#when you hear your friend talking about you behind your back but he only has nice things to say

[frombookstoretobookstore]

Hi! I absolutely love your Jack Abott fics!! You’d are a wonderful writer! I was wondering if you would consider doing a jealous Jack fic? 😁

Aw thank you! Of course! I've had one in the works since I put out a poll. Enjoy!

Jealousy Looks Good On You

Summary: Jealous Abbot is quite possessive and isn't afraid to show it at work, or in the elevator ;) T/W: Bit steamy, Abbot isn't afraid to touch what's his. Masterlist

“You keep that Abbot furrow up you’ll burst a blood vessel.” Robby laughs from where he’s leaned against the nurses’ station.

Jack doesn’t answer, his jaw creaks as his teeth grind together. He can feel the headache starting to form behind his eyes from where his gaze is trained on you. A growl almost forms in his chest when he watches your eyes sparkle as you laugh at what one of the cops says. He can feel his nails digging into his palm as his fists clench.

“Seriously, Abbot.” Robby knocks his shoulders against Jack’s, breaking him out of his trance. “What has gotten into you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack says as he turns to his friend, willing a smile to his face. It drops as soon as he hears you laugh again, his scowl back as he turns towards your direction.

“I see lover boy is at it again.” Dana scoffs, patting Jack’s shoulder as she walks past him to drop off her bag as her shift starts.

“Some days I think the only security we need is to protect some of these guys against Abbot.” Robby smirks at the glare Jack sends him.

“Abbot, she’s just talking, cool your jets!” Dana says harshly, causing Jack to look down at his shoes. 

Jack’s irritation peaks when he sees the cop touch your elbow, his vision pinpoints on the contact between the two of you. 

His feet move before his brain can stop them, carrying him across the room toward you. He can hear Robby’s voice calling after him, but it’s just background noise compared to the storm brewing in his chest. By the time he’s standing a few feet away, he notes the faint flush on your cheeks as you clock his movement.

“Just finished with a consult, sorry to keep you waiting.” His smile is predatory as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your hairline. His hands instinctively pull you into his side as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Anyway, let me know if you hear anything on it, I’m sure the rig will show up sometime.” Y/n waves as Jack is practically dragging her back to the nurses’ station, his only intent to pull you back unto his world, under his gaze and protection.

Dana snorts from behind her hand, clearly unimpressed with Jack’s attitude. He shoots her a look sharp enough to cut glass. You roll your eyes as even Robby is having to bite his lip to withhold his laughter.

“I guess we’re headed out.” Y/n says, raising her eyebrows in annoyance. She looks up to Jack who still has a hand on her waist. “Am I allowed to say goodbye or are you going to hulk out again?” He rolls his eyes with a huff; he leans back against the counter as you gather your things, his gaze sweeping across the room like a bodyguard looking for threats.

“He isn’t a man of sharing; the man covets peanut M&M’s like a kid at Halloween.” Robby laughs, rolling his eyes as he feels the bite of Jack’s gaze. 

Y/n barely has her things gathered before Jack is ushering them out of the ED; she calls out a parting goodbye as he stomps them out through the ambulance bay. He’s livid when he watches her shoot a sarcastic salute to the cop she had been talking to earlier.

Once out of ear shot, he winces as he feels her rally to call him out. “Jack, what the actual fuck?!”

“He was flirting with you.” He grunts, clearly still in full blown protective mode.

You grab his wrist to halt him, making him turn his broody gaze down to you. You burst out laughing at the dark look in his eyes that seems like it should be in a period drama, and not on your boyfriend’s face.

“Oh my god.” You blow out. “Are you fucking jealous because I talked to the cop about a boat rig, they’d had stolen last night?” He turns away stiffly and continues walking towards the direction of your apartment building, ignoring the laughter that almost has you doubled over.

“We were talking about the boat that was stolen from the police department parking lot, trailer and all, and you’re acting like some damn brooding period romance wannabe Jack!” He’s still ignoring you, trying to quicken his pace. Now that the initial jealousy has worn off, he’s slightly embarrassed by his behavior.

He’s holding the door for you to grab before he’s punching his keys into the lock on the front door of your apartment complex. His jaw is tight again, a muscle ticking. He can feel the triumphant smirk on your face you’re aiming at his back. 

He leans against the back wall of the elevator, his arms braced on the railing. You chuckle slightly as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor, your arms crossed as you shift your weight as you stand in front of him. You startle as you feel a sharp slap delivered to your ass by Jack.

You scoff and turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Excuse me?” you ask.

He crosses his arms and drops his eyes down to you and then back up to the screen to watch the floor numbers climb. “Mine.” He growls softly.

“Don’t start.” You warn, turning back around. You jump again as he places one last slap to your ass before brushing past you when the elevator doors start to open.

“Jack Abbot.” You scold, hustling after him, his dark chuckle echoing back to you from down the hall. He’s leaning against the apartment door, his gaze still dark, his arms crossed. You take probably a bit too long studying the veins as you walk up, enjoying the ways his muscles flex.

You eye him with an eyebrow raised and a shake of your head. You dig into your pockets to find your keys.

“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow am I.” You say as you push the door open, his gaze still heavy on you.

“Not if I can help it.” He says with a wicked smirk; his lips crashing into yours, his hand already possessively around your neck. 

“Jealousy looks really good on you.” You moan, chuckling softly at his lack of control as he pushes you across the threshold and into your apartment.

------------------------------------------------------ A/N: Slowly working through requests! Per usual I hope you and enjoy and lmk what y'all think!

[norrisradio]

SMALL TALK

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ “one night he wakes / strange look on his face / pauses, then says / “you’re my best friend” / and you knew what it was / he is in love” + “Morning, his place / burnt toast, Sunday / you keep his shirt / he keeps his word” - Taylor Swift, You Are In Love

ᝰ PAIRING: oscar piastri x reader | ᝰ WC: 1.7K ᝰ GENRE: strangers-to-friends-to-????, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and other disasters, oscar piastri is a man on a mission ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: my first time dabbling in some mixed media (feat. texts, voice notes, and facetimes)! not entirely happy with it but hopefully it makes sense // sorry for disappearing i am back now i swear ꨄ requested by @princesspiastri007 !

send me an ask for my line by line event .ᐟ

Oscar Piastri ruins your life in a bakery line on a Tuesday.

You’re clutching your paper cup like a lifeline, half-hypnotized by the scent of cardamom buns and the threadbare sweater slung over your frame — navy, elbow-patched, fraying at the seams. It was your dad’s. Maybe even his dad’s. Handed down like a secret. You only wear it on soft days. The kinds that ask for warmth and not much else.

Then someone knocks into you from behind, and the tea goes flying.

A sharp breath. The hiss of liquid on wool.

You freeze. He freezes.

“Shit — God, I’m so sorry.”

The voice is breathless and kind of pretty. You look up, prepared to launch into an eloquent string of swears, but the apology is already in his face. He looks young. Startled. Dimples carved into his cheeks like a question mark.  A lanky frame, messy hair, and a voice that sounds like Sunday morning. And behind him, some tall blonde girl in sunglasses (who you’ll later learn is Hattie, his sister) gives a wince-laugh and says, “Nice one, Oz.”

You look down. The sweater is ruined.

“That’s not just a sweater,” you whisper, throat tight. And somehow, that matters more than yelling.

The stranger — Oscar, apparently — blinks. “Wait — wait, is it special? Oh God. Please let me fix it.”

That’s how it starts: a burnt-sugar Tuesday and a ruined heirloom.

He buys you another tea. Apologizes twenty-seven times. Offers you his hoodie while you shiver on the bakery bench. It smells like laundry detergent and something citrusy, like a life that doesn’t belong to you. When you say he doesn’t need to do anything else, he frowns like you’ve insulted him.

“No. I swear — I’ll find a way to replace it.”

You scoff. “What, are you gonna time travel to the '80s?”

He grins. “Not quite. But I travel a lot. I’ll find one like it. You’ll see.”

It’s a joke. You think it’s a joke.

Until he’s in Spain two weeks later, and you get a photo of a sweater from a vintage shop in Barcelona:

from: +61 *** *** *** [Attachment: 1 Image] from: +61 *** *** *** Closer? Still hunting.

Then he’s in Canada. Silverstone. Budapest. Portugal.

from: +61 *** *** *** [Attachment: 1 Image - a blurry photo of a sweater, tagged €35 ] from: +61 *** *** *** Found a jumper in Lisbon. Not quite the right navy, but it has the elbow patches.

to: +61 *** *** *** you don’t have to keep doing this, yk 

from: +61 *** *** *** I know. I want to.

Each time, a picture. A patch. A different shade of blue. An “Almost.” 

You hadn’t expected it to become a thing.

You hadn’t expected him to become a thing.

But there’s a moment, three weeks later, when you're eating leftover curry on the floor of your apartment and your phone lights up with a voice memo. You hesitate. Press play.

Hey. I know it’s probably stupid but I found one in Tokyo today that kinda reminded me of the shape of yours. Didn’t get it though. The color was off. But I thought about you.

There’s a pause. You can hear wind. Traffic. And then:

Anyway. Just wanted to say hi.

You play it twice. Then a third time.

You don’t respond for an hour because you don’t know how to say, you’ve been living in my head since Tuesday.

The voice memos turn into calls. Almost by accident at first. One missed message becomes a call back, and before you know it, you’re dialing his number like muscle memory.

You start calling him after work, when the sky is the color of chamomile tea and the streets hum with the soft ache of winding down. He answers from hotel rooms, his voice low and warm, surrounded by the soft rustle of sheets or the faint murmur of unfamiliar cities outside his window. Sometimes you hear the buzz of neon. The clatter of luggage. The echo of a TV in the next room.

It becomes routine. Sacred, even. A ritual made of static and silence and shared space.

