Nike meant at every event you went to, you were representing them. That meant they were often sending you new things. 

“Purple?” He questioned.

“Yeah, like plum-y purple,” you shrugged. 

“Can’t wait,” he winked at you and you kicked him under the table. 

Tonight was going to be a long night. 

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You finished styling your hair as Art walked into your dorm, baby blue shirt and some black formal trousers on, his blonde curls looking particularly beautiful. The dress Nike had sent over was beautiful, Art’s jaw dropped when he saw you. 

You were gorgeous. 

“Hey baby,” You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his stunned cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He stated. You chuckled at him as his hands gripped your waist, making you look at him. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

“You look handsome,” You smiled, smoothing out his collar. “Ready to go?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he decided, lust-filled eyes staring into yours before he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. 

You kissed back immediately, your hands running through his curls. You probably had a ‘thing’ for his hair. His hands smoothed up the expanse of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. This is what he was, passionate, loving, and a little bit possessive. He radiated heat, his chest against your as he pushed you against the wall, his lips never leaving yours. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips as your hands dipped lower, going directly for his trousers zipper. 

“So are you,” you smiled, kissing him again. His hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You unzipped him then started working on his shirt buttons, both of you forgetting about the party. 

His hands quickly pulled at your bra and underwear, leaving you bare as he stripped himself, thanking his past self for keeping a stock of condoms in your bedside table. He leaned over, quickly grabbing one and opening it with his teeth, sheathing his hard cock as you looked at him under you. He met your glazed eyes, lustfully looking at him, a soft smile on your face. 

You were so beautiful. 

You sank down on him, never quite used to the stretch he provided. “Fuck,” you moaned out. 

His eyes rolled back as you buried him inside of you. His hands gripped your waist, the faint remnants of bruises left from earlier in the week, when he was in this exact position. He pulled your face down to his as you started moving and started kissing up and down your neck between moans. He changed the position slightly, thrusting up into you to reach the gummy spot inside of you that made you scream out for him.

“God,” he groaned. “Fuck… f-fuck.”

You felt so good around him, it was one of his favourite feelings, the absolute euphoria of having your wrapped around him, using him to get yourself off.  

“You’re so good,” you whined breathlessly. “So good.”

Your voice and moans spurred him on, he loved your voice. He loved everything about you. 

“You gonna cum?” He whined, thrusting up into you. You nodded, bouncing on him harder as you began reaching your climax. He felt you tighten around him and he gasped, trying to not cum so quickly. 

“I’m c-cumming,” You groaned in his ear and he was a goner. He cupped your cheek, hap-harzardly kissing you to swallow the scream that was bound to leave his lips. You gripped his hips to still his uncoordinated and subscious thrusts as you both came down from your highs. 

Art still wasn’t done, he needed to taste you. “Let me taste it, please?” He begged, pulling himself out of you. “Please?”

“Art, we’re already late,” you reminded him through your sex-fueled haze. 

“Please, just let me kiss it,” he begged, kissing down your body, his fingers finding your sopping core. You moaned at the contact and nodded, a meek ‘please’ leaving your lips. 

That was all the confirmation Art needed. He latched his lips onto your clit, drawing out moan after moan. His fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, paying special attention to your g-spot. His tongue sucked over your over-sensitive clit and brought you to another two orgasms, not being able to stop himself from humping the bed in his enchanted state. He loved how you tasted, he couldn’t get enough of it, he never wanted to. If he could spend his days between your legs he would. 

After you came for the third time that night, he connected your lips again and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

Your fucked-out face was truly a sight to behold, and he had the pleasure of seeing it whenever he pleased. 

“Come on, we have a party to go to,” He smirked and you whined as he cleaned you up by running three fingers through your soaking core and licking them clean. 

He appreciated the new marks on your neck that he had created as you slowly got up. You dressed yourself in the beautiful dress once again, fixing your hair and makeup, then spraying yourself with some more perfume, attempting to cover the smell of sex. 

As you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he thought about how perfect you were, his hand in yours as he drove you to the party. 

Little did he know that this party would lead to the beginning of the end of your relationship.

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art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ mingi x afab!reader

synopsis ✭ mingi is just feeling that baby fever.

genre/rating ✭ smut 18+ MDNI

word count ✭ 1k

notes ✭ this is a request from @meltingmidas 💗

warnings ✭ smut, heavy breeding/pregnancy kink (that is literally the whole plot 💀), pet names (mama, sweetheart, he calls himself daddy), implied creampie

✭ ✭ ✭

You could tell something was different with Mingi the moment he dragged you into bed. He was more forceful than usual, gripping hard at your ass and thighs, massaging them with his hands and murmuring about how pretty they were.

This behavior in itself was nothing out of the ordinary, but something about the way he held you and the way he kissed you so desperately, made him seem more…needy. 

He was still patient, though, letting his foreplay take its course. His soft lips engulfed your own, and his throat let out breathy groans every time you tugged at his hair. The silky strands were soft under your fingers as you pulled at them at every moment of pleasure. 

His hands trailed from your thighs to your naked tummy. He brought his lips to your ear, “Baby~” his voice was low and husky (a sign he was unusually horny), “remember that conversation we had earlier?” 

You tried to think back to that morning, tried to recall what you had said to him, but the way he kissed your neck between words drove you crazy. All you could think about was the wetness of his lips on your skin. You shook your head.

He hummed in mock disappointment, “Come on. You can do it.” He smirked at the little gasp you made when he reached his hand into your panties, “Use that pretty little head of yours.”

The soft whimper you let out when he slotted his middle and pointer fingers between your folds almost made Mingi lose his composure, “Mingi!” You gasped at the contact of them on your clit, “I don’t know.”

“Oh baby…” he cooed, “It’s okay.” He pushed two fingers into your pussy, groaning at how wet you already were, “Do you need me to remind you?”

You arched your back slightly and nodded with your mouth dropped open. 

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts, resting his cheek on one as he played with the nipple of your other. Pinching it between his fingers and watching how you gasped lightly at the contact, “You remember how we talked in the kitchen earlier.”

Talked? You only remembered him fucking you over the countertop this morning.

“You asked me if we were ready for a baby,” he glanced up at you, his face still resting on your chest, “I can’t stop thinking about it.” He moves his hand down to your stomach again, “I just keep imagining you so full with my cum. You wouldn’t be able to keep it all in.” His fingers speed up, “And your tummy so swollen.” You moaned out his name as his fingers pushed you close to your first orgasm, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you mama?:

“Pl-ease,” your back arched completely off the bed.

He leans up to kiss your forehead, “Shhh, it’s okay. Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for daddy.” His bottom lip disappears between his teeth as he watches you release on his fingers. Your thighs already shaking.

✭ ✭ ✭

“You’re gonna let me cum inside you, right baby?” He muses, hissing as your nails dig into his back, “It’s ok. Mark up my back, mama,” he groans into your ear, “Gotta let everyone know who’s baby’s in this pretty belly.”

Just the thought of him cumming inside you has you going absolutely insane. That thought paired with the movement of his hips, so calculated and deep. God so deep. 

“Shit,” he wrapped an arm around your waist and held you against his chest. Keeping his pace up. Allowing himself to bury his cock deeper than either of you thought possible.

“You’re gonna look so pretty with my baby in you. Don’t you think?” You nodded dumbly, barely aware of anything but his cock hitting your spot over and over and fucking over again.

Your pussy was his. His to bury his cock in every day and night. His to spit on and kiss whenever he saw fit. And absolutely his to breed until there was no question where you belonged. 

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” he grunted. He hovered his face above your own. Smirking when you leaned up anf tried to kiss him. Despite his teasing, though, he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly, “Come on mama. Can you cum on my cock?” He rested his forehead on your own as you nodded, “Yeah? Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for me.” When you tightened around him, he felt himself snap. He kissed your lips again, deeper this time, as you both came together.

When he pulled out, he sat back at watched you from between your legs. You chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Mingi ran his thumb from you clit down to your hole. Making sure to push every bit of cum back inside you. You shuddered with delight at every touch. 

And he just watched you. Letting you regain your composure and your ability to think. Massaging your thighs. Just giving you little touches to remind you of his presence.

✭ ✭ ✭

He snuggled up behind you. Dressed in just a grey pair of sweatpants, he held you close. Nuzzling his nose over the skin of your neck, you giggled softly at the contact. His arms held you securely into his chest, and his hands rested over your belly. 

“He’s growing fast,” Mingi commented groggily, clearly about to fall asleep.

A smile formed on your lips that he couldn’t see, “He is, isn’t he?”

“Do you think we’re ready?” He asked, more out of curiosity than genuine concern.

“Baby, we’re probably never gonna be fully prepared,” you rested your hands over his own, “But I know you’ll be a great dad.”

He hummed and kissed the nape of your neck, “I could say the same for you.”

“Yeah?” he nodded, his hair tickling the back of your neck.

“Do you think,” his hand on your stomach, “we could have another one soon?”

Your only response was a kick to his shin.

[donatellawritings]

Rich to me is always the friends to lovers (everybody sees it but you two) it’s him yelling “behind” at everyone but sliding behind you with a hand on your hip “behind sweetheart” it’s you walking into the group of boys smoking outside & u bypass everyone to grab a smoke straight from his lips “thanks babe” it’s family having no empty chairs at the table so you sit on his lap while Syd & carm just stare. I think you’d bring my wish to life beautifully written. I need all the build up to the smut

can i just say that richie is definitely the type to be a jagoff to everyone, but never to you - everyone else knew how to work his last nerve, but you and your cutesy smile and bright eyes would make him all warm and fuzzy for sure

explicit sexual content ahead

it was no secret to anyone who worked at the restaurant (or had eyes) that you and richie had a ‘special’ kind of relationship. for starters, it wasn’t common for a hotheaded man, like richie jerimovich, to be so touchy and lovey-dovey with anyone. i mean, not even his ex-wife got to see that side of him often, and they shared a child. however there was something about you that just made richie feel as though he needed to be around you, protect you, handle you tenderly.

maybe it was because you were younger than him - fuck if he knew, all richie knew in his heart of hearts was that he had it bad for you.

things between you two started off gradually, “gotta get past you, sweetheart,” the older man rasped, the warm and calloused palm of his hand gently cradling the small of your lower back as he made his way past you, his tall frame easily reaching over you to grab ahold of a pot from the top cabinet.

you’d simply nod wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained forward in an effort to conceal the blush that rose to your cheeks.

after weeks of comfortability that increased between the two of you, you decided you’d test the waters. you’d watched carefully as he made his way out of the back door that led behind the building of the beef. quickly scanning over the not-so-busy environment of the restaurant, you walked away from the cash register, towards the back exit of the beef.

“i’ll be back in ten!” you called out, earning a mumble of approval from carmy and sydney who were entirely too engrossed in a conversation about expanding the menu.

the moment you’d exited the restaurant, the unforgiving cold winter chicago air bit at you, causing you to hiss as you quickly folded your arms tightly over your chest, your fitted ‘the beef’ t-shirt lifting a bit as you turned to find richie leaned against the brick wall.

he was so rugged and laid back, it drove you insane. his hoodie remained open, revealing the matching t-shirt that clung to his slim abdomen, one of his hands shoved in the pocket of his adidas track pants, while the other held a cigarette to his lips. richie didn’t notice your presence yet, too involved in a conversation with sweeps and marcus.

you’d decided it would be the perfect time to push the envelope, walking directly past marcus and sweeps as you approached richie, a flutter now swirling in your stomach as he raised his eyebrows at you, cigarette loosely held between his sharp teeth.

you two held eye contact for a beat, before you gently grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, before raising it to sit sit between the swell of your lips, taking a quick pull from the cigarette, “thanks babe,” you exhaled with a sweet close-mouthed smile.

all richie could do was swallow thickly, nodding to himself before he returned his attention back to the conversation at hand, softly swatting the side of your thigh when he decided that it was time for you to return the cigarette.

it was then, that things started to reach a whole new level of touchiness and couple-like actions between you and richie.

today was family. your second-most favorite day of the week, aside from payday. you were a bit late to the function, courtesy of your hair appointment, walking into the main room of the restaurant, instantly being greeted with a chorus of differing ‘hello’s’.

“hi, m’sorry for being late, my hair girl was late!” you rushed to explain, shrugging off richie’s your zip-up hoodie as you glanced around the room, seeing that all seats were occupied, “oh.”

sydney’s eyes widened as she shared the same realization, “fuck, uh, maybe we can get you an extra seat from the office, i-” she began, taking a bit too long, leaving richie no choice, but to come up with a solution of his own.

“s’nothing syd, she can sit with me,” richie spoke with a careless shrug, his mouth full of pasta as he looked up at you, swallowing his food before continuing, “c’mon, sweetheart.”

you obliged, your lips suddenly running dry as you walked towards richie’s seat, softly grabbing his outstretched hand as he gently guided your hips to sit comfortably against his.

you slightly shifted your hips, sending a shock to your clit as his bulge deliciously sat flush against your ass, “thanks, richie,” you muttered, focusing your gaze on the pasta dish that sat before you.

richie leaned back into his seat, the suddenly awkward silence of the dining room now becoming a bit too apparent to him. shaking his head, richie kept one of his arms loosely hung around you, before clearing his throat.

“yo, i don’t know why the fuck everyone is being fuckin’ quiet,” he huffed, his eyes now landing on carmy and sydney, before he sighed, “cousin, just say what the fuck you’re grateful for already!”

it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their normal conversations, about twenty minutes passing, before richie decided to lean in close to you, bringing his lips to your ear.

“m’ready to get the fuck outta here.”

and that’s how you ended up in the driver’s seat of richie’s car, his seat fully reclined back, one hand gripping the back of your neck, while the other guided your hips to bounce hard against his.

“ah, fuck - y’gonna make me cum in you if you keep fuckin’ me like that, sweetheart,” richie groaned, moving the hand that guided your hips to your back, pushing you further into his chest as he fucked up into you.

your face was in his neck, throaty moans and gasps leaving your lips as you sloppily kissed and sucked at the skin of his neck, the sound of your hips slapping into each other mixed with the squelch and slurp of your wet pussy taking his length leaving you a needy mess.

you were so close to reaching your peak, your pulsing hole clenching around richie’s dick as his thrust remained forceful and rough, “i can fuckin’ feel you around me, baby, y’want me to make you cum, yeah,” he chuckled, leaning his head against the headrest as he brought his hand to your hip, grinding your hips flush against his in circular motions.

“fuck, richie,” was all you could mewl through your gritted teeth, your stomach tight as your clit rubbed against the wet skin of his pelvis.

“keep ridin’ me, sweetheart,” he whispered, pecking your flexed temple as he forced your hips deeps against his, “just keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.”

yeah, your relationship with your coworker was far from orthodox, but neither of you seemed to get enough of it. nor, did you want to.

[stilessflannel]

it was only supposed to be kissing.

not that stiles was complaining - in fact, almost everyone knew how completely smitten he was with you. obviously, you were clueless of it, completely mis-interpreting stiles’ flirting for simple teasing as you two were the best of friends and simply not a match. but the boy couldn’t help it.

you were too perfect, a characteristic stiles normally folded to. you radiated a beautiful aura that made it seem as though there was nothing about you that anyone could possibly dislike.

or maybe it was simply your beauty was what drew stiles towards you. but he wasn’t the only one who seemed captivated with you.

he would notice it, guys giving you lingering looks that would piss stiles off at first - he was just being protective, of course you’re his precious friend so it would be automatic for him to feel protective, but he would notice how he wasn’t as seriously triggered, his jaw wouldn’t clench, when lydia received this attention. that was another special quality about you, you had this power over stiles that he wasn’t aware of before.

you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

so when you asked stiles to teach you how to kiss, he immediately replied yes without any hesitation. at first, it was awkward, as you had appeared peculiarly jumpy, and stiles was concerned because you had been quiet and had barley responded to him. when the words escaped your lips, all of his thoughts left his mind and his response came quickly and without consideration.

“could you, like - well, teach me how to kiss?” you asked sheepishly, looking adorably embarrassed. “properly?”

“yeah, sure love”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨﹒ ✦﹒୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

stiles learnt two things when his lips touched yours:

1. your lips were the sweetest fucking thing he had ever tasted. at first you were reluctant, even shy, but stiles taught you how to wrap your arms around his neck, pull him closer and kiss him. the way your soft lips caressed his drove him insane. he showed you how to do it by licking your bottom lip gently, which made your lips part and allowed him to further explore your mouth, nearly groaning at the taste of you until he forced himself to stop before he could get ahead of himself.

you’re here to teach her how to kiss, not make out with her, you idiot

2. stiles couldn’t help but think about the fact that you just asked him to teach you how to kiss expertly so you could kiss other guys, and for some reason that thought made him want to explode. the idea that you were going to kiss another guy made him feel a rush of rage. the only thing that ever made him feel jealous was the idea of another guy touching you, kissing you like he was doing now, or worse fucking your pretty self.

you drew away from the kiss, appearing out of breath, with swollen lips and sparkling eyes - you are so gorgeous, stiles could stare at you for hours.

“what is it? did I do it wrong?” you asked, finding him staring at you dazed.

“no, it’s perfect,” stiles said, and without thinking he added, “you’re perfect.”

your cheeks flushed a light red as you grew flustered, but asked, “so I did good? no problem?”

“there’s one problem,” stiles muttered, drawing you closer to him as he pulled you to sit on his lap, both of your chests brushing against each others, and you were both breathing heavily. “i can’t stop.”

you were quiet for a moment and stiles was ready to scold himself for becoming too attached to your addictive self and couldn’t help himself when you suddenly shifted on his lap, your crotch brushing against his already hard dick in his shorts. he knew you could feel it too, since your eyes gleamed with unexpected need at the pressure on your clit, and he had to restrain himself from groaning.

your body shivered, as you looked up at him through your lashes, making him roll his bottom teeth between his lips. “then don’t stop.” you whispered.

those words were all it took for stiles to snap. he snaked his hands under your skirt and pulled you dangerously close to him, and found a way to cup the supple skin of your ass. you moaned in surprise as he attacked your lips with a hot, rough kiss, and you unconsciously started rocking your hips against his clothed dick. he runs his hands through your hair and slightly tugs on it, causing you to moan more. as he left your lips, he skimmed his teeth against your jaw to your neck, and began pressing his lips to your soft skin.

he was driven wild by the whimper that escaped your luscious lips. as you began to grind firmly against stiles’ clothed dick while tightly grasping his shoulder, stiles could see you were getting frantic. his eyes grew dark as he guided you against his lap with his hands on your hips, grinding you back and forth as he continued to teach you.

stiles murmurs, “come on, pretty girl” and then he trails his hot kisses down your neck and onto your ear, biting on your earlobe and making you mewl with pleasure, “i can feel how soaking wet you are… ride me, come on, let me feel you more”

he could feel you were doing well as his hands guided you as you ground down against his crotch. he continued kissing your neck and sucking on the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, making you moan and giving you the impression it would definitely leave a mark. stiles was happy to think about this, suddenly remembering how this happened in the first place: you asking him to teach you how to kiss. he tightened his hold on you until he felt you whimper against him, riding his clothed hard dick almost desperately - and stiles could feel his anger bubbling at the thought of you doing this with someone else.

“you’re not kissing anyone else after this, you hear me?”

you briefly looked at him, confused, “what?-“

stiles’ eyes darkened with jealously. “tell me i’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”

he could sense the desire coursing throughout you, and he fucking loved it.yYou were grinding against him, and stiles had to restrain himself from tearing your clothes and his just so he could fuck you deep and hard right there and then.

you were close, he could feel it, you were clinging to him tightly, rubbing up on his dick almost like you were bouncing on him. He glanced up at you, your eyes briefly closing in ecstasy, your pretty lips half open and letting out soft whimpers, and your beautiful face transforming into something vibrant.

“yes,” you gasp. “only you, stiles—fuck…only you.”

the corners of his mouth turned up slightly into a pleased grin. “such a good girl. i can’t wait to fuck you.”

you grew flustered but his eyes sparkled in mischief. “teach me that?” but stiles was already pulling you much closer with a hungry look in his eyes.

“i’ll teach you everything, angel.”

repost off my old a03 account

[halfmoonaria]

chasing

pairing: cairo sweet x female reader

summary: cairo finds herself doing something she’s never done before.

wordcount: 3.3k

Cairo always got what she wanted.

She knew how to bend people to her will with a well-timed glance, a dangerous smirk, or a few whispered words that could send chills down anyone's spine.

Manipulation was an art she had mastered, her every move calculated and deliberate. She could sense the shift in a room the moment she walked in, how people instinctively gravitated toward her.