He listens when you talk about your family, about the sweater, about how you’ve always had trouble letting go of things that feel like home. Your voice goes soft when you tell him how your dad used to wear it on cold Sunday mornings, how it always smelled faintly of espresso and cedar. How you kept it on the back of your chair even after he passed.

There’s a pause.

And then: “That makes sense,” Oscar says, quiet enough that you almost miss it. “You feel... anchored. Even when everything else isn’t.”

You blink.

No one’s ever put it like that before.

You want to laugh. Or cry. Or tell him that he’s the first person in months who hasn’t made you feel like you’re too much. Too sentimental. Too attached to the past.

Instead, you murmur, “I like the sound of that.”

“Of what?”

“Being anchored.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his smile through the phone. That small, secret one you’ve learned to hear in the silence between words.

And when you hang up, well past midnight, your chest is full of something unfamiliar.

Melbourne - 00:42 / Sao Paulo - 11:42

Oscar’s face is sideways on your screen. He’s lying on a hotel bed, hair a mess, thumb under his cheek like he fell asleep on his own hand.

“I’ve seen twenty sweaters today,” he mumbles. “All of them were wrong.”

You smile, half-asleep yourself. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m determined.”

“Obsessed, maybe.”

He grins. “That too.”

There’s a long silence. Not awkward. Just full.

You whisper, “Why does it matter so much?”

He looks at you like he’s trying to read something written in a language only you speak.

“I think,” he says slowly, “because it mattered to you.”

Melbourne - 10:48 / Monza - 02:48

I found a vendor near the paddock today who hand-knits sweaters. Said she doesn’t repeat patterns but she can make something inspired by yours. I asked her how long it’d take. She said six months. I told her I’d wait.

There’s a long pause.

I don’t think this is about the sweater anymore. 

The FaceTimes start to stretch longer.  Past midnight. Into morning. Sometimes you wake up to a dead phone, his face still ghosting your dreams. He tells you what the gravel in Bahrain smells like. You tell him about your mother’s lasagna recipe. He starts sending you pictures of things that have nothing to do with sweaters.

The sea. His breakfast. A dog in the crowd with a bandana that says Team Oscar. His knees pressed up against the seat in a too-small plane.

You start recognizing hotel ceilings. The texture of his voice when he’s tired. The sound of his toothbrush.

You don’t talk about what it is. But you know.

You fall asleep with your phone tipped sideways, face half offscreen, mouth slack. Oscar snaps a screenshot once (you find it later in a photo dump he sends, sandwiched between two blurry shots of the Monza pitlane and one of a knitwear rack in Milan).

You’re in bed, face crinkled into your pillow.

from: +61 *** *** *** [Attachment: 4 Images] from: +61 *** *** *** I like this one best. 

Melbourne - 03:23 / Abu Dhabi 21:23

from: +61 *** *** *** You awake?

You blink at the screen, the dim glow of your phone painting soft light across your face.

You shouldn’t be awake. You weren’t. Not really.

to: +61 *** *** *** only if you need me to be 

from: +61 *** *** *** always. 

You stare at it for a beat too long. Something in your chest tightens.

No FaceTime this time. Just voice. Just the warmth of him spilling through the speaker like something secret.

“Hi,” he says, a little breathless. Like he’d been pacing. Like he still is.

“You okay?” you ask, voice scratchy with sleep.

A silence. Not heavy. Just full.

Then: “It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

Another pause, this one longer. Then he sighs, and it sounds like the beginning of a confession.

“I was at dinner. Team stuff. Everyone talking, laughing, and it was fine. It was good. But then I thought of something you said — about how your dad used to cut his toast diagonally, like it made it taste better.”

You laugh, soft. “Because it does.”

He smiles. You can hear it. But then his voice shifts. Warmer. Quieter.

“And I wanted to tell you. Just that. Just... share that moment with you. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to call. Even though it was nothing. Even though it was everything.”

Your fingers twist in the hem of your blanket. “Oscar-”

He exhales, quiet static against your cheek. “It just– it made me realize something.” 

You hear him shift again, maybe run a hand through his hair. When he speaks next, his voice is quieter. Barely above a whisper.

“I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he says it — it’s not casual. Not flippant. It lands somewhere low in your chest, blooming slow and steady.

You don’t answer right away.

Because the truth is, you already knew. You’d known for a while now, tucked in the space between time zones and half-laughed voicemails. In the way your day doesn’t feel finished until you’ve heard his voice.

Still, you make a soft sound into the receiver. “I know,” you say, because anything more might break it.

He breathes out a laugh. You can hear him relax, like he was bracing for something bigger.

“I should let you sleep.”

“You should.”

But neither of you hang up.

You don’t say anything else that night. Just let the silence stretch between you like soft thread, pulled taut. Your hand stays curled around the phone long after the call ends, thumb brushing the screen like it might still be warm from his voice. 

And later, when you’re making toast in his kitchen for the first time and burn it so badly the alarm goes off, you both laugh like idiots, wheezing and barefoot. 

You keep his hoodie. He lets you. You wear it when he’s gone. You send him a photo of it hanging beside the ruined sweater, like they’re twin relics of something that matters now. 

He keeps his word. 

He never finds the same sweater. 

But somehow, you stop minding.

Oscar can’t look at a knit sweater without thinking of you, and maybe that’s the best kind of curse—a soft one, stitched with love, pulling him home.

[lilliezzzzz-fics]

Cupid's Chokehold !

pairing: oscar piastri x male!rockstar!reader author's note: this idea has been in my mind 4 so long lol, reader is british in this. also! first smau so it might be shit lol. songs + artists in order: garbage truck by sex bob-omb, as seen on tv by my buddy eric, the love i lost by fried by fluoride, just by radiohead, boys dont cry by the cure, so long by james marriott + cupid's chokehold / breakfast in america by gym class heroes warnings: use of y/n, callbacks/mentions to a break up, talks about toxic relationships (briefly), mentions of drinking and alcohol, homophobic comments, thats it i think word count: 2.1k (including social media parts)

ynmusic streetlite officially out, performing in local pubs soon

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user481 LET'S FUCKING GO!!!

user481 wait WHAT THE FUCK SIR DID U GO THROUGH A BREAKUP??? WHY THE HELL IS TS SAD

↳ user044 STOP REAL like this is SOO a break up album 💔

↳ user228 ur joking im not ready to sob hello

↳ user044 damn uh how do we break this to you?

↳ user228 DONT SAY THAT

A beat-down, smoke-ridden pub wasn’t the place that Oscar expected to find himself in when Lando had invited him out to Britain. And yet, here he was—slouched at the end of a sticky bar counter, his head in his hands and muttering something about better tastes and being rich.

The lighting was uncomfortably weak, a broken neon sign buzzed in the corner of his eye, barely illuminating the peeling wallpaper surrounding him.

He glanced over to Lando, who in his opinion, looked far too comfortable—like the pub was a second home—his laugh already reeking of cheap booze.

“Mate,” Oscar sighed, shoulders sagging, “you’re actually serious about this place being good?”

At the sound of his friend's voice, Lando turned to face him, a crooked smile playing on his face. With a tilted head, and a grin like no other—he slung his arm around Oscars shoulder, pulling him into a one-armed (and one-sided) hug.

“It’s absolutely brilliant,” he drawled, already a little gone, “you’ve gotta see the performance—they’ve got a new guy singing tonight.”

Lando’s pitch wasn’t that convincing, what with his hiccuping, swaying state. Still, he stayed, muttering a dejected “alright”.

After a few moments, though, the lights in the bar dimmed, and other lights from an open area with a stage turned on. Red lights bled across the walls—glaringly bright at first—before dimming low enough for Oscar to make sense of the stage.

You stepped out in front of a small, still forming crowd, wearing a leather jacket perfectly fitted—tattoos crawling up your neck and twisting down your wrist—you looked every bit the rockstar.

The mic squealed as you leaned in, tapping it once with your finger.

“My name is Y/N,” you began—your voice rugged in just the right way, “and I’ll be performing my new album, Streetlite, for you all.”

Oscar spent the next fifteen or so minutes fully tuning out Lando’s slurred speech—eyes trained on you and only hearing the music that you played. A gritty, grunge-leaning setlist pulsed through the pub. He hated to say it, but Lando was right in making him stay.

He couldn’t deny the pang of disappointment washing over him as you took a bow, exiting off the stage, but begrudgingly he turned to look for Lando.

It seemed like his friend hadn’t paid the performance any attention—too focused on chatting to (or up, he wasn’t sure) the bartender serving him.

Oscar was too busy daydreaming to notice the sound of footsteps behind him, as well as the creak of a barstool when a man sat beside him.

“A Guinness, please.”  The man spoke, a familiar gravelly sound—one that Oscar recognized. He blinked, head twitching toward the sound.

There you were. Up close. The singer.

He whipped his head back around as quickly as he could muster, a dull feeling of dizziness following suit, then a warmth. Heat blooming at the tips of his ears—embarrassment, probably.

His brain felt like it was sizzling, and it had no reason to be. He wanted to limp away like a wounded animal in fear—because the man beside him scared him more than he should.

He’s just a man, Oscar told himself. You’re just a man too.

But when he turned to face you, cheeks flushed and heartbeat loud in his ears, that thought didn’t help much at all.

“You’re starin’ mate.” You spoke. Accent latching onto your words, and your eyes lingering elsewhere.

And when you spoke, oh Oscar would swear his heartbeat thrummed through every bone in his body. Fumbling, stuttering over his words—he apologised. Incoherent, awkward—an apology nonetheless.

“Sorry,” he croaks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

You laugh. Rough. But it carries a warmth that Oscar keeps in his chest. 

“There’s no need, was jus’ pointing it out,” You smiled, finger tracing the rim of your glass, “name’s Y/N—not sure if you were listening but it was me performing up there.”

“I was.” Oscar affirms far too quickly—which he only realises half-way through, “ah, uhm—you could call me Oscar.”

You repeat his name, softly—letting it play on your tongue as you speak it, “Oscar. Fits you.”