There was something almost intoxicating about the way people danced around her, eager to be on her good side.

So, when you, the new student walked into the room, confident and stunning, Cairo was certain you'd be no different.

She knew she'd have your attention in no time.

However, you didn't fall into line like the others.

You didn't focus on her the way she expected. Sure, you smiled, you were kind, but you treated her just like you treated everyone else.

You were friendly with everyone.

Too friendly, in her opinion. And that didn't sit right with her.

You had a way of floating between conversations, effortlessly charming everyone with your smile, your laugh, that way you had of making people feel seen. It grated on Cairo. Not because she didn't like it—no, she was impressed. Intrigued, even. But you treated her like everyone else.

And Cairo wasn't "everyone else."

She didn't want to be just another face you smiled at before moving on.

From the moment she set her sights on you, Cairo had already mapped out the game plan.

She'd sweep in with a little subtlety, make sure you knew that your attention should be on her. That she wasn't just another person you smiled at and moved on from. But every time she tried to catch your eye, she found herself met with the same warm smile you gave to everyone else.

It drove her insane.

You weren't playing the game right.

At first, she tried to be subtle, thinking she could reel you in with a little charm.

She'd linger near your conversations, leaning in just enough to draw your attention, flashing you a smile that usually sent people stumbling over their words. But you never did.

It irked her more than she'd ever admit.

One afternoon, she caught you at your locker, her presence lingering just a bit closer than necessary.

She didn't need to say much—just enough to remind you she was there.

"You've been busy," she said casually, her voice smooth. "Making friends?"

You barely glanced at her, smiling as you stacked your books in your arms. "Yeah, everyone here's really nice. It's been fun."

Cairo's fingers tapped against the edge of your locker door, her posture relaxed, but there was something sharp in her gaze. "You've got a lot of people's attention," she added, her voice carrying a faint edge, almost teasing, like she was sharing a secret.

But you didn't pick up on it, just continued gathering your books, flashing her that friendly grin she was starting to hate. "I guess so. I just like meeting new people."

She gave a small laugh, a flicker of frustration flashing through her eyes. Was that all it was to you? Meeting new people?

"I don't usually let just anyone into my circle, you know," she said, her tone light, but the hint of something more serious was there, just beneath the surface.

You shrugged, seeming to miss the point entirely. "That's cool. Everyone needs their space sometimes."

Cairo's smile tightened, just slightly. You weren't supposed to treat her like this—like she was just someone else in the crowd.

She wasn't used to dropping hints that went unnoticed, her usual strategies failing to catch your eye the way they did with everyone else. But there you were, treating her like a casual acquaintance, and it drove her crazy.

But she didn't let it show. She wasn't about to throw away her cool, not yet. Cairo always got what she wanted, and while you were making her work for it, she wasn't about to let you slip through her fingers. Not when she knew, deep down, that she was different.

You weren't cowering, you weren't melting into her hands, and it was starting to make her want to prove herself even more.

She wasn't used to it—feeling like she was chasing someone for attention. Normally, people flocked to her, desperate for even a sliver of her approval. But with you, it was different.

You didn't need her, and that was something she wasn't sure she knew how to handle.

But Cairo wasn't going to let that stop her. If she couldn't bend you to her will immediately, she'd find another way. Because in the end, she always got what she wanted.

And right now, what she wanted was you.

And one way or another, you'd see it too.

Although it took longer than she had anticipated.

Cairo couldn't even begin to admit it—not to you, not to herself.

The pull toward you was undeniable, slowly slipping past her walls, making her do things that were beneath her usual pride.

Things like asking for help. Her, of all people, needing someone else? It was almost laughable.

Yet, here she was, waiting in the hallway after class, her stomach twisting in unfamiliar knots, even as she forced that signature smirk onto her lips—the one she knew could get her anything. Anything, except maybe you.

It was after the last bell of the day, the hallways still buzzing with students grabbing their stuff and making plans for the weekend. You were at your locker, sorting through your books when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Hey, Y/N," Cairo said, her tone as smooth as always, cutting through the noise around you.

You turned to see her leaning against the lockers, her usual confident smirk in place. "You think you could help me with that English assignment Mr. Miller gave us?"

You didn't think twice, returning her look with the same warm smile you always gave her. "Yeah, sure. When do you want to get together?"

The casual buzz of students chatting and lockers slamming continued around you, but Cairo's focus stayed locked on you, her expression cool as if she had all the time in the world.

That simple, unbothered answer made Cairo's chest tighten in a way she hadn't expected.

You didn't know.

You had no idea that Cairo didn't actually need help.

She was the top student—well, she had been until you showed up. Now she was fighting for her place at the top, something she never had to do before. And she hated it. But she wanted this. She wanted you.

Everyone who knew Cairo would've raised an eyebrow at the request. She had history with Mr. Miller, and all it took was one well-timed request for an A to appear in her gradebook. But this time, Cairo wasn't interested in the grade. She wasn't interested in winning over Mr. Miller.

She was interested in you.

When she arrived at your place later that evening, the sight of you waiting on the porch felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

You looked even better—relaxed, confident, more like yourself. Your hair fell effortlessly over your shoulders, and the casual way you leaned against the railing made her stomach flip.

She didn't understand this feeling. It wasn't like her to be knocked off balance. Cairo was always the one in control, the one with people tripping over themselves for her attention.

But now, she was the one who wanted your attention.

"Hey," you greeted her with a casual smile, holding the door open. "Glad you made it. Wanna head up?"

Cairo nodded, trying to mask the sudden rush of nerves that came with stepping into your space.

Your house was warm and inviting, a little messy but in a lived-in, comfortable way. It felt like you—authentic, with no need to impress anyone.

The smell of dinner still lingered in the air, and the faint hum of music from a room down the hall made it feel all cozy.

You led her to your room, where textbooks and notes were already spread out on your desk. You jumped right into the assignment, eager to help, as always.

But Cairo wasn't paying attention to the pages in front of her. She couldn't focus. All she could see was you—the way your lips moved when you explained something, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about an idea.

The worst part was how kind you were. It was maddening. You treated her like anyone else, not the untouchable, intimidating Cairo Sweet. And somehow, that made her want you more.

As you sat next to her on the bed, pointing out sections of the text, your knee brushed against hers. It was a small touch, insignificant to you, but it sent a jolt through Cairo's body. Her pulse quickened, heat rising in her cheeks, and she hated it—hated how out of control she felt around you.

But even more than that, she hated how much she liked it.

You leaned in closer to show her a note you'd written, and your breath was warm against her skin.

She barely registered the words you were saying. All she could focus on was the way you smelled, the warmth of your body next to hers, and the soft brush of your hand as you passed the paper back and forth.

She wasn't used to feeling this way—this fluttering in her stomach, the racing heartbeat that accompanied every one of your smiles.

You were turning her on, plain and simple. Cairo wasn't used to being the one who got flustered, but there she was, chasing after your attention, craving every little bit of affection you gave without even realizing it.

And it wasn't just about how hot you were, though that was undeniable. It was the way you treated her like she was just another person—no special treatment, no fear or awe in your eyes. You treated her like a friend, and somehow, that drove her insane.

For the first time, Cairo felt like she was the one chasing after something, and she hated the feeling.

Yet she needed to be closer, to figure out why you made her feel this way—why you made her feel so out of control.

But you were all she could think about.

Even days after the study session, it was still there—on repeat in her mind. Every smile, every move you made. She couldn't stop thinking about you, no matter how much she tried. It was getting under her skin, and she hated it.

Like now, when Cairo sat on the edge of her bed, tapping ash off her cigarette into the dish beside her.

The smoke curled around her, thick and slow, as she took another drag, frustration bubbling in her chest. Ever since that night, she couldn't get you out of her head, and it was starting to piss her off.

From her spot in the corner, Winnie watched, an amused grin tugging at her lips. "You're still thinking about her, aren't you?"

Cairo shot her a sharp glare, but Winnie didn't back down. Of course she didn't; she never did.

"I'm not thinking about her," Cairo said, though the way her words rushed out betrayed her. "I just don't get it. I don't need to think about anyone. People think about me. That's how it works."

Winnie raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying it. "Uh-huh. So why are you pacing around your room, smokin' like it's the end of the world? You've been talking about her nonstop."

"I'm not pacing," Cairo snapped, even though she had been standing and moving restlessly just a moment ago. She sat back down quickly, as if to prove a point. "And I'm not talking about her."

Winnie just chuckled. "Right. You're totally not obsessed with her or anything. Must be why you asked her to help with your English assignment—because you suddenly forgot how to ace essays."

Cairo scowled, taking another drag before blowing the smoke out through her nose. "I didn't forget anything. I just wanted to see what she had to offer. You know, test the competition."

"Oh, totally. You're all about fair competition," Winnie teased, leaning back with her arms crossed. "Except you've always been top dog, Cairo. Why do you care?"

Cairo stood up again, too worked up to sit still, pacing back and forth as she waved her cigarette in the air. "I don't care! That's the point! She's just this—this girl, right? She's new, she's hot, I get it. But so what? So am I. If I wanted her, trust me, Winnie, I'd get her without even trying. It's not like she's some unattainable goddess. I mean, seriously, she's just... just... friendly!"

Winnie snorted. "Oh no, not the deadly sin of friendliness."

"I'm serious!" Cairo shot back. "It's infuriating! She's nice to everyone, and it's like she's not even trying to get on my radar. She doesn't... she doesn't treat me like. You know. Do you know how weird that is for me, Winnie? She just smiles and moves on like it's nothing. And I'm supposed to be okay with that?"

Winnie grinned, clearly enjoying Cairo's meltdown. "Sounds like you want her attention real bad."

"No!" Cairo's voice rose in frustration, and she jabbed her cigarette in the air to punctuate her point. "I don't! I just—if I wanted her attention, she'd give it to me. Trust me, I've done it a hundred times before. But it's like... I don't know. I don't need her to fawn over me, but she should at least... notice me more."

"Sure. Because that totally doesn't sound like you're into her or anything," Winnie said, leaning forward with a knowing look. "You're just mad because she doesn't act like your little fan club."

Cairo groaned, dropping back onto her bed. "I'm not into her, Winnie! God, I can't believe you're even suggesting that. She's cute, I'll give you that, but that's it. That's all it is."

"You sure about that? You've been talking about her for the last 20 minutes."

Cairo waved her off. "I'm venting! That's different. I just don't get how she can walk around acting like I'm no big deal. Like, I could snap my fingers and—"

"—and what, Cairo?" Winnie cut her off, smirking. "You can't force her to like you. And let's be real, you wouldn't even have to try this hard if you didn't care so much."

Cairo took one last drag, stubbing the cigarette out in the dish, her eyes narrowing. "I'm telling you, if I wanted her, I'd have her. She's not some puzzle I can't figure out. It's just... a challenge. That's all."

Winnie shook her head, laughing softly. "Keep telling yourself that."

But even as Cairo tried to convince herself—and Winnie—that she didn't care, deep down, there was that gnawing feeling. The one that made her think of you just a little too often, the one that made her wonder why your smile lingered in her mind long after you were gone.

The next morning, Cairo stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection with a level of concentration she wasn't used to.

She had always been effortless—never needing to try when it came to her looks. But now, she cared. A lot more than she wanted to admit.

The black skirt she chose hugged her hips perfectly, the tiny stripes adding just enough detail to keep it interesting. She paired it with a white shirt, left a little loose, and she made the deliberate decision to go braless underneath.

Just in case you noticed.

Her jean jacket hung over her shoulders, completing the look. It was casual but... intentional. And she hated that she was doing this. But at the same time, she didn't stop.

Winnie stood in the doorway, watching Cairo with an amused smirk. "So... this is what it's come to, huh?"

Cairo shot her a warning glance, but Winnie just laughed. "What? I'm just saying. You've been in front of that mirror for the past twenty minutes, and now you're wearing a skirt? Since when do you care about impressing anyone?"

"I don't," Cairo muttered, brushing a hand through her hair, making sure it looked just the right amount of messy. "I just like this outfit, that's all."

Winnie stepped into the room, folding her arms as she watched Cairo fuss over the details. "Sure, sure. And the whole 'no bra' thing? Totally for comfort, right?"

Cairo's eyes flickered toward Winnie in the mirror, a small frown tugging at her lips. "What's your point?"

"My point is," Winnie said with a grin, "you've never dressed like this for anyone. You're trying to impress her. It's obvious."

Cairo scoffed, straightening up. "I'm not trying to impress anyone, least of all her. I just like looking good. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Winnie teased, leaning against the dresser. "Except you've always looked good without even trying, and now... you're trying. Hard."

Cairo didn't respond, choosing instead to grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Winnie shook her head, still smirking. "Right. Well, good luck with your 'I don't care' look. But if I didn't know better, I'd say you're hoping she notices."

Cairo rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small flare of nerves twisting in her stomach.

She hated that Winnie was right. She was hoping you'd notice. Every time she saw you, your outfits amazed her. Whether it was something casual or a bit more dressed up, you always looked effortlessly put together. It drove her insane how you could look so good without even trying.

And now here she was, doing the exact same thing—hoping her choice of clothes might catch your eye, maybe make you see her in a different light. She was Cairo Sweet, after all. People noticed her. You were supposed to notice her.

As she left the house, Winnie's laughter echoed behind her, but Cairo shook it off. She wasn't doing this for anyone. Especially not you.

But when she saw you that day, dressed in your usual impeccable style, her heart skipped a beat. You looked perfect, as always. And despite her best efforts to play it cool, she couldn't help but wonder if you noticed her, too.

As the day progressed, Cairo tried to play it cool, but the nervous energy buzzed through her.

Each time she caught sight of you in the hall, laughter bubbling around you, she felt that familiar flutter in her stomach. Today, you looked particularly stunning, and it made her second-guess everything.

Finally, at lunch, she found herself sitting across from you, her heart racing as you casually chatted with friends. She watched you, captivated by the way you effortlessly engaged everyone around you. It was infuriating and exhilarating all at once.

"Hey," you said, turning your attention to her. "Nice outfit."

Cairo's breath caught, and for a moment, she felt the world around them fade. "Thank you," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. The compliment, though simple, sent a rush through her, igniting that gnawing feeling in her chest.

You smiled at her, and something inside Cairo shifted. Maybe she wasn't just another face in the crowd to you. Maybe there was something more there—something she had been too scared to acknowledge until now.

As lunch continued, the laughter and chatter faded into the background. Cairo found herself lost in the moment, caught between wanting to impress you and the fear of showing too much. But as you engaged her in conversation, your eyes sparkling with interest, she felt a sense of hope blooming within her.

For the first time, she allowed herself to think that maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something special. Something that went beyond manipulation and appearances. Something real.

And in that moment, as you smiled at her, Cairo knew she was willing to take that risk.

[ch0llies]

SWEET BUT PSYCHO | MATTHEW STURNIOLO

oneshot - insane!reader x matt

Your love with Matt Sturniolo isn’t just intense- it’s destructive. You push him until he snaps. He controls you until you break. It’s toxic. It’s addictive. And it’s inevitable. Because neither of you know how to stop. And neither of you want to.

story warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, choking, hair pulling, humiliation (if you squint), toxic relationship (teetering on the edge of abusive), psychical assault (kinda?), and just fucked up. If any of these topics upset you…don’t read!

word count: 7k

“Grab a cop gun kinda crazy, she’s poison but tasty and people say run don’t walk away.”

Everyone knew you were insane. It wasn’t a secret, and you sure as hell didn’t try to hide it. But how you ended up with him….that was the question no one dared to ask.

Matthew Sturniolo, a textbook normal student. He wasn’t the loudest in the room, didn’t have the highest GPA, and never fought for the spotlight. He played lacrosse, kept to himself, and floated through school overlooked by most.

So when you -the girl known for nothing pretty but her face- showed up hand-in-hand with him on the first day of freshman year, it was a cultural reset for everyone and even now, six years later and well into your sophomore year of college, your relationship (if that’s even what you want to call it) still left people questioning.

Because it wasn’t just love. It was war. It was swerving off the road and screaming at each other in parking lots, only to end up tangled together in the backseat minutes later. But the highs… the highs were impossible to leave.

You were toxic together. Everyone saw it. Everyone knew it. You both knew it.

“Tell me you don’t love it,” you taunted, standing in the middle of his dorm room, wearing the smirk that always drove him insane. “Tell me you don’t love this.”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he was debating whether to grab you or push you away. Maybe both. Probably both.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, voice tight, low.

You took a step closer, running a slow hand down his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded beneath your palm.

“And yet,” you whispered, tilting your head, “you’re still here.”

His fingers curled into fists, but he didn’t move.

That was the thing about Matthew Sturniolo. He played it safe with everything else in life like his grades, his friends, and his future. But when it came to you?

He threw himself into your fire every time.

Because love wasn’t supposed to feel this dangerous. But with you, it was the only way it ever felt real.

And you knew exactly how far you could push him. How to dig your nails under his skin, tear him open, and make him feel you. Because Matthew Sturniolo didn’t react the way most guys did. He didn’t throw you aside or run for the hills when you lost yourself to your insanity. No, he fought back.

He gritted his teeth, the muscle in his jaw twitching, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t tell you to stop.

You laughed, fingers still tracing his chest, voice syrupy sweet. “What’s wrong, baby?” You pouted, mocking. “Cat got your tongue?”

Matt exhaled sharply through his nose. His restraint was slipping. It always did.

It was like the first time in high school, when you showed up at his summer lacrosse practice, perched on the hood of his car in nothing but a bikini with a cigarette between your fingers. You didn’t even smoke, you just wanted to see what he would do.

The moment he spotted you, his entire demeanor darkened. His teammates noticed, too, murmuring about how he was whipped, how you had him wrapped around your little finger.

You’d just smiled when he stormed over.

“Since when do you-”

“Relax, Matty,” you’d purred, flicking the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it with your bare heel. “It’s just for show.”

His nostrils flared and eyes widen. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

You grinned, grabbing the collar of his jersey, pulling him closer, right there in the middle of the school parking lot.

“And yet,” you whispered, just like you did now, “you’re still here.”

That was the moment you knew you had him. That no matter how reckless, how insane you became- he’d never walk away.

And low and behold here you were, six years later standing in his dorm room, still playing the same game and waiting for him to say something.

A moment passed before he took your hand off his chest, distancing himself from you. “I’m not fuckin’ doing this with you tonight.” He said lowly but with a firm tone.

“Come on,” you taunted, stepping closer, your eyes gleaming, voice dripping venom. “Where’s that temper, Matty? Huh? Where’s the Matt I know?” You seeth as you raise your hand up to grab his face.

Finally, Matt’s hands shot out, grabbing your wrists mid-lift, his grip tight.

His chest was heaving, his fingers wrapped tight around your wrists, his eyes…fuck, his eyes were dark, stormy, unreadable.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t turned on by his aggression.

“Behave.” he rasped, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine. “Get ready. We’re going out tonight with the group. And you better be on your best fucking behavior.”

Your breathing was erratic. Your wrists flexed under his grip, but he didn’t let go. And you loved it.

Because this was when he was real. When he felt real. When you could see past that quiet, indifferent mask he wore for everyone else and see the parts of you that had seeped into his subconscious after all these years.

But he wasn’t always like that. He didn't use to fight back. You remember the exact moment— the last time he ever just sat there and took it was last year's winter break.

You’d been drinking again, of course. Not even at a party. It was just the two of you, sitting in his car, parked on some abandoned road outside of town, the snow falling in slow, lazy flakes.

You were laughing, drunk and sprawled out in the passenger seat, your head lolling against the window.

Matt wasn’t laughing. He was gripping the steering wheel too tight, staring out at nothing, his expression unreadable.

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” you slurred, rolling your head to look at him.

He exhaled slowly, but it wasn’t a sigh—it was something else. Something tense.

“You don’t know when to stop,” he muttered.

You grinned. “That’s what makes me fun.”

“No, Y/N,” he said, voice clipped. “That’s what makes you exhausting.”

Something inside you twisted, your stomach knotting, your chest tightening in a way that made you angry.

“Then leave,” you snapped, shifting in your seat to glare at him. “If I’m so exhausting, fucking leave.”

Matt clenched his jaw, his grip on the wheel tightening.

You laughed, sharp and cruel. “Oh, right. You can’t.” You tilted your head, mocking. “Because you love me.”

His entire body tensed.

And then, quietly- so quietly you almost didn’t hear it- he whispered, “I know. That’s the problem.”

Your stomach dropped.

Everything in you went still.