A silence stretches between the two of you as Oscar scrambles for something to say. His thoughts are a mess, so he settles for a half-hearted smile, cheeks tinged pink.

Then his phone buzzes.

Fishing it out of his pocket, he squints at the screen—Lando.

Sorry m8 i left w/o u LMSO. ill pay for ur uber tho, followed by a notification: money sent.

Oscar sighs, brows knitting together. He should’ve expected it—but that doesn’t stop the pang of irritation. Of course Lando had wandered off. Drunk bastard.

He shrinks into himself a little, already dreading the awkward solo trip back to the hotel. Damn it, Lando.

“You alright?” Your voice cuts through the moment, steady and low. You lean on your palm, eyes watching him with a curious kind of calm.

He turns to you, albeit a bit irritated, “My mate just left me. He’s my guide so it’s a bit—I dunno. Shit?”

Once again he lets out an annoyed groan, dragging his hands across his face then letting it drop into his palms.

“How ‘bout I buy you a consolation drink?”  You offered, this time your tone is a little softer. Then, adding on, “Besides, I wanted to buy you one anyway—if you want one, of course.”

In any normal circumstance Oscar would know better than to accept. However, a drink does sound good. So, against his better will, he accepts.

“Sure, yeah. A drink sounds good.” He nods, and you smile.

Conversation after that flows smoothly. Short sentences exchanged about your jobs, personal experiences, about everything that came to mind. You talk about how you juggle your day jobs with your pub gigs, and Oscar furrows his brow, bringing up your songs.

“So,” he starts, eyes flickering to his glass with a slight uncertainty, “Your album—it’s kind of all over the place. Like, at first I thought it was a love album but then… it turned kind of sad.”

You don’t answer right away and Oscar internally panics. He probably shouldn’t have asked—maybe the drinks were making him just a little too loose. Should he apologise?

“Well, initially it was a love album. Somewhat, anyway,” you paused, twirling your glass, “then me and him hit a rocky spot. Realised he was kind of a shit person—and I left. It kinda fucked me though. Coped a lot through my music, and I scrapped tons of songs.”

Silence settles between you, and the ambient pub noise suddenly feels too loud—cutlery clinking, laughter echoing from across the room. Oscar watches you, quiet. Patient.

There’s something unreadable in your eyes—appreciation, maybe. Or maybe it’s just the liquor. But you give him a small smile and keep going.

“So, it’s a relationship—the album, I mean. Going through a, toxic relationship for a lack of a better word.”

He hums, nodding slowly.

“It’s good.” He speaks, treading every word carefully, “you showed it well.”

You smile in return, stealing a glance towards a watch sitting on your wrist—then looking back up at him.

“It’s getting late. I’ll head out—but uhm,” quickly, you fumble a piece of paper out of your pocket, lending a pen from the bartender, writing something down.

“Here. I’ll talk to you another time. Have a good night.”

You give Oscar a wave, and a bell chimes as you leave the pub—with Oscar looking at the paper.

Your number. As well as a message: ‘text me later <3’

♬ Y/N ∙ Garbage Truck

liked by lando and others

oscarpiastri Win in Austria. Can’t complain

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user481 my worlds colliding… oscar posted to Y/N’s song 

↳ user091 idk who the artist is but this music is lwky fire 🔥

user119 P1 HELL YES

user001 LETS FUCKING GOOO

user671 so he listens to gay artists now??? and i fucking liked him too

(this comment has been deleted by the author)

user782 mega job mate!

user059 THIS IS WHY UR THE GOAT!!!

ynmusic m8 i think i recognise this guy

↳ user481 HOLY SHIT THEY'RE INTERACTING STAY CALM

The engines were loud, and so was the chatter amongst people in the McLaren garage—strategies floating around and bouncing between engineers—and honestly you felt like a black sheep in a herd. You grab a headset out of the hands of an engineer with a grateful smile, and quickly put it on—and the noise grows silent.

Of course, it’s not completely quiet—that’s nearly, if not completely, impossible with so much happening. Especially in a sport like this one, or at least you assumed so.  But now, at least, it’s filtered. Contained behind the layers of comms, buzzing static, and urgent voices murmuring to each other.

A clearer voice cuts through the static and interferes the team radio, interrupting your thoughts.

“Box this lap.” He speaks. You weren't sure of his name, but you knew that he was Oscar's engineer.

“Copy.”  This time it was Oscar's voice, calm, focused—incredibly different from how he was in the pub with flushed cheeks and a boyish smile.

It was like a stranger wearing his voice when he spoke, even if it was only one word. Tone clipped, precise, and unfamiliar to you. No longer the man who was fumbling with his words, but instead the trained athlete he is.

You watch the screen, a flash of orange (or papaya, as the internet, or the team itself insisted) flying past and pulling into the pits. Slowing down as it approaches you, he stays for merely a second before he once again pulls away to the track.

If you were being honest, you really had no clue on how it worked. Sure, a few things made sense, and you knew it was racing, but you had no idea of what it were beyond the surface. But when the McLaren car passed the red Ferrari one, and a few scattered cheers erupted, you couldn’t help but smile.

The rest of the race was smooth—the car you knew to look for keeping its place in first, no need for overtaking nor intense defending. Before you knew it, it passed the finish line and the entire garage erupted in loud, echoing celebrations.

Your heart beats in your chest. Hard, heavy—for no reason at all—or a reason you’re too afraid to admit. Heading out of the garage, and towards the car, you catch a glimpse of the man himself in between the engineers.

Hair and face drenched in sweat as he takes off his balaclava, he has a smile so sweet on his face as he jumps into the the gathering of McLaren staff. Face flushed as he steps back from the crowd—and for once second, just one second, he smiles at you. 

The next moment you see him he’s on top of the podium accepting a trophy that’s well deserved. Goofy music playing in the background, the other drivers grab the champagne bottles and spray each other—you can’t help but laugh at the sight. 

Interviews take place after the champagne spray, and then, finally, you see him walk towards you. Your heart skips a beat—maybe two—and when you’re face to face you can only give him a smirk.

“So much for, I drive cars, huh?” You tease, a warmth bubbling beneath the smirk on your face.

Oscar laughs a bit sheepishly, a hand reaching up to the back of his neck, “I mean, it’s not a lie,” he gives you a tilt of his head, “but maybe ‘I drive cars fast’ works better?”

You raise a brow, “Bit of an understatement, eh?”

He smiles again—more boyish, rather than bravado—and for a moment, for just a second, he looks like the boy from the pub again, with flushed cheeks and filled with something unsaid.

And god, the urge to kiss him bubbles up in your chest like a kettle ready to boil over. You let out a heavy exhale, smiling so brightly that you have nothing to say.

But he does.

“I have a question,” he asks—suddenly more serious, and you hum, his voice barely audible over the celebrations in the background, “go on a date with me? Not a shitty pub this time. Something proper.”

There’s a pause—a brief silence, the butterflies in your stomach and fuzz in your head overpowering your ability to mutter an answer.

You let out a breath—half laugh and half exhale—and nod.

“Yeah,” you stammer, giving him a stupid grin, “I’d like that.”

♬ Y/N ∙ Cupid’s Chokehold

liked by oscarpiastri, lando and others

ynmusic cupid’s chokehold out now. dedicated to the love of my life.

tagged: oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri ❤

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©lilliezzzzz-fics: please don't copy or distribute my work on any platform

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers <3

author's note again: sorry if this wasnt the greatest, still dont know if i like the look of the posts. hope u enjoyed it despite that! <33

[misskingshit]

Beauty and the Freak

summary: For every teenager at Hawkins High School, it was inexplicable why someone like you would approach a weirdo like Munson. Maybe he's threatening you.

note: I think I speak for everyone when I say that we will never get over Eddie. Not only is he hot, but he was so cute. God, I really hope he somehow magically returns in season 5. this is a lil long and smutty (no so much) and also, idk if this is trashy or not, but tonight I'm doing part 2 xoxo

"Okay, girls! It was a great practice. Don't forget to bring some ideas for a great finale. I'm open to hearing anything. Bye!" Cheerleading practice had ended, and it had gone better than you'd expected. A very important game was approaching, and everything had to go perfectly.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I know you hate talking about it, but Jason's already mad because Kaleb won't stop talking about you," Chrissy tells you. You let out the biggest sigh. "He's so annoying! I told him no 13 times…" You indignantly comment to your friend. "13 times! I counted! He's bordering on stalker." The two of you finish grabbing your bags and head out into the hallway. "This has to be a joke," you said, fed up. "It even looks like we summoned him. It's creepy," your friend looked at you with pity. Jason and Kaleb walked toward you. "I love how that uniform looks on you, baby," Jason said to Chrissy. You quickly fixed your cold gaze on the other boy; you really couldn't get rid of him. "Keep your comments to yourself, thanks." You put on a fake smile and continued walking. "Why are you acting like this? All I'm doing is trying to get you to even look at me." You stopped walking and turned around, ready to argue. There was no way he was going to come across as the victim here. "That's not my problem, I told you. You seemed super sweet the first few times, and I was even flattered," you said, widening your eyes. "But you're crossing a line. You don't accept rejection and you won't leave me alone. I don't like you! Go away!" And with that, you set off in search of your locker.

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

After so long, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived. The bell signaling the end of the school day. Excited, you ran to the exit and quickly headed to the back of the school. "Munson?" The newly minted man turned around and looked around, his face puzzled. He didn't understand what the cheerleading captain was doing looking for him, and even worse, how did she even know his last name? "Are you talking to me?" he asked. You simply nodded with a smile on your face. "Yeah, sorry to bother you, but… I was wondering, do you have something… you know?" His face changed, fully understanding what was happening. "Um, not really. Normally they have to let me know beforehand, I don't do that right away." "Oh, sure, I understand," you laughed nervously. "Sorry, this is my first time, I don't know how this works." He smiled tenderly. "Don't worry." You both shared glances, him smiling at your innocence and you at your nerves. Finally, he came around and pointed to his van behind him. "I have, you know, the green stuff at my house… if you want, you can come with me…" "Wow, you're fast, Munson," you laughed a little. "I-I'm not sorry, sorry, that's not what I meant, forget it." Eddie grew nervous at how strange his proposal had sounded. Although your answer sounded stranger to him. "I'll come," you said confidently, and headed to the passenger seat of the van. "What? Really?" He turned to look at you. "Yeah, why not?"

After processing what was happening for a few seconds, he simply climbed in next to you and started the van. "Don't worry, we'll get out the back." You looked at him, confused. You weren't exchanging anything, it wasn't anything unusual. "Oh, come on, the cheerleader, the most popular, the most beautiful girl in town. You don't want to be seen with me," he let out a sarcastic laugh, looking straight ahead. You were still smiling, but at the same time, you were frowning. "I couldn't care less. They're all idiots I'll never see again once school's out. I really don't care." You looked at the trees through the window. Eddie really couldn't believe it.

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

"So… this is my castle. I'm sorry it's so clean and tidy. I…" They both looked at each other and laughed. "It's cozy. At least you know someone lives here. In my house, there's rarely anyone with me. The decor is too simple, the rooms are too big, therefore, too cold, everything is too clean and perfect… it's sad." "Yeah… fuck it all," he sighed, looking up from the floor. "Fuck it all," you laughed. He led you to his room, which led to a roughly 40-minute conversation based on your questions about the guitar posters and him explaining each story in great detail. Until he finally gave you the thing you were really in his RV for. "Well, that's it, what you were looking for," he smiled at you. "Thank you so much," you put it in your bag. You weren't going to lie to yourself. You were really having a good time, you didn't want to leave. And it seems the universe heard your prayers. "I, uhm, n-don't want to sound weird or anything, just, I don't know if you want to stay and hang out, only if you want to, obviously…" "Yes!" you interrupted his nervous stuttering. "Of course."

You both sat down on the bed, and the conversation flowed so naturally that it seemed like you'd known each other your whole life. You both turned out to have very similar tastes and interests, similar personalities. You'd never have thought that two polar opposites could have so much in common. "Can you believe it? God, I really couldn't look a dog in the eye for a whole week!" you said indignantly. You were both lying side by side on the bed staring at the ceiling. "You just accidentally stepped on his paw. It's not that big of a deal," he laughed, turning his face toward yours. "Of course it is! He's a small dog, and his paw must have hurt a lot," you turned your head as well. You were both very close, so close that you could feel each other's breathing. You stared at each other for a few seconds, inevitably smiling. "You have a very beautiful smile," you whispered, looking into his eyes. "You are insanely beautiful, inside and out." Your smile faded; no one had ever said anything so beautiful to you. It was always about popularity, appearances, money, and how important mommy and daddy are on the social ladder. No one really cared about the other person. "Did I say something wrong? I… I'm sorry-" You interrupted, closing the space between you for just a few seconds before quickly pulling away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Now you were the one interrupted. Eddie's hand rested warmly on your cheek, his lips moving slowly with yours, completely in sync, as if you'd done this a thousand times. It felt so fucking good. The kisses lasted for a few minutes, their lips moving together, and a few shy but mischievous smiles at the same time. "God," he said, taking a deep breath, "that was…" "Incredible," you smiled, looking at his mouth, flushed from the recent session. You didn't even think about it for a second and threw yourself on top of him, now kissing him much more passionately, as he allowed you to do whatever you wanted with him. You both adjusted your position; he sat against the backrest and you straddled him, slowly rubbing yourself against him, getting even wetter with each of his little moans and murmurs. "Wait," you said, pulling away slightly. His face showed concern; he really didn't want to screw up. "I don't know about you, but I really want you to fuck me right now." You placed wet kisses on his neck. "I really don't think there's anything I wouldn't want to do with you. The thing is… I've never, you know." "You barely had any contact with women?" He looked at you, surprised. "I want to say no, but there's no need to say it like that. It seems like I'm a…" "A freak? Honey, you are a freak," you kissed him slowly, biting his lip. "But that's what drives me the most crazy." You took his hands and directed them to your breasts. "That and the fact that you've never touched a woman before." He smiled mischievously. "I bet you're just as freakish as I am." "You have no idea." You began to rub yourself against him more intensely while he watched, hypnotized by the movement of your breasts, touching them as if they were gold, although, to him, they were. "Do you want to fuck me in my cheerleader uniform?" You asked provocatively in his ear. He could only nod, unable to form a single word.

In the midst of all the wet kisses you were giving each other, you unbuttoned his pants while he lifted up your miniskirt, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. "Are you sure you want this?" you asked him one last time, just in case. "I've never been so sure about anything in my entire life," he looked you straight in the eyes. "Please." And that was all it took. Slowly and provocatively, you scattered kisses until you reached his pelvis. Seeing how big it was, you couldn't hold it back any longer; you took it all in your mouth. You had never felt so turned on as you looked at Eddie's face at that point, throwing his head back in a pleasurable sigh. "God," he said. "Fuck yeah, I don't know what's hotter, the sensation or watching you choke on my dick."

You stayed down there for a few minutes, but you were convinced you weren't going to let him finish right then. "I-I think I'm about to cum, fuck, keep going." His face paled as you quickly pulled out of your mouth and quickly straddled him again. Looking into his eyes the whole time, you took his big, hard dick in your hand and very gently began to slide down. "Oh my god, Eddie, you're so big, fuck," you moaned loudly, biting your mouth. He impulsively grabbed your hips tightly, squeezing you as if that would serve as catharsis. "It's so tight," he brought his face closer to your breasts. "Jump on me, baby, bounce hard on my dick. I know you love it, don't you?" he said between moans and sighs. Damn, you thought, where did he get such confidence out of nowhere? But the truth was that, inevitably, seeing you and hearing you moan about how big his cock was made him feel good. "Tell me you love it." "I love it-" You simply couldn't; with him thrusting in and out so hard, it was impossible. You were at it for about 10 minutes, five of which were spent with him fucking you on all fours. He thrust into you with a force you didn't know he had, moaning as loudly as you could and even biting the sheets and pillows to contain some of your noises. When you both came, you spent a few minutes lying in bed, breathing and trying to recover all your lost energy. "Did you like it?" you asked curiously. "That was the best experience of my entire life." You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his astonished face. "Well, I'm very glad-" "EDDIE!" a man's shout came from the entrance of the house. You both quickly get up and get dressed. "Who is it?" you ask worriedly. "That's my uncle," he whispers, approaching you. Without you being able to do anything else, and with Eddie still buttoning his pants, the door suddenly opens. "Damn, man, don't you know how to play?" the freak asks. "Oh shit, sorry, I wanted to know if it was you with all that noise…" Eddie quickly pushed his uncle out of the room and walked out into the small hallway with him.

You were red-faced with embarrassment, and inwardly grateful that he'd gotten his uncle out of the room. "How much did you hear?" the young man asks, concerned. Wayne sighs in disgust. "Things I wish I could erase from my memory." Eddie immediately squeezed his eyes shut, and was about to apologize. "Don't bother, just make sure I'm not home from work." He turns to leave, but something stops him in his tracks. "How did you do it?" "What do you mean?" "A cheerleader? Seriously, you? And a cheerleader?" he asks incredulously. Eddie looks at him, offended, and quickly gives him the finger. "Fuck off."

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

Leaving the cute weirdo's house was easy. Thank goodness his uncle was in bed, and you didn't have to say hello. How embarrassing. It was already the next day. Eddie was a little disappointed. He really didn't expect you to talk to him again unless you needed something illegal. And he clearly knew you weren't going to speak to him at school, which made him sad. He'd really had a great time, way beyond the sex. But he didn't know anything. It was lunchtime. The cafeteria, as always, was perfectly divided into its specific social groups. The black-haired man was with his group of friends, the social outcasts, the freaks, but he really wasn't paying attention to anything his friends were talking about. "Eddie," Dustin called, "what's wrong? Aren't you listening?" "Sorry, what were you saying?" But he didn't hear him either. He was too busy watching you sitting about two tables away, how beautiful your smile was, your long chocolate-brown hair, and your excellent figure… as if he were telepathically calling you. You turned around and both of you locked eyes. Although you smiled slightly at him, you quickly turned your head back to your friends. His disappointed gaze lowered to the table. "Shit," he whispered. He knew this would happen; you're super popular, but maybe, even though he doesn't want to admit it, he still had some hope… "Hey, Eddie," your soft voice sounded behind him. There was such a silence at the weirdo table that you could hear a bishop fall. Everyone stared at you, not understanding what was happening. How could you be at his table, and how do you even know the name of his friend, the freak king? Eddie slowly turned his head in disbelief. "Hey," he sighed, quickly standing up from the table to face you. "What are you doing here?" "What do you mean, I wanted to say hi, does that bother you?" "No, no, of course not," he quickly answered. "It's just that I didn't think you'd approach me at school, much less in the cafeteria," he laughed awkwardly. All his friends were still staring at them in disbelief; there was no way in this universe that what they were experiencing could be explained. "I already told you I don't care," you said tiredly. "I know, I just… it's just that I didn't think…" You had gotten that far; you couldn't listen to him anymore. You would do anything to make him understand that you didn't care what people said. And you did. Your arms quickly slid around his neck and your mouth connected with his, leaving all the boys at the table and some of your friends in the distance with their mouths on the floor. It was a tender kiss, immediately reciprocated by Eddie, who didn't even remember that he, the weird kid who plays monster games, was kissing the most beautiful girl in town, the friend of everyone at school, the girl everyone wanted to be with. "Please understand," you said between kisses. "I like you." Another kiss. "A lot." And the world stopped spinning for him. "Are you sure about what you're saying?" he said, unable to believe it. "Of course," you smiled, the two of you still sharing a beautiful closeness. "I'll expect you at my house today at 4 p.m. Bring plenty of clothes. I don't plan on letting you go for at least a week." With one last playful smile and one last kiss on those soft lips you loved so much, you walked away again. "Bye guys!" you greeted his friends as if it were an everyday occurrence. "What the fuck?" was all you heard from them.