For the first time, Matthew Sturniolo had hurt you. Not with his hands, not with his silence, but with his words.

Because for the first time, he had admitted that loving you wasn’t worth it anymore.

And for the first time, you were scared.

So you did what you always did. You fought.

You shoved at his shoulder, you screamed at him, you said the most vicious things you could think of. Things meant to cut, to wound. Because if you were going to hurt, then so was he.

And for the first time, Matt had just taken it.

Didn’t fight back. Didn’t argue. Didn’t even look at you. He just sat there. Quiet. Resigned.

And then he’d whispered, “I can’t do this forever, Y/N.”

That night, he didn’t chase after you when you stumbled out of the car, disappearing into the snow.

After that night in the snow, things changed.

Not in the way they should have. One of you should've walked away and finally let go before you burned each other to the ground. But no, that would’ve been healthy. That would’ve been right. Instead, things only got worse.

You should have known it would happen eventually.

Matt had spent years holding himself back, reining himself in, trying to be the calm to your storm, the balance to your insanity.

But everyone has a breaking point.

And when Matthew Sturniolo finally snapped, he did it in a way that made even you pause.

You’d been in his dorm again, a month after the fight in his car. You were pacing and ranting, your voice sharp and cutting as you threw accusations like knives.

“You were with her again, weren’t you?”

Matt sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor. “I wasn’t with anyone, Y/N.”

“Liar.”

He exhaled sharply, his hand raking through his hair.

You didn’t even know why you were mad—he hadn’t done anything. But the way he was acting since that fight made you insane.

“You think you can just sit there and ignore me?” you snapped, stepping closer, standing between his legs, forcing him to look at you. “You think I won’t fucking make you?”

Nothing.

So you shoved his shoulder, your hands shaking with frustration.

“Say something, damn it!”

Still nothing.

“Why do you always do this?!” Your pulse was erratic, your vision narrowing, your breath short and ragged. “Fucking fight me, Matty!”

And then his head snapped up.

His eyes, usually guarded, were blazing. His jaw, usually locked in restraint, twitched with barely contained rage.

You had provoked him to fight you many times before, but he never did. Not until that day.

“You want a fight?” he seethed, voice low and dangerous, stepping forward, grabbing your neck and pushed you hard until your back hit the wall. “Fine you sick bitch. Let’s fucking fight.”

Then he grabbed your wrists, hard, pinning them above your head.

Your breath hitched.

He had never put his hands on you before. Not like this. He had never touched you in a way that was completely and utterly out of anger.

“Is this what you want?” he growled, his breath fanning against your face, his grip so tight it hurt. “You want me to lose control? You want me to be just as fucked up as you?”

You looked up at him, breathless, eyes wild. “Yes.”

Matt let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his grip unfathomably tight. “You’re fucking sick.”

Ever since then, Matt hasn’t held back. He’d never actually hit you. He would never want to hurt you. But he’d put you in your place and wouldn’t be gentle about it.

He should have left. You both should have. But you never did.

Because in between the fights, the destruction, the insanity, there were moments. Sweet moments. Because when it wasn’t war, it was heaven.

Like the time you had shown up at his dorm at three in the morning, your mascara smudged, your hands shaking, your knuckles split from throwing a punch at a girl who had been running her mouth at a party.

You hadn’t even knocked, just pushed the door open and stood there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you were about to collapse or explode.

Matt had just stared at you for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he had grabbed your hand, his fingers ghosting over your busted knuckles before pulling you inside.

He didn’t lecture you. Didn’t sigh in frustration or tell you to get your shit together.

He just cleaned you up, sat you down on his bed, took out his first-aid kit, and tended to your wounds with the kind of gentle touch that made your throat tighten.

You had watched him, your chest aching in a way that had nothing to do with pain.

“You’re not gonna ask what happened?” you had murmured.

He had shaken his head. “I don’t need to.”

And that was the thing about Matthew Sturniolo.

He never needed an explanation.

He just knew you.

Even when you were at your worst, your lowest, he still took care of you.

That night, he had let you stay, curling up beside you in bed, his arms wrapped tight around you, like he was holding you together.

You saw it in the little things.

The way his eyes softened when he watched you sleep. The way his fingers traced patterns on your back absentmindedly when you lay together, like he needed to be touching you.

The way he knew your favorite drink order without you ever telling him. The way he pulled you closer in his sleep, murmuring your name like a prayer.

The way he kissed your temple, your shoulder, your knuckles—soft, slow, reverent.

Like you weren’t just a storm he had been caught in. Like you were the only thing that had ever made him feel alive.

And to you, he was the same. He was the only person who knew you completely and loved you regardless.

It wasn’t the way he kissed you.Wasn’t the way he fought for you, defended you, ruined himself for you.

It was the way he stayed through everything.

Through the anger, the destruction, the insanity, he stayed.

And one night, after another fight, another round of screaming and pushing and war, you had broken down. Completely.

Sobbing, shaking, fists curled into his hoodie as you gasped out, “Why don’t you leave?”

And he had just held you. Had cupped your face, wiped your tears with his thumbs, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “Because I don’t know how to live without you.”

And that? That was the real problem. Because neither of you knew how to live without the other.

Matt was still breathing heavily, his eyes dark, his fingers twitching like he needed to do something—hit something, grab something, feel something.

And you?

You should have been afraid.

Because he wasn’t the same Matt from high school.

He was just like you now.

But instead of fear, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right.

Like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Like this was inevitable.

Because for all the destruction, for all the insanity-

There was love, too.

And that was why neither of you ever left.

Because at the end of the day, the chaos didn’t matter. The fights didn’t matter. The bruises, the screaming, the wreckage- none of it mattered.

Not when he looked at you like this.

Not when he still reached for you.

Not when you still let him.

Because love was supposed to be safe.

But with you two?

It never would be.

And neither of you would ever want it any other way.

And that’s why you’re in the bathroom right now, getting ready to go to the bar he told you to get ready for with his hand around your neck.

He barely looks at you when you step out of the bathroom, fixing your hair, smoothing down your shirt.

He’s still frustrated. You can feel it. The tension is there, the tightness in his shoulders, the sharp exhale through his nose as he runs a hand down his face. But he doesn’t say anything.

It’s supposed to be a normal night. Just drinks with friends, something light, something fun-for once.

And yet, you both know better.

Because normal never lasts long with you.

And it didn’t.

The bartender barely glances at Matt when he orders his drink, but when you ask for yours, he stops, leans forward, and gives you a once-over, his lips curling into something that makes your blood boil.

“Got ID?”

You blink, cocking your head. “What?”

The guy shrugs. “You look young.”

It’s not what he says. It’s how he says it. “You didn’t fucking card him?” You say, gesturing to Matt.

The bartender looks over at Matt. “He has tattoos and a beard. I’m not too worried. But you look young. So where’s the fuckin ID? There’s a line so hurry up or don’t have the drink.”

To you it felt like he’s not just checking your age—he’s testing you, like he doesn’t believe you belong here.

And Matt sees it before you even move.

The shift in your stance. The flicker of fire in your eyes. The way your fingers tighten around your glass.

“Y/N, don’t,” he murmurs beside you, already knowing.

But you never listen.

The drink in your hand flies first, splashing across the bartender’s face, dripping down his shirt. “You fucking crazy bitch!”

And that’s when the shove came-hard, sending him stumbling back into the shelves of liquor behind him.

Glasses shatter. Bottles crash to the floor. People gasp, turn, watch.

Matt is on you before you can do anything else. His hands wrap around your arms, yanking you back as the bartender recovers, already yelling, already calling for security.

“You’re out,” the bouncer says, barely giving you both a second to react before he’s waving Matt away, like he’s the handler and you’re the fucking problem.

Matt doesn’t fight him. He just hauls you outside, gripping you so tight you swear you can feel his pulse through his fingertips.

And you fight him too.

“Let me go!” you shriek, thrashing against his hold as he practically drags you down the sidewalk.

“Shut up,” he hisses, his fingers digging harder into your arms. “Do you ever fucking think?” He tugs you further down the street.

“You always do this,” Matt seethes, pacing, fists clenched, his jaw so tight it looks like he’s about to crack his teeth. “You push and push until something fucking breaks. That guy didn’t even do anything to you.”

“You’re really defending him?” you snap, pulling your arm away from him.

Matt exhales roughly, shoving his hands into his pockets, his whole body coiled with frustration. “I’m not defending him. I’m just saying you overreacted.”

You let out a sharp laugh, disbelieving. “Overreacted? He was a fucking asshole, Matt.”

“He asked for your ID.”

“No, he didn’t just ask for my ID. He looked me up and down like I was some high schooler trying to sneak into a club, and then-”

Matt cuts you off, shaking his head. “He was doing his job, Y/N. You’re the one who threw a drink in his face.”

Your hands curl into fists. “He called me a bitch.”

Matt groans loudly before yelling “Because you are one!”

That stops you cold.

Your entire body stills, a slow, sharp wave of silence settling between you.

Matt’s face drops immediately, like he knows that was the wrong thing to say, like he wants to take it back before it even settles in the air between you.

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Baby, I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did,” you cut in, voice eerily calm now. Dangerous. “You meant every fucking word.”

Matt sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not do this here?”

You open your mouth, ready to fire something venomous in return, but then—

A flicker of movement.

A slow-driving car.

Headlights flash across your face, illuminating both of you. A cop.

He’s patrolling the block, watching from a distance. Not interfering yet, but watching.

Matt sees him too. His shoulders square, his fingers twitch at his sides.

He knows where this is heading.

“You’re making a scene,” he mutters, voice lower now. A warning.

“So?” You tilt your head. “You embarrassed?”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” he growls, turning and stepping away, dragging both hands down his face like he’s physically stopping himself from making this worse.

That pisses you off.

You grab his hoodie, yanking him back toward you. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me.”

Matt whirls around, his jaw clenched. “Or what?” His voice rises, raw and frustrated. “What the fuck are you gonna do, huh?”

Your chest is heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You don’t get to fucking leave me!”

Matt lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I don’t get to? Jesus, Y/N, you’re insane.”

And then—

Before you can stop yourself.

Before you can think.

Your hand flies.

The slap cracks through the street, sharp and brutal.

Matt stumbles back a step, his hands flying up instinctively, his shock evident in the split second before his expression darkens.

That is when the cop steps out of the car.

“Hey!”

His voice is firm, authoritative, his hand already resting on his belt as he approaches. “What’s going on here?”