[deangirlsstuff67]

What’s Wrong?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You thought he hated you, you were very wrong.

Warnings: fingering, period sex, shower sex, dirty talk, p in v, language, creampie

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

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You’ve been living in the bunker for a year now. Became good friends with Sam. Help him with research and lore. Sam quickly became your best friend, the older Winchester however seems to hate you.

You don’t know what you did to Dean to earn his hatred but it’s there everyday. Whether you’re walking into the kitchen in the morning in your oversized tshirt and panties to get coffee or in the library with Sam researching the next big bad. Doesn’t seem to matter what you wear, say, or do, Dean just glares and goes to a different room.

—————————————————————————

Sam has left for a quick solo hunt leaving you and the green eyed hunter alone in the bunker together for a few days.

Great.

To be fair you’re on your period and the cramps aren’t exactly very pleasant. You plan on staying in bed, watch some tv and try and get through it with as little pain as possible. No need for the two of you to cross paths.

Later that night you can hear Dean in his room watching one of his movies. You’ve ran out of Advil and the cramps are getting worse. You decide to go ask Dean for some before hitting the shower to stand in the hot water.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you hear the older Winchester move towards the door to open it.

There’s that glare again.

Slightly hunched over, hand over your lower stomach you take a deep breath before asking, “sorry to bother you but was wondering if you’d have some pain killers I can have?”

You’re met with silence as Dean looks you up and down. You’re in one of your oversized tshirts again. Hair in a messy bun.

He makes his way to his dresser and picks up a bottle to give to you.

“Thanks. I’m going to go shower just so you know.”

Nothing. Not a sound is returned as you turn on your heels and make your way to the large shared bathroom.

—————————————————————————

Hands against the cool tile, hot water hitting your lower back and rolling down your body. The Advil Dean gave you has kicked in and you can feel your muscles begin to relax.

Standing in the shower stall you hear the slight click of the door closing. Turning around you come face to face with an angry looking Dean.

What the hell.

You’re about to yell at him as he walks towards you, stopping shy of the wet tile floor you’re occupying, then he talks, “what’s wrong?”

Blinking you stare at him for a minute before your brain catches up with your mouth, “nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Since when is this a thing.

You go to turn off the water, trying to remove yourself from this awkward situation as fast as possible. Before your fully turned away from him, he walks you straight back against the cool tile wall behind you.

Warm water starts to soak through his clothes as he has you pinned between him and the wall. Large biceps on either side of your head as he looks down at you. His beautiful green eyes clouded with an emotion you can only describe as hunger.

“What’s wrong y/n?”

“My… my uh… period is giving me a hard time is all.”

“Mmm…” his large hand moves from beside your head to your naked lower stomach. You can feel the heat spreading through your body from the contact.

Without a word he slowly starts to descend lower until his hand is gentle cupping your naked pussy. A small moan slips past your lips from his touch, you watch the smirk instantly grace his face from the sound.

“Is this pussy angry?”

If you could answer you would. Instead you’re focused on his fingers slowly spreading your lower lips open and gentle rubbing threw the mess between your thighs.

“Need me to make her happy for you darling?”

You nod. It’s all your brain can do.

“Words y/n.”

“Y.. yes.”

That’s all he needed before pushing two thick fingers deep inside you. Your back arches from the pleasure as he slowly works them in and out of your sore cunt.

Deans lips ghost over your ear as he praises you with his filthy mouth.

“That’s it baby girl. I can feel you squeezing me.”

“God you’re so tight. Going to hug my cock so good.”

“Been wanting you since the day I met you sweetheart.”

You feel the coil tighten within you. Your walls are fluttering around his fingers as he brings you to the edge. His thumb makes contact with your clit and it’s game over. You cum all over his fingers as he slowly pushes them in and out as he works you through your first orgasm.

“That’s my girl. Fuck you’re beautiful when you cum for me.”

You never dreamed this moment would happen. Definitely not when you were naked in the shower on your period and he was fully clothed and soaked standing in that shower with you.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you aren’t sure what to say. He’s so close, fingers still slowly working you back towards another orgasm.

“Talk to me sweetheart.”

“I thought you hated me Dean…”

One second he was smiling at you the next he was kissing you. His lips moving at the same speed of his fingers. Instinctively your arms wrap around head neck, drawing him closer. When you both need to come up for air, he has you teetering on the edge.

“I never hated you y/n,” moving your hand to his crotch you feel his large, hard cock. “Was jealous my brother was with you all the time.”

He removes his fingers from your tight cunt. Both hands under your ass, he lifts you up, walking you back to his room the shower forgotten.

“Going to show you how much I like you sweetheart.”

Kicking the door shut behind him, he lays you down with him on top of you.

“Dean I can’t… my period.”

Lips ghosting your throat he responds, “fuck my bed baby, make it a mess if that means I finally get to have you.”

How on earth I find the idea of that sexy is beyond me but I do. Knowing he doesn’t care about anything but making me feel good has me damn near feral for the man.

—————————————————————————

Make a mess we did.

I’ve lost count of the number of orgasms this man has pulled from my trembling body. Only to now be lazily thrusting into my well used pussy with my back to his chest, his fingers softly playing with my clit as he whispers both filthy and sweet words to me.

“You’re so pretty all fucked out on my dick sweetheart.”

“That’s it baby, one more for me.”

“Fuck you were made for me.”

One more rub on my clit and stars explode behind my eyelids as I cum yet again all over his cock. Dean grunts in my ear as he falls over the edge with me, filling me up with his seed as he slowly fucks it deep inside of me.

That’s how we stay. Wrapped in each others arms with his cock still inside me as sleep takes us. My period forgotten just like the rest of the world.

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Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @spnaquakindgdom @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @nancymcl @tspmoff @syrma-sensei @yvonneeeee @deansimpalababy @multiversefanfics @kimxwinchester @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @lessons-of-red @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @maggiegirl17 @idontwannabehere87

[rav1377]

To Love and To Cherish

Nikolai x John Price x fem!reader

this got SO out of hand, even had to google what the dirty term for daddy was in russian😭

tw:bar, drinking, slight/possible drugging, intoxication, reader goes home w them drunk(DONT DO THIS EVER), underlying daddy issues, Big Beefy Men tm, use of grown up derogatory term? (big girl, not referring to body.)erm smut, smut, and more smut, intoxicated sex(don’t do this guys, consent is key), unprotected sex(DONT DO THIS.), sharing, age gap (reader is twenty smth, John/Nik are old men in their late thirties early forties, daddy talk (im sorry😭I HAD TO)marriage talk, housewife idolization, uh-lmk if I missed smth!

very special thank you to the amazing @elaineiswithyou-blog for allowing me to base this off their post! 💕

the overcrowded bar just got a little more crowded when you stepped into the room, squeezing through people to get to the bar. you don’t see any stools open and you scan the space, looking for a place to rest your achy feet and get a small drink. a throat clears behind you with a deep rumble, and you tense unconsciously, turning to look at the source of the noise. two beefy older men on two barstools, one open in between them.

the one on the left has slicked back hair, it’s black, possibly a very dark brown. it runs down the nape of his neck and curls up slightly at the ends. his eyes have a mischievous and knowing sheen in them, like he knows a joke that you aren’t in on. his thick face is pale, and a strong nose rests on it. a gold chain sits on his chest from where hair pokes out of the top of a white tee shirt. he’s got an odd jacket thrown on top of it, leather with patches sprinkled on it. his thighs seem to bulge out of his beaten up jeans, and work boots peek out of the bottom of them. handsome. maybe a bad kind of handsome, he’s not the kind of man a pretty little girl like you should be hanging with.

eyes drifting to the other man, you’re meet with startling ice-blue eyes nestled among a hairy man. his brown hair covers him everywhere. he’s got mutton chops even. it suits him though. in the dark light you can’t see the light freckles decorating the bridge of his nose, but you will. his white button up is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms that lead up to his biceps that stretch the fabric. dear lord you think you’re having heart palpitations(i sure am). his arms are crossed at you as he looks at you. a strong chest is obviously visible, and even more hair creeps out of the collar. he’s got slacks on, the old kind with black buttons fastening them, rather a zipper. sailor pants, you think. that’s what they’re called. again, he’s on the older side, but plenty of life left in his eyes.

it’s only been a few seconds before you hear the sleazy man call out to you in an accent you think is russian. “there’s a open seat over here, milaya, come sit with us.” he practically purrs, twisting to face you in his seat. your eyes flit to his and then to his hand which gestures to the seat in between them. hesitant, you walk to the stool, they’re at least respectable enough to make some room for you to squeeze in. “thank you.” you mutter, trying to take up as little room as possible, shoulders and legs tense. “you new ‘ere?” the second one asks, setting down a strong-looking drink. “uh, yes. a friend told me about this bar.” the man’s eyebrows jump at that. “your friend in the military?” he says, lifting his glass to take a small sip of his drink. “no. her boyfriend is though. I think.” you frown, unable to remember for sure. still, he nods. “you need a drink, milaya. no one comes to a bar just to sit and talk with old men like us.” the other one says, flagging down a busy bartender. you don’t really drink all too much so when the beefy man on your left prattles off a drink order you’re not even sure what it is, you stay silent. when the bartender asks who’s tab it’s going on you raise your hand, fingers slipping into your little purse and pulling out your card. the one on your right is quick to stop you, leaning in and grabbing the wrist that holds the little piece of plastic.

“none of that, luv. we’ll pay.” he says, gently tugging your hand away from the man who’s sticky with sweat. nodding at him, the bartender catches the hint and walks off, saying “i’ll put it on your tab, then.” your face is heating up, slightly embarrassed and unsure of what to do. so you hide your face, pointing it downward, trying to hide behind your hair. beefy man bows his head down, trying to look at your eyes. “no thank you? and i thought you had manners.” he laughs when you’re face shoots right back up. “thank you.” you respond, shy from your mistake. “Nikolai.” he says, pushing a hand in your direction. you take it weakly, and his hand drawrfs yours, firm grip shaking it up and down, fingers lingering a little too long. you respond with your name, before facing the man on your right. “John.” he says gruffly. you nod, eyes directed at the bar again, unsure of what to do. they are good looking. might be a little old for you if anything, but not extremely suspicious. no you weren’t exactly looking for fun, but now you have two to choose from.

the bartender returns with your drink, placing it in front of you. “something sweet for a girl who looks even sweeter.” Nikolai grins, and picks it up for you, stirring it around with the straw they placed in it. the amber liquid swirls around, a cherry sits in the bottom of the glass. “what is it?” you ask. “you’ll like it sweetheart.” John says, reaching over you to take it from Nikolai, holding it in front of you. angling the straw, you take a sip, and you make a pleased noise. “wow. that is good.” taking the glass from him, you hold it back to your lips, taking another gulp. the liquid sits in your mouth and you savor it before swallowing again. the alcohol is there, but it doesn’t even overpower you. you taste cherry added and whatever Nikolai told them to put in this you’re so thankful for. you’ve always had a low alcohol tolerance and an even lower one for bitter stuff, but this makes you smile. sipping again, you relax, determining the men aren’t threats. Nikolai shoots you a worried glance over the glass of scotch. “you going to breathe at all?” he asks, lifting the drink away. “hey!” you cry. teeth shining in a cruel smirk he places it on the bar. “it’s good.” you shrug, opening up more. warmth blooms in your chest, and you face John, sad look on your pretty face. “look what you did, makin’ her pout, Nik.” you raise your eyebrows and turn your head back to the other man. “Nik?” you question. the russian accented man merely shrugs.

“so what are you doing here, milaya?”Nik says, sipping from his glass. it’s your turn to shrug now. “just bored i guess…wanted something to do..”you say, stirring your drink lazily. “mm. and you thought we’d entertain you?” John asks, leaning his elbow on the bar before placing his chin on his hand. god what was in that drink? your head feels warm and fuzzy. you raise your glass and take another fat sip. “well, you made me sit down with you.” you murmur. “ah, but you chose to sit. we didn’t force you into the seat.” he counters. Nik nods in agreement. “you must’ve liked what you saw, hm?” he says, leaning in just a bit too close. the alcohol seeps into your bloodstream as you finish off your drink. you stay silent though, pushing it to the bar. John finishes his own drink, flagging down the bartender again. “‘nother round.” he calls out, and the man nods. Nik leans in, fat hand curling around your shoulder. “i know what i am talking about, don’t i?” he grins, pressing his nose into your hair. you lean away but John pushes you into him more. “mm-hmm.” you murmur.

you know you shouldn’t allow this. stand up for yourself, set the boundaries. just because they’re handsome and tall doesn’t mean they can push you around. something behind your heart swells though. you want them too, deep down. let them tell you what to do. let them lead and guide you, help you make good decisions. so you let them, becoming pliant in each stroke of their hands, word of their mouth, and each drink that they slip you.

you just finished your third one and your eyes are lidded as you look at John. “well no! hic it wasn’t my fault. you see my stupid coworker didn’t submit her report, and i got in trouble!” you cry, crossing your arms over your chest. John laughs. “alright, that’s fair.” he says, rubbing circles into your back. you hiccup again, drowsy. “not a big drinker, milaya?” Nikolai asks, sipping on his fourth glass of scotch. you shake your head helplessly. “you ever try scotch?” John asks, offering you his glass. “no.” you respond, gripping the glass. he keeps his hand on it though, raising it to your lips. you knew scotch was strong, but not that strong. under the impression that it would be a bit like your other drink, you took a too-big sip. your face scrunches and you sputter, liquid burning your throat. Nik laughs. “you’re not a drinker at all.” John says, pulling it away from you. wiping your lips, you glare at him. “that was mean.” you growl, leaning back into Nikolai. the man behind you rumbles out a chuckle and promptly lifts you from the stool and into his lap. squeaking, you clasp your hands into his fingers that are around your waist as your back presses into his chest. John looks at y’all, dark look creeping into his eyes. He takes your spot at the bar, and he leans in. “sorry doll.” he chuckles, tracing a finger down your thighs. warmth pools in between your legs, and you push your thighs together.

Nikolai wraps his hands tighter. “want to get used to big-girl drinks?” he asks. you stay silent. “we have some other stuff back at our home.” he murmurs over you shoulder and into your ear. you’re still silent when John says something. “c’mon, luv, we don’t bite.” he’s still petting your thigh. your fuzzy mind tries to weigh the pros and cons of going. on one hand, you might have the best night of your life. other hand, you might get axe murdered. your eyes trail to John’s. “not goin’ to do anything ‘less you wan’ to.” he murmurs, fingers still petting your thigh. nodding slowly, you reach down and grab his hand. Nikolai nods behind you and you swear you feel something beneath you. anxiety creeps back into your system, but John notices and stands before you can chicken out. Nik rises and puts you back on your feet, and both men escort you out of the bar. you feel safe though, everyone averts their eyes at the sight of the two men. no perverted glances or “stray hands”. no one flirting with you. it’s nice, peaceful. leaning into Nik more, he carries your weight on his arm. John pushes open the door, Nik’s hand slipping into a pocket before tossing keys to John. the brunette moves to a car before clicking open the lock. Nikolai’s large hand opens the back seat for you, helping you in. you fumble to put the buckle in its clasp, Nik guides your fingers until a sharp click is heard. he goes to shut the door, but not before John calls out, “don’t leave the doll back there all alone.” Nik scoffs. “you need me here milaya?”he asks, broad form leaning down to look at your face. “think i do..”you trail off, grabbing at his jacket. rolling his eyes, he clambers over your body to the middle seat, muttering something about he’s too old for this. you shut the door behind him promptly. his fat bicep slips over your shoulder as John pulls off and onto the road. your brains still fuzzy, but it’s not like you’re completely dumb(yet.). “where are we going?” you ask, looking out the window. “Nik’s place.” John says gruffly. you glare at the back of his head, “where is Nik’s place?”. a hand traces the inside of your thigh lazily. “not far, milaya. 20 minutes north?” he says, spreading his knees apart to get comfortable. “twenty minutes?!” you exclaim, groaning again. “can’t be patient for twenty minutes, luv? we’ll show you something real interesting when you get there.” John says sultrily. your mouth shuts at that, mind racing with anticipation.

“mm. she’s quiet again.” Nikolai muses, hands creeping higher. John sees from the rear view mirror. “knock that off Nik.” he says, hands tightening on the wheel. “fine. save the best for later, right milaya?” he grunts, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you nod, and feeling brave, press one to his. his eyes are back on you in an instant, wide and determined. uh oh. tickled the bear, you did. he’s on you in a second, lips everywhere. you gasp as his teeth pinch the skin of your neck. he doesn’t stop though, encourages him even. your hands wander over his collarbone to his shoulder, coming to rest on either side of his neck. he begins to pull away, readjusting his pants. your fingers brush the chain he wears, warmed by his skin. and idea slips into that little head of yours and you curl your fingers around it, pulling the sleazy man back toward you. he groans and his left hand slips to your waist again before he’s all over you once more.

when the car slows and you feel the pavement change you pull away from the man. looking around, you’re surrounded by tall trees, in the middle of a forest. it makes sense though, the little town with the bars at is that, little. military town serving the soldiers that reside on a base nearby. but this isn’t a neighborhood or apartment. it’s a hanger. “what are we-“ your words are cut off by Nik’s cooing in your ear. “shh. don’t worry about it, we’re home.” you’re still confused as John shuts off the car and comes to your door, pulling it open before helping you out. he cradles an arm around your hip, walking to the humongous building. “what you’re not going to help me out?” Nik yells after him. you hear a door shut and boots on pavement. John just smirks. but you recognize that glint in his eye.

oh. oh.

oh you like this.

the large door is open enough for you and John to slip through, Nik quickly following behind. a large helicopter sits in the middle of the floor, taking up space. a small plane rests in the back next another copter. you’ve never been up close to a helicopter and you’re shocked just by its sheer size. Nik walks over, patting the nose of it. “like it?” Nik asks, hands on his hips. he looks proud. John scoffs, “what that big ugly thing next to the helicopter?” Nik’s smirk fades, glaring at the man next to you. a laugh escapes you. “oh you liked that?” Nikolai says, gaze shifting to you. John’s hand comes down over your ass, head tilting to your ear. “yeah, you like that?” he says lowly. you blush. “it’s nice, Nik.” smiling at him. he smiles and walks over to a door on the side of the hanger, and John drags you over as well. it looks like a meeting room, big open table, chairs scattered around. but Nik walks to a set of stairs that lead to what looks to be an apartment. well, whatever you call the living quarters in a aircraft hanger. there’s a kitchen to the left, opening up to a small living room. the brown hardwood floors are covered with old-looking rugs that could pass for tapestries. Nik hums a low tune and grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the couch, popping you in his lap.

giggling, you turn over your shoulder to gaze at John, who’s pulling out some bottles from a cabinet. he takes slow, wide, steps to where you’re seated. he sits down, unscrewing a bottle of bourbon. Nik sits up, holding you upright. John lifts your chin and tips the bottle to your lips, letting liquid spill into your mouth. you try to swallow as much as you can, gasping when it overflows and drips down your chin. sputtering, you spit some out, and hits the bottom of John’s slacks. choking down the bitter liquid, Nik hums in approval. “makin’ a mess, aren’t you, hun?” John says, setting down the bottle on the floor. Nik stands up behind you, still thoroughly presses against you. “be good and take his shirt off, milaya.” Nik groans behind you, grinding into you slowly, heavy hand on your neck. okay now you definitely felt something behind you now.