Matt immediately recovers, lifting his hands, shaking his head. “Nothing, officer. We’re just—”

“You were yelling then she slapped you,” the cop interrupts, eyes flicking between the two of you, assessing.

Matt exhales hard, pressing his fingers to his temples. “It’s fine.”

You were still vibrating with adrenaline, with recklessness, with the need to prove a fucking point.

So when the cop steps closer, when he rests his hand a little too close to the gun in his holster-

Your eyes flick to it.

And before you can even process the thought, you move.

Your fingers grab the handle.

Not enough to pull.

Not enough to do anything.

But enough to be a mistake.

The cop doesn’t notice.

But Matt does.

And he fucking loses it.

“Y/N!”

He yanks you back so hard you slam into his chest, his arm locking around you tight.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” he roars, his voice so loud it drowns out the entire street.

The cop’s hand twitches toward his radio. “If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to take you both to the station.”

“No! We’re fine, I promise.” Matt grips you tighter, shoving you behind him, his body a wall between you and the cop. “She’s just drunk.”

The cop hesitates. Scans Matt’s face. Looks for the lie.

Then, by some fucking miracle, he lets it go.

And when he drives off, when the flashing lights disappear down the street—

Matt turns to you, grabs your face in both hands, his fingers digging into your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands, his voice shaking.

You just grin, sharp and reckless.

Matt doesn’t say a word as he grabs your wrist and hauls you down the street, his grip iron-tight, his entire body vibrating with barely contained rage.

“Matt—”

“Shut up.” His voice is low, rough, a dangerous edge slicing through every syllable.

You barely keep up as he drags you toward campus, his pace relentless, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll try to run.

Not that you would.

You love this.

The way he’s unraveling. The way his control is snapping thread by thread.

By the time he shoves open the door to his dorm, the tension is suffocating.

And when he throws you inside, slamming the door shut behind him, you know you’ve fucking won.

Matt just stood across from you, fists clenched, his breathing ragged, his jaw so tight you could see the sharp cut of his features, almost like he was about to lose his fucking mind.

But now, staring at him, at the storm brewing behind his light eyes, you realized something.

He had already lost it.

“You don’t fucking think,” he finally muttered, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves.

You scoffed. “Here we fucking go.”

Matt’s eyes snapped to yours, furious. “You could have gotten arrested. You could have gotten shot, Y/N. Do you fucking understand that?*”

You rolled your eyes, taking a step closer, throwing your hands up. “Oh, please, I barely even touched the—”

Matt moved so fast you barely had time to react.

One second, you were standing there, and the next, he was in your face, his hand wrapping around your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he seethed, his fingers pressing into your skin. “This isn’t just another game, Y/N. That was stupid and you were acting like an attention whore.”

“I fucking hate you,” you whispered, your nails curling into the sleeves of his hoodie, your entire body thrumming with adrenaline.

Matt let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his fingers tightening around your jaw. “No, you don’t.”

Suddenly, his hands weren’t shoving you away- they were grabbing you, holding you in place, his breath hot against your face, his grip so tight around your neck it ached.

And god, some sick part of you felt relieved. Turned on, even.

So you reached down towards his crotch and slowly started to palm it, feeling his dick stir slightly.

Matt’s eyes flew down to where you touched him through his jeans and then back up at your face.

“God, are you seriously turned on right now?” he rasped, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine. “You’re sick in the fucking head. I’m not even surprised.”

Your breathing was erratic despite the restriction.

And you loved it.

“And yet,” you choked out, lips curling into something close to a smirk as you ran your fingernails so very gently over his semi hard dick. “you can’t stop, can you?”

Matt’s chest heaved, his eyes flickering with something dark, something desperate. “Shut the fuck up.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing the corner of his jaw, taunting. “Make me.”

And that? That was what finally fucking broke him.

His grip on your neck tightened, sure to bruise, as he pushed you back, your spine colliding against the wall, the breath knocked from your lungs. He took his hands off your neck, knocked your hand away from his crotch, and pinned your wrists against the wall.

But you didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to stop him. Because this wasn’t just anger. It was possession.

“You ruin everything,” Matt muttered, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath sharp, his fingers flexing around your wrists like he was still debating whether to shove you away or pull you closer.

“So fucking ruin me,” you taunted .

Matt dropped your wrists and yanked the collar of your hoodie, pulling you off the wall again and into him, his nose practically touching yours as his breathing came hard and fast.

Only a moment of eye contact passed before his mouth crashed against yours. And it was game over.

There was no hesitation, no doubt, no careful testing of boundaries—because there were none. There never had been. Not between you and Matt.

His hands were rough, grabbing your wrists so tight around your skin that you knew there would be bruises tomorrow.

You gasped into the kiss, but Matt didn’t give you a second to catch your breath. His tongue slid against yours, hot and desperate, demanding, like he was trying to claim you, ruin you, tear you apart from the inside out.

And maybe he was.

His teeth bit into your bottom lip, sharp enough to sting, and you whimpered, but not from pain—from need.

That sound must have done something to him because his grip on your wrists tightened even more, his body pressing flush against yours, completely trapping you between the wall and the overwhelming heat of him.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled against your lips, his voice so low and raw it sent a shiver down your spine.

Good,” you taunt, arching up against him, your breath ragged, daring him. “Maybe now you finally fucking get me.”

Matt laughs lowly, his hands already moving, already gripping, already taking. “I will never get you.”

Before you can snap back, before you can push him further, he moves.

His hands are grabbing the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head in one swift motion before tossing it somewhere behind him.

“Off,” he orders, his fingers already undoing the button of your jeans, forcing them down along with your underwear, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you fucking bare for me.”

Your pulse hammers, your body on fire under his touch, but Matt doesn’t give you time to process and he absolutely doesn’t ask again.

His hands slide under the fabric, gripping, pulling, stripping you down piece by piece.

And then he pulls back just slightly, just enough to look at your completely naked body, his eyes burning, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling hard.

“So perfect,” he mutters, mostly to himself, his fingers trailing over newly exposed skin.

But you don’t want him just looking.

With a sharp breath, you reach for him, your hands tugging at the fabric of his hoodie, trying to rip it off, but Matt grabs your wrists mid-motion, holding them down.

“You don’t get to fucking touch me until I say so,” he growls, his grip tight, his breath shaky with restraint.

You let out a frustrated sound, your body burning, but Matt just smirks before finally letting go, grabbing the back of his hoodie and ripping it off.

Your breath catches as he strips off the rest of his own clothes, leaving him completely naked.

And then he’s on you again, his body pressing hard against yours, his hands grabbing your thighs as he threw you onto the bed. You let out a sharp gasp as your back hit the mattress, barely able to process before he was on you, his weight pinning you down, his fingers wrapping around your throat.

And fuck, the pressure- It wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t teasing. It was dominance, raw and unfiltered, his grip so firm that it sent a rush of dizzying heat straight through your body.

Your hands flew up to grab his wrist, but not to stop him—to encourage him.

His grip tightened.

“Breathe for me,” he murmured, his other hand playing with and dragging over your peaked nipples. “Come on, let’s hear that big fucking mouth.”

Your head spun, vision tunneling slightly, your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Matt- ” your voice came out strangled, and the second he saw that dazed, needy look in your eyes, he grinned.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, leaning down, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn’t even answer- not with his hand cutting off your airflow, your entire body thrumming with fire.

But he knew.

He could see it.

And fuck, he loved it too.

His grip eased just enough to let you drag in one desperate breath, your nails digging into his arms.

And then he kisses you again before you could even catch your breath.

Because this wasn’t just about winning anymore.

It was about ruining each other completely.

And neither of you would ever stop.

His lips were everywhere, dragging over your jaw, down the column of your throat, over both your nipples, biting at the skin just beneath your ear, sharp enough to make you gasp.

Matt’s hand was still wrapped around your throat, keeping you pinned, keeping you helpless beneath him, but you wanted it. Needed it.

“You love this,” he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with something almost mocking. “You love pushing me until I fucking snap, huh?”

You grinned, pushing yourself up to grind on his lower abdomen that was laying between your legs. “Why don’t you fuck me till I snap then.”

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening for just a second—just long enough to make your vision blur at the edges, make your body thrill from the sensation—before he let go completely, shoving your wrists down into the mattress instead.

“Fuck you?” Matt growled, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you down as his mouth crashed onto yours again.

The kiss was bruising—teeth clashing, tongues sliding, so fucking desperate it almost felt violent.

Your body arched, thighs reaching around and tightening around his waist, trying to pull him closer, take even more of him, but Matt wasn’t giving you any control.

“No,” he muttered, shoving your hands harder into the mattress, dragging his teeth over your lip as he pulled back. “You don’t get to fucking take right now. You’re gonna take what I give you.”

The words shot straight through you, sending a pulse of heat down your spine, making you wrap your thighs tightly around his waist and arch your back up, desperate to make contact.

But he didn’t move, even after feeling your wet cunt slide up the underside of his throbbing cock. Didn’t give you anything until you begged for it.

“Matt-”

“Say it,” he murmured, dragging his lips down your jaw, over the marks he had already left there. “Say you fucking need me.”

You let out a ragged breath, your entire body thrumming, still rocking against the underside of his erection. “I fucking hate you.”

Matt laughs. “No, you don’t.”

And then he flips you over. Roughly.

Your breath hitches as your stomach hits the mattress, your pulse hammering as his hands yank your hips back against him and you feel his cock between your thighs.

“This what you wanted?” he mutters, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck, his fingers digging into your waist. “Wanted me to fucking break for you?”

“You already did,” you shoot back, tilting your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Matt’s fingers flex, his grip tight—like he wants to control you, like he needs to, like he’s not just holding you down, he’s claiming you.

“Yeah?” he rasps, leaning in, dragging his teeth over your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to make you shudder. “Then let’s see how bad I can get.”

His hand moves before you can react—sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades, forcing you deeper into the mattress, pinning you there.

With your ass in the air and your back arched, his tip makes contact with your clit and you let out a whimper, attempting to sit up.

“Stay the fuck down,” he orders, shoving you back. “You want to be a fucking problem all the time? Deal with the consequences.”

You whimper again, your fingers gripping the sheets, but Matt doesn’t give you a second to process before his hand wraps around your throat from behind, tilting your head back just enough for his breath to skim over your ear.