your hands drift up to the collar of his shirt, undoing another and another, and another until you slowly untuck his button up from his slacks. pushing off the shirt, he helps you slide it from his shoulders. ohmygodwhyishesohairy you think as your eyes look down his chest, trailing down to his belly button. his happy trail disappears into his pants, and a pretty freckle sits underneath the left side of his belly button. your fingers trace the waistband of his slacks and begin to undo a button on his sailor pants. Nik is still grinding into you from behind, encouraging you with a squeeze to the hip. taking a deep breath, you undo the other buttons down the row before loosening the flap, pushing them down his hips. he helps you then, stepping out of them, still in boxers. love handles poke out over them, and you practically swoon again. you don’t get much time to dwell on him though, he’s picking up the other bottle and turning you to face Nik. “this one’s vodka, darling.” John says behind you, lips against your nape. he presses against you, and he’s chubbing up in his knickers at the sight of Nikolai bottle feeding you one of his favorite drinks. your face scrunches after a tiny sip, but you continue to drink until Nik pulls away, liquid dripping down your chest now, staining your shirt. you’re quick to get the memo again, rucking your hands up Nikolai’s shirt to pull it off his head. the russian quickly pulls off his leather jacket to let you, and helps you lift it over his overstretched arms. you’re convinced your going to pass out. Nikolai’s just so thick. all meat on his bones, his stomach isn’t insanely toned like so many other men are obsessed with. he’s got a healthy amount of pudge on him. licking your lips, you lean it to where Nik’s taking a sip of the drink, and you kiss him, liquid spilling between the two of you. pulling away the bottle, he’s gasping against your lips. you make easier work of his simple jeans, yanking the zipper down quickly. the large man steps out of them as well, hands pawing at your chest through the fabric.

John leans over, pulling up the hem of your little blouse until it’s fully over your head and on the floor, doing something similar with your bra. Nik’s on his knees unbuttoning your jeans, yanking them down. you gasp, leaning a hand on his shoulder to help you out of them without falling. he comes back up, returning to your mouth. Johns hand has come around and kneads the skin of your breasts, sighing as he grinds you slowly. Nikolai’s got a gleam in his eye as he pulls away, trading the bottle of vodka for the bourbon. he forces your head over you shoulder so John can connect his mouth with yours before pouring the bourbon into your mouths, John gripping you tighter. you try to keep as much as you can in your mouth, really! but it’s just so strong you can’t, and Nik’s pouring too much! saliva a alcohol dance on your lips when you pull away, Nikolai quick to turn the bottle up. John’s front and the back of your neck is sticky with alcohol, and you lean back to Nik, spreading the mixture over his neck. John’s tipping more vodka into your mouth, and you’re taking it now, trying to keep your mind off the burn and taste. he’s not stupid though, only allows you a little at a time.

it’s so much. both beefy men sandwiching you and pouring alcohol down your throat, hips grinding without any sign of stopping. your so sensitive, both their movements causing slick to pool in between your legs. you whine, pressing your face into Nik’s chest, hands drifting down his large torso. he tuts before saying “done milaya?” you nod rapidly, fingers dipping into his boxers, desperate for more. “uh-huh.” John says firmly, yanking your hands away. Nik grumbles “she’s doing good!” he exclaims, petting your hair. “mhm. ‘m so good, pleasepleaseplease Nik, wan’ it.” the alcohol is really hitting you now. John shakes his head, pulling you to him, and crouches down before tucking his hands under your knees and lifting. you yelp, clinging to his shoulders as he carries you to another room. must be their bedroom. a bed sits inside, draped with a heavy quilt and brown throw. more blankets peek out under it, and your mind flits to the thought of both of them curled up next to each other during the cold nights. you’d bet they’d be so warm, thick and hairy bodies perfect for cuddling.

John places you down gently, lips kissing down your neck and over your chest, his hands pulling down your knickers. Nik’s right behind him, and shucks his own before climbing onto the bed, tucking your head on his lap. John’s stepping out of his before leaning back down to you, spreading your thighs and dipping his tongue into you. you mewl, hand darting down to grip his hair. your other flounders, finding purchase in the sheets as your back arches and you squirm. a noise emerges from behind you, something rubbing, like skin on skin. you look back, head tilting to see Nikolai touching himself, hand moving slowly, dragging in steady motions. you moan at the sight of it, and John glances up to only growl into your skin, grazing his teeth over your clit. you watch as his right hand drifts down to grip himself. you don’t believe what you’re doing right now. this is so crazy. you’re about to get absolutely ruined by men 15 year older than you. maybe more.

you’re a moaning mess, eyes turning glassy, zoning in and out. John’s relentless, tongue pushing and bullying your cunt while his fingers tease your clit further. Nik’s hand picked up his own pace, and groans fall from his own lips each time your eyes look up at his. “John…”he growls. “can’t take it.” Nik says, looking at the brunette, John lifts his eyes to the russian and god if he could come right then and there. you, face blissed out in pleasure, and Nik, cock ruddy and dripping, head thrown back as he pants. suddenly, you’re yanked down the bed by your ankles as John man handles you onto you belly, and then your knees, pulling your hips back to meet his face where he’s bent over the bed, hand propping him up, the other playing with himself. his mouth is right back on you and Nikolai gets the message, scooting forward so your mouth can be put to work. your jaw already hangs open, and you take him in slowly, swirling around his tip and underside. he practically growling and twitching the whole time it takes you to get to his base, face shoved in his hairy pubes. you get louder, moaning around Nik as John is relentless, forcing a coil to tighten in your lower stomach. Nikolai is groaning, fist in your hair as he twitches into you, releasing finally. he bucks his hips into you, and you gag, trying to keep yourself planted. as he pulls off, you’re gasping, leaning your face up as he grabs your chin, pulling you into a kiss. that’s when John’s fingers rub you just right and the coil snaps. eyes rolling back you moan into Nik’s mouth, trying to get away from John. he lets you go, and you scramble onto Nik’s lap. the russian holds you softly, shushing into your temple as you takes gulps of air. John’s got an amused look on his face as he straightens.

Nikolai positions you to where you face John, back to his chest. he’s careful to maneuver you slowly onto his length, rubbing circles on your waist as you twitch. like the rest of him, he’s unbelievably thick. reaching the right spots in you, dragging along the sides of you just right, making your mewl as he pushes deeper. when his hips are flush with yours, something clicks off in your brain. you’re just so pliant now, wanting to get wrecked. his tip feels like it’s flush with your womb. he’s gasping for breath too as you sit against the headboard, slightly bouncing you. you’re eyes are glossy as you look up at him, leaning your head back to kiss his neck. “please-hic!please, daddy, wan’ you.” you say, trying to move more. Nikolai merely chuckles and turns your head to face John, who’s running a hand up and down himself slowly, watching you two with lidded eyes. “no no, milaya. i’m your papochka. that man is your daddy.” he says as his fingers begin to rub your clit again. you keen and nod, before you’re begging John to let Nikolai ruin you. John laughs lowly as Nik continues to bounce you, hitting your cervix every time. you’re crying, tears running freely, but don’t worry! your papochka is there to lick them away. John seems intent on making you wait, holding off until he’s ready to release, shifting closer till his leaking tip is brushing your soft skin of your torso. “please please please” you echo, and John nods, groaning as he spurts out onto your abdomen. the coil in your snaps, and you trash in Nik’s arms as he holds you down against him. he’s loud as well, groaning as you clench around him.

you’re sobbing, clutching Nik’s hand as he pulls you off of him. John gets off the bed, standing to the side. him and Nikolai share a secret look, and the russian switches places with John. Nik picks you up so John can slip under you, guiding you on top of his member. he’s not as thick as Nikolai, but still fills you up to what seem is past your limit. Nik kneels down so his mouth is even with where you meet. John’s knees drift apart and he holds you legs open to give the man beneath you better access. Nik’s on you in and instant, licking at your clit as John rolls his hips lazily. you let out a low groan, unsure if you could take more. “Nik…” you mewl, head tipping onto John’s shoulder. “ah-ah” John tuts, fisting your hair to look down at where Nikolai is. “what did he tell you to call him, luv.” John says firmly. Nik smiles and runs a hand over his tip, about to spill. that has to wait until he hears the word. you blush and look down. “papochka…” you murmur. that’s when Nik’s coming. he groans and shoots back up, stroking himself as he spills onto your cunt, soaking where you and John meet even more. he’s growling, almost animalistic, leaning forward. you think he’s going to kiss you but he bypasses you for John, digging his teeth into the British man’s shoulder. John gasps, thrusting into you. you keen, hands darting out to Nikolai’s hips. he’s shaking in your arms, and falls back to his knees, working at you furiously again, intent on making you release. it’s so quick, you’re gripping his slick hair one moment, bucking onto his face, and the next you’re undone, shaking. you see white and screw your eyes shut, jaw slack open. Nik rises, already hard tip brushing where you and John meet.

a bad idea appears in his and John’s head almost simultaneously.

John nods, shifting his arms around you so you can’t move, Nik’s steadying himself on your hip, other hand guiding himself at your entrance that’s clenching on John’s cock. there’s room, he tells himself(no there isn’t.) before you know it, he’s pushing in, stretching you past your limits. tears run down your cheeks as you sob. you can’t take it!!! Nik’s shushing you, reassuring you that you can, that you are. oh. did you say that out loud? you wouldn’t know anymore, too blissed out to know. you’re spewing words like “no-can’t take it!” and they’re both there to shush you, comforting you as Nik rocks into you further. everyone lets a sigh of relief out when Nik bottoms out. the russian is just grateful you’re not passed out or in serious pain. they let you acclimate, thank goodness, and you relax around both of them as best as you can, but you’re stretched to the max.

you’re so full.

that’s when they start to move. Nik sets the pace this time, thrusting in when he wants. John groans at the feeling of Nikolai’s length rubbing on his, and lets out a high noise when his head is rubbed just the right way on a particularly rough thrust. Nik is panting, arm on John’s shoulder to steady himself. the brit is pressing kisses to your neck, licking at your sweat while Nik kisses your cheek, calling you good and so perfect for them. you just take them so well! you’re made for it!

Nik pushes you all closer to the edge, and you’re the first to snap. being stretched makes you oh so sensitive, combined with your previous times, you’re overstimulated. as Nikolai starts to rub your clit again you start to shake, crying out in short moans as you come around them both. John’s next, letting out a gasp as your aftershocks hit him. spilling into you, he’s growling nonsense into your shoulder about keeping you with them, making you their wife, you’re already perfect for them, luv. Niks last, still rocking into you after he spurts out ropes. he’s panting, forehead pressed to yours as he comes down from his high. both begin to soften in you and Nik pulls out first, you still twitch with overstimulation. he lifts you up so John can move from under you, he reclines on the bed, lifting up the covers. Nikolai maneuvers you next to John before climbing in after him. cleaning up can wait until tomorrow. they cradle you, shushing you to sleep. you nod along with everything they say, mind addled by liquor and sex. something pulls at you though, telling you yes, stay with them, be their little wife. you’d be so good. you’re young and can still have their babies, cook good meals for them after they come back from hard missions. you mumble yes after yes, eyes fluttering shut. Nik holds you in his lap, before slipping off a ring from his pinky, holding up your left hand. “want to be our wife then, milaya?” he asks into your ear.

it’s so nice in this bed. they’re so warm, just like you thought. they took such good care of you. you can take care of them, you think before murmuring out an “i do.” John smiles into your neck as Nikolai slips the ring onto your ring finger, kissing your ear. “to love and to cherish.” John rumbles, throwing an arm over you. “to love and to cherish.” Nikolai repeats, fat hand on your hip.

“to love and to cherish.” you whisper.

[rafeysvenicebitch]

🦢007 masterlist

CW: cussing, old lady gossip, fluff

a/n: FUCK. It has been so long since I’ve updated this story. I’ll try posting more of this!!

Rafe was right. The country club ladies had a field day with your scandal.

They clutched their pearls and tightened their tennis visors as you walked through the doors of Figure Eight Country Club, this time not on Rafe’s arm, but alone. The usual whispers felt louder, bolder. Some didn’t even pretend anymore. The way their heads turned, how their sunglasses dropped just enough to shoot you a glance of judgment—it was something else.

You kept your chin up, strutting in a pair of Miu Miu slingbacks, a pale pink Chanel tweed dress, and your hair ribboned in satin. If they wanted to look, let them look.

You weren’t there to gossip or tan by the pool. You were there to work.

The club manager, a woman named Doreen who always smelled like lemon pledge and backhanded compliments, walked you through the details of the upcoming charity gala Rafe was hosting. You’d be performing—your first major public performance since everything blew up—and you were going to look the part.

You had your notepad open, scribbling lyrics and humming melody ideas under your breath, when one of the older men, Mr. Jennings, slid into the chair beside you with his drink sloshing.

“You gonna sing for us the way you sing for Rafe?” he smirked.

You stared at him. “Only if you match his donation.”

He chuckled, embarrassed, before retreating, and you caught Kayden across the room watching the whole thing. He came over, dropping off a hibiscus spritz without being asked. “You good?”

“Always.”

Meanwhile, Lottie and Nora were by the pool with paint swatches and linen samples, arguing over ivory versus eggshell and whether blush pink was too cliché for the gala. You joined them, sipping your drink and pointing to champagne tones instead. They agreed. The three of you talked about candle centerpieces, Rafe’s reputation, and which color made you look like money.

You tried texting Rafe a photo of one of the setups. Looks okay?

He didn’t answer.

You tried again. Miss you.

Still nothing. Then your phone rang.

“Where are you?” you asked softly.

“I’m working,” he said, clipped.

“I know, but like… where?”

You could almost hear the cigarette drag through the phone before he said, coldly, “Don’t ask me that again.” Then, a pause. A thump. The sound of a card being slapped onto something.

The line went dead. But when you looked down, you saw a photo from your concierge app. Rafe had given you his black Amex. Again.

—

Later that week, you went dress shopping.

It was Lottie who suggested the boutique in Charleston. You didn’t want subtle. You didn’t want sweet. You wanted to command the room.

And you found it.

A custom Versace gown—blush pink satin that clung to you like liquid. Corseted bodice with a sweetheart neckline. Thigh-high slit. The train shimmered with crystals that caught the light like champagne bubbles. Paired with Manolo Blahnik stilettos, diamond drop earrings, and elbow-length La Perla opera gloves, you were a walking headline.

The night of the gala, Rafe finally showed.

He was in a crisp black Tom Ford tux, his hair slicked back, and his watch was a vintage Cartier. You caught him watching you from across the room with that cold, unreadable look he always wore before doing something unhinged.

The lights dimmed.

And then you were on stage.

A band behind you. Velvet curtains. The crowd’s breath caught as you stepped into the spotlight.

You sang:

Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.

Chick Habit.

Be My Baby.

Each song more flirtatious, more decadent than the last. You twirled, you winked, you sang like your life depended on it—and every man in the room watched you like you were a fantasy come to life.

When the final notes of Be My Baby faded, you held the mic up, smiling.

And then, from the edge of the stage, Rafe walked out.

He didn’t look at the crowd. Just you. He took the mic from your hand—and kissed you.

Right there, under the lights, in front of socialites and donors and every woman who thought you didn’t belong.

Gasps. Flashbulbs. A few champagne glasses breaking.

He finally turned to the crowd and spoke about the cause—funding addiction recovery centers in the Outer Banks, something deeply personal to him, though he never said why.

But it wasn’t what he said that mattered. It was how he looked at you.

—

Afterward, he took you to dinner. Somewhere quiet and candlelit on the water. You barely tasted the lobster ravioli. You just kept looking at him like he might disappear again.

But he didn’t.

Because the next thing you knew, you were half-asleep on a private plane, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” you murmured.

“Texas,” he said, without looking up from his phone.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then finally, “I bought a ranch outside Dallas. Wanted you to see it.”

You blinked. “Why Dallas?”

Rafe turned to you slowly, then nodded toward the window where dawn was starting to break.

“It’s called the Y/N Rose Ranch,” he said. “Had the sign custom made. You’ll see it when we land.”

And he said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like naming property after you was a Tuesday afternoon decision.

Like he owned the whole world—and now, you.

Taglist: @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @vogueprincess @faistingmymike @greengoblinswifey @whinyangel @blackynsupremacy @rafesbabygirlx @memoirofasparklemuff1n @cameronsbabydoll @rafeyscumangel @rafeyscumangel-recs

[cynomain69]

i cant believe sethos is debuting on a haitham banner!!

[lamefish]

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

[xcherryc2x]

Feeling bored at a sleepover……help dilf Kento Nanami get rid of his stress!!!

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Nanami x femreader Wordcount: 2.6k

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁

“Still want more doll?”

He’s brushing your hair out of your face so he can see what he’s done to you. You’re a mess, beyond exhausted at this point

He loves to look at your flushed face while he grips your sweaty hips to keep ramming his veiny cock in you mercilessly, you can’t even keep count of how many many times his cum has filled you to the brim

You feel like a constant stream of your cum is also covering his dick causing your insides to make dirty noises as his cock slides in and out each time

Your whole body is getting over sensitive and you can’t feel your legs anymore. your nipples hurt and your clit is so swollen that everytime he thrusts through your dripping folds, you can feel it there at that spot

“you’ve been such a good girl for me”

You’re just whimpering in response

“t-too…f-fast sir” you say breathless. You try to keep speaking but each thrust is more powerful than the last making it extremely difficult to talk

“Cmon use your words sweetheart”

he’s twisting your puffy nipples in attempt to make you speak up

it clearly won’t work since your voice is almost gone, no sounds come out when you open your mouth to moan from the painful pleasures

He loves the way you can’t do anything but keep your delicate hands wrapped around his neck above his back filled with scratches as he carelessly goes faster and deeper so he can finish inside of you one more time

you remember when this started, Nanami was fucking you at the perfect speed, hitting your sweet g spot, really taking his time with you, but now he was going animalistic, acting like he would only be satisfied if your insides are bruised and battered

During the first couple rounds he also tried not to get his semen inside, trying to come up with good reasons as to why he shouldn’t shoot his seed in to you, but the way you were so easy to keep fucking, all that logical thinking cleared out from his mind

He was venting out all his stressful emotions by having long rough sex with you. Your poor pussy the ultimate victim and winner

you really had awakened a feral monster inside in him

it all started when…

A sleepover at your best friend’s house was always fun, you loved when she asked you to stay the night and told you that it’s only her and her dad at home

You have been obsessed with her father, Kento Nanami for a while, you just love his gentleman personality and you get so horny around him it’s uncontrollable.

In the middle of the night you find yourself at Nanami’s bedroom door…

you can’t believe what your about to do. You just can’t. You walk in to the dimly lit room ,but you thankfully jerk yourself back to knock before entering

*knock *knock

You hear him respond quietly, you get chills down your spine

“…yes, come in”

you open the door, your nipples are hard and visible through your thin top, decorated with lace and a baby pink colour

You reach behind you and pull down your matching shorts quickly, you knew half of your ass was out.

You slowly creep inside

“u-um sir”

you look at Nanami, he has a confused expression that’s only toned down by his dark under eye circles and sunken face

“could you please turn the heat up…I feel very cold” you asked in your sweetest voice possible

he shot a quick glance to your breasts. He saw the way they were naturally perked up and your nipples poked through the skimpy fabric

His eyes trail down to your lower body, settling on your hips and thighs for a moment too long. He had definitely realized you came with no undergarments on

Nanami tried to calm down and control himself