“This is what you wanted, right?” His grip tightens for a split second- just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, to make your heart race so fast you swear he can feel it beneath his palm.

“Yes,” you gasp, voice breathy, strained, desperate.

Matt groans, his fingers digging into your skin, owning every inch of you. “So quit whining and take it like the good girl I know you can be for me.”

Your breath catches, your entire body thrumming with anticipation, but Matt—Matt is in no fucking rush. No, he’s taunting you.

He knows how bad you want it. Knows how wrecked you are beneath him. Knows that with every passing second, you’re finally the one breaking further under his touch.

And he’s loving every second of it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low, mocking, his fingers trailing over your hip, skimming the places you need him the most but refusing to give in just yet. “You act like you run this shit, but right now? You’re fucking helpless for me.”

Your fingers grip the sheets, your body arching, a whimper slipping from your lips again and Matt just grins.

“So fucking desperate,” he mutters, his teeth grazing your pulse, his hands spreading your thighs wider, his touch possessive, commanding. “You need me to take care of you that bad, huh?”

You nod, too breathless to speak, but Matt tuts, his fingers tightening on your hips. “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes,” you rasp, your nails biting into his arms. “Please, Matt-”

“That’s better,” he murmurs, his tone dark, dangerous, sending a sharp thrill through your spine.

With a single deliberate shift of his hips, he pushes his tip inside your soaked hole. But it was a slow, tormenting press forward- just enough to make you feel it, just enough to have your entire body tensing, your breath hitching in a sharp gasp but not enough to satisfy you.

“Fuck,” Matt groans, his head dropping, his fingers digging into your love handles like he’s trying to anchor himself. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your hands fly to his hips and ass behind you, trying to push him further into you, but Matt grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back again.

He breathes heavy behind you, his lips brushing against your ear. “You take what I fucking give you, remember?”

Your breath stutters, your entire body shaking beneath him. “Matt, please—”

“Fucking pathetic,” he mutters, his grip tightening, his tone laced with something cruel, something twistedly affectionate. “But you beg so fucking pretty for me.”

With one sharp, forceful movement, he fills you completely, pushing deep, claiming you in every way imaginable.

A strangled, shattered sound rips from your throat, your fingers clawing at his hands holding them, your entire body arching beneath him.

Matt groans lowly and the sound has you clenching around him already. “Fuuuckk, don’t do that,” he moans.

You simply smirk, trying to regain some control by clenching around him again and starting to move your hips back and forth on him.

The second he realizes that he’s subconsciously submitting to you, even with your hands pinned beneath him, he snaps back into reality.

Matt then manhandles you like you weigh nothing, shifting his grip, releasing your hands from behind your back and dragging his up and down your body.

Your breath stutters, your body thrumming with anticipation, every nerve on fire from the way he’s handling you.

But he still hasn’t moved yet.

“Matt-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he cuts you off, gripping your jaw, forcing you to turn your head to the side, to look at him. His eyes are wild, dark, unhinged. “You don’t get to fucking speak until I tell you to.”

Your lips part, a sharp inhale dragging through your lungs, your entire body burning from his words, his grip, his control.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he mutters and smirks because he knows.

He knows you’re gone.

He knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“See?” he mutters, gripping your jaw tighter, tilting your head back even more, making sure you feel his control. “You act so fucking tough, but all it takes is me putting you in your fucking place, and you’re already breaking for me.”

You let out a strangled noise, half a gasp, half a moan, but he just chuckles, low and cruel.

“You love this,” he continues, dragging his teeth over the shell of your ear and dropping his hand to your neck, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Love when I’m rough with you. Love when I don’t let you fucking breathe until I say so.”

His grip tightens on your throat for emphasis, cutting off just enough airflow to make your vision blur, to make your entire body thrill from the overwhelming sensation.

He watches the way your body trembles beneath him. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re powerless.”

Your nails dig into the sheets, your breath stuttering, your thighs shaking beneath his grip.

“Matt, please-”

“I didn’t fucking tell you to talk,” he growls, his free hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking it back, forcing your head to tilt, baring your throat to him.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your body arching, completely surrendering to his control.

Matt leans down again, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, dragging his tongue over the bruises he’s already left behind, making sure you feel every inch of his possession.

“You look so pretty when you’re powerless,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low, mocking, dangerous. “I should keep you like this all the fucking time.”*

Then, finally, he pulls out and with a sharp, forceful roll of his hips, he pushes himself back in. Your entire body shudders, your fingers clawing at the sheets.

“Fucking hell,” Matt groans, his grip on your neck dropping to your waist, his other hand tight in your hair, controlling every bit of your movement. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You let out a pornographic moan, your thighs trembling already. your breath was coming in sharp gasps, and Matt just laughs at you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, picking up his pace, his movements hard, deep, and so unrelenting. “I’ve barely even started.”

Your hands reach back for him, trying to grip something, trying to ground yourself, but Matt smacks them away. “No,” he breathes against your ear. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so.”

You whimper, your body burning, the desperation so overwhelming it’s almost unbearable. “Matt, please-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, slamming his hips into you harder, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as you nearly poke a hole through the sheets with your nail from grabbing them so hard. “Take what I fucking give you.”

Your mind is spinning, your body completely wrecked, the pressure already building in your core with every sharp, relentless movement.

“Keep sucking me in like that baby- fuck.” Matt mutters, dragging his lips down your spine as he keeps pushing into you, his hands gripping your hips so tight you know you’ll feel it tomorrow.

Your body shudders at his words, at the way he’s handling you, at the way he controls every inch of you like he owns it. Your fingers are trembling as they grip the sheets, your breath ragged, your mind and body so fucked out from how deep he’s pushing into you that you can barely process anything else.

But Matt is hasn’t faltered. Not even slightly. His pace is punishing, his rhythm sharp, precise, every movement designed to break you down, to make sure you feel everything, to make sure you remember who’s in control here.

“You’re so quiet now,” he taunts, voice dark, mocking, his fingers trailing down your spine, pressing into the curve of your back, forcing you deeper into the mattress. “Where’s all that fucking attitude, huh?”

You whimper, your thighs shaking beneath his grip, and Matt grins, knowing. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

His hand snakes up into your hair again, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp, to make your entire body arch beneath him.

His hips snapping against yours with perfect precision and your breath catches, the pleasure building, your body screaming for release, but Matt just laughs.

“You’re not fucking coming yet,” he mutters, shoving your head into the mattress. “Not until I fucking say so.”

You whimper, completely wrecked, completely his, and Matt knows it.

He groans, his rhythm stuttering just slightly, his fingers digging into your hips as his own pleasure builds. “You wanted me to ruin you? Then fucking break for me.”

You moan, your breath ragged, your entire body trembling from the intensity of it all. You can barely think, barely breathe, barely hold on as Matts ruts into you, his movements rough, dominant, and utterly consuming.

“I can feel you- fuck. I can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart.” he growls and his voice is slightly whinny. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

He hits the perfect spot, over and over, until your entire body shatters. Your back arches, your nails dig into the sheets, a strangled, wrecked moan ripping from your throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, so overwhelming it’s blinding, so intense it leaves you breathless.

“Fuuuuucccckkk” Matt moans, his voice raspy and his body starts shaking behind as he loses it right after you.

Matt’s head drops onto your shoulder, his breath ragged, his entire body tensing as he finally lets go, pleasure ripping through him in sharp, uncontrollable pulses. His grip on your hips is bruising, his fingers digging in as he twitches inside you, his body shaking behind you.

A strangled whimper leaves his lips as the aftershocks hit him, his muscles tensing, his rhythm faltering, his body jerking slightly from the overstimulation. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice wrecked, shaky, his forehead pressing into the curve of your neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You can feel the way he’s struggling- the way his body trembles, how his fingers clench involuntarily against your waist, like he’s trying to hold onto something solid as the sensation wrecks him.

“Matt-” you breathe, but before you can say anything else, he lets out a low, pained groan and pulls out, his body jerking at the loss of contact.

He collapses beside you, his eyes are half-lidded, his hair messy, his lips still parted from breathless gasps.

For a moment, neither of you say anything—just the sound of heavy breathing filling the room, your bodies still entwined, his hands still possessive on your skin, his lips still brushing against your shoulder.

And then, after a long, heavy pause Matt laughs.

Low, dark, satisfied.

And you?

You just grin, breathless, wrecked, completely ruined-

Because finally, finally, Matt Sturniolo is just as fucked up as you.

MASTERLIST

for my beloved: @mattsobvimyfav 💙

[zeroseuniverse]

You Are The Only Exception

Word Count: 1.0K Summary:It wasn't like you wanted his attention. In fact, you often rolled your eyes whenever he leaned against a doorway, smirk in place, tossing out lines so corny they belonged in a bad drama. But a tiny, stupid part of you noticed how he never flirted with you. Not once. Pairing: Wooyoung X reader

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You were convinced Jung Wooyoung was allergic to silence. He filled every room with his voice, every moment with some unnecessary quip, and every interaction with shameless flirting. It didn’t even matter who was on the receiving end—if they breathed, they were fair game.

Except, apparently, for you.

It wasn't like you wanted his attention. In fact, you often rolled your eyes whenever he leaned against a doorway, smirk in place, tossing out lines so corny they belonged in a bad drama. But a tiny, stupid part of you noticed how he never flirted with you. Not once.

It was infuriating.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, watching Wooyoung throw his arm around someone else, flashing that signature grin. “Oh god, is there anyone you don’t flirt with?”

He barely spared you a glance, his response smooth, immediate.

“Yeah, you.”

You blinked. He said it so casually, like it was a well-known fact. No teasing glint in his eyes, no sly smile meant to get a rise out of you. Just a matter-of-fact statement.

And that made it worse.

"Excuse me?" you scoffed, crossing your arms. "You flirt with literally everyone, but not me? What, am I unflirtable?"

Wooyoung finally turned to face you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, don't sound so offended. I thought you'd be grateful."

"Grateful?" you echoed, voice dripping with disbelief. "Why?"

He stepped closer, his usual playful energy dimmed just enough to make your breath hitch. "Because I actually like you."

Your stomach flipped. "That makes zero sense."

"It makes perfect sense." His voice dropped slightly, and you hated how easily it sent a shiver down your spine. "Flirting is fun when it doesn't mean anything. But you?" His eyes scanned your face, soft yet searching. "I can't play games with you."

For once, Wooyoung didn't look like the infuriating flirt who made your blood boil. He just looked… serious.

And you had no idea what to do with that.

Wooyoung’s words settled between you like a challenge.

You opened your mouth, ready to throw some sarcastic remark back at him, but nothing came out. For the first time, you were speechless. Jung Wooyoung, king of shameless flirting, actually liked you?

It had to be a joke.

"You’re messing with me," you accused, narrowing your eyes. "This is just some new tactic, isn’t it? Get me flustered so you can gloat about it later?"

His smirk twitched, but he didn’t look away. "If I wanted to mess with you, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?"

Annoyingly, he had a point. Wooyoung loved getting under your skin, but he never crossed a line—not really. Still, you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

"So what, you treat me differently because you like me?" you scoffed. "That’s stupid."

His lips curled into something between a grin and a grimace. "Trust me, no one’s more annoyed about it than I am."

You should’ve laughed, should’ve rolled your eyes and walked away. But instead, you were frozen in place, mind racing. Because as much as you and Wooyoung bickered, as much as he drove you insane, you couldn’t deny the way your pulse always picked up around him. The way you always noticed him.

Maybe you were just as stupid as he was.

"Okay," you said slowly, tilting your head. "Prove it."

His brows shot up. "What?"

"If you actually like me," you pressed, taking a step forward, "then prove it. No games. No flirting with anyone else. Just you and me."

For the first time ever, Wooyoung looked… nervous. His usual bravado wavered, just slightly, but enough for you to catch it.

"You’re serious?" he asked, voice softer now.

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

A beat passed. Then, in one swift motion, Wooyoung closed the space between you, his gaze flickering down to your lips before locking onto your eyes again.

"I’ve never been more serious about anything," he murmured.

And just like that, you were the one left breathless.

Wooyoung was close. Too close.

You could feel the warmth radiating from him, see the way his usual playful expression had melted into something unreadable. It was unnerving. Jung Wooyoung was never this quiet.

And yet, here he was—watching you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

"You asked me to prove it," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat went dry. You had definitely said that, but you hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously. Wooyoung thrived on teasing, on pushing buttons just to get a reaction. But this? This felt different.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay steady. "So? What’s stopping you?"

His lips quirked into a smirk, but there was something softer behind it. "Nothing."

And then, instead of kissing you like you half-expected him to, he pulled back.

You blinked. "That’s your big proof?"

Wooyoung chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

"Me?" you huffed. "You’re the one playing mind games!"

He leaned in again, close enough that you could see the flicker of mischief returning to his gaze. "I told you—this isn’t a game."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.

"One date," he said.

You blinked. "What?"

"Go on a date with me. One real, actual date. No bickering, no weird tension, no pretending you hate me when we both know you don’t." His voice dropped slightly. "Let me prove it."

Your heart stuttered. This was Wooyoung. The same Wooyoung who drove you insane, who lived to get a reaction out of you, who never once treated you like just another passing interest.

And that was the scariest part of all.

You exhaled, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. "Fine," you said, leveling him with a stare. "One date. But if you so much as flirt with anyone else—"

Wooyoung grinned. "You’ll break my nose?"

"Something like that."

His laughter was bright, unguarded. And for the first time, you realized just how easy it was to smile around him.

"Can’t wait, sweetheart," he said, voice dripping with satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes, but this time, you didn’t bother fighting the small, growing smile on your lips.

[lustytears]

i wanna turn you on.

loser!luke castellan x f!reader

summary: (title is inspired by the smashing pumpkins - today) luke castellan basically watches you from your cabin window and mutually (but not mutually) masturbates with you.

warnings: smut, luke is a bit weird. luke is giving virgin but that’s up to the reader honestly, reader gets sexualized by luke, written in mainly luke’s perspective but it does switch to the readers, masturbation, bathroom breaks (if you catch my drift from the previous tag), luke is a manipulative piece of shit but it’s very hard to know at first read.

You weren’t kidding when you had the sneaking suspicion that one had always been watching you. All of your darkest moments felt violated, invaded, or even threatened.

Maybe you thought wrong. That’s what everyone else thought when you confessed to your friends, saying that “Nobody would bother to try and watch you” or, “You’ll be fine. Camp’s safe.”

What you were unaware of was that Luke Castellan, the brave and noble leader who aspired many at camp for his dedicated devotion to his people and the gods.

Were you wrong to think otherwise?

•————————————————————————•

He was desperate. Desperate to understand you, feel you, and even taste you. His heart (as conveyed by those personal to him) was kind, logical, and even charming. He welcomed everyone who was unclaimed, and those who were claimed. The sweet little “heys” and the “hellos” are what people paid attention to. His demeanor and morality were nothing but pure.

You knew that for some reason, Luke had the right intentions. But for some part inside of you, something twisted his image into something so much more darker and malevolent.

He wasn’t dark, neither any of the things you thought. Contradicting, yes—but he couldn’t help but stare at you whenever you walked past, staring at the back of your body and sometimes your ass. He tried to snap out of it, tried so hard to keep his control, but he couldn’t help it.

He realized that you were his new obsession. Occasionally, Luke would sometimes go to the bathroom stalls to stroke his painfully rock-hard cock that leaked small beads of pre-cum, wiping onto his hand and leaking all over the base of his cock. His mind would drift to how your voice was maternally caring, sweet and dripping almost like nectar. Your lips and the way they would part open and close, rubbing them together against your pink-glossed lip gloss. The thought of the sticky consistency and shiny glow of your lips wrapped around the base of his cock as he steadily thrusted his cock hard and fast into your mouth like it was nothing but made for him would make him grip the top of the stall door.

Luke would try to feel disdained by these thoughts, try so desperately to think of other problems he had. But you were his only problem.

One day around Camp, he noticed how one of the Ares boys were sticking around you like you were some kind of fly trap. The boy would try and lift you up, slinging you over his shoulder like you were some prized possession.

“Put me down!” You laughed as you nudged your body, particularly your hips noticeable to both the boy that was carrying you and to Luke.

The Ares boy took notice of the sudden tension and put you down, before accidentally (but obviously, not totally) pushing your ass into his pelvic region when he grabbed your arms and pulled you back. You’d laugh, the impact of your ass in those little black shorts bouncing against his center drove Luke fucking insane.

Luke ended up getting one of the hardest boners ever to pain him, and he would occasionally watch your body move around, your hips swaying and the way your ass was barely fit into your outfit made him palm his cock, pretending to adjust his jeans.

On a dark night, Luke realized that you had the same routine. Specifically, it was your night routine. He didn’t expect to remember it, but he remembered one specific incident where he followed you to your cabin.

He watched as you opened the door and closed it, slamming it behind you in what may have been frustration. Then, he got the idea to get a closer look.

Luke inched near your window, crouching below the window pane just to see perfectly into the dimly visible light that instantly let him see into your own world. It was so wrong, but it was so worth knowing that the blinds were pulled up all the way, almost as if you personally wanted somebody to watch you like you were a product on display.

You walked around the room, his eyes following your every step, even when you sat down on the bed and looked through your dresser, going through the top drawer that contained your underwear and nightwear. Pulling out a black mesh nightgown, you got up and started to strip down to your bare and naked body. He carefully focused on how the t-shirt you wore hiked up above your amazingly flawless breasts. The way you pulled it off and threw it down to the bed caused the two of you to moan, unknowingly so. You seemed frustrated with something, but he was high as fuck on this moment.

His cock rubbed against the barriers holding him back, and it wasn’t getting better. When your thumb tucked underneath the waistband of your underwear and shorts, you pulled them down and off your legs. Your ass was visible for him to see, and he dared to peak his head up a little more to see how it motioned as you walked to your bed.

He expected you to put back on your nightgown, but he thought so, so fucking wrong. You flopped down your bed and pulled your legs up to show him how your pussy looked dripping wet. His mouth dropped, his hands going down to his pants and subconsciously unbuttoning them so he could stick his dick out through his boxers and thrust his half-erect cock into his fist.

But he didn’t want to touch himself just yet. He needed to see more. What more could you give? It didn’t make any sense, but it finally did when your long and slender fingers tucked under your weight, where you parted your cunt apart with two fingers in a ‘V’ shape. You moaned as the cold air hit your hot and wet pussy. Luke’s hands fumbled to pull his cock out, his eyes glued to the way you were now dipping your middle finger into your sopping wet hole. You pressed a finger into your gummy walls and started to create a rhythm along with your hips and your hand.

He rubbed the leaking pre-cum all over the tip of his cock, pretending like your thumb was doing so. He wrapped his palm around his dick and jerked himself up and down in a slow and deliberately painful manner. Your fingers moved to your clit and began to rub it in a circular motion, your lips all puffy and your eyes closed from the pleasure you were giving yourself. So much was going on for you that your back arched off the bed, and Luke’s cock was being fucked even faster from his own hand. He whined a bit louder, involuntarily thrusting into his own hand. The both of you could sense your own respective releases, and it wasn’t slowing down anytime sooner.

Luke would whisper his name to his own self, pretending like it was you who was calling it out through the muffled sounds of your moans inside of your cabin. Your legs twitched and two fingers were now deep and invasive inside of your tight cunt.

He hoarsely whispered to himself. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard all for you,” softly swearing as he could feel his own semen dripping out of his cock and lubricating his fist.

Your fingers worked harder, and your clit was getting rubbed to the point where it felt like it was numb for pleasure. You let out a steady and sharp moan, lifting your ass off of the mattress and pumping now three digits into your pretty and pink pussy. He watched you, all goggly and eyes wide like he’d miss one second of you. He couldn’t waste the opportunity to miss you cum.

Luke was now practically moaning and hyperventilating as he let out a sigh and came all over the place. Webs of white and hot cum coated his overstimulated cock and the fist of his hand. You followed along, cumming and tightening all around your fingers as you vocally expressed one of the best moans one could ever experience in an orgasm.

All tired and weak, your legs fell down against the bed as your swollen clit pulsated from such intensity.

With realization, Luke snapped his eyes down to see the mess he made just crouching below your window. He groaned, shaking his hand to get rid of some of the cum that was on his hand. His cock was now soft and finally pleased, so he tucked his cock right back into his boxers and pulled up his jeans, remaining low and among the bushes before he know it was safe to walk alone.

When Luke was approached by a wandering cabin mate, he’d just make an excuse.

“Couldn’t sleep. Had to kill time,” knowing damn well with a smile that you just solved his nightly frustrations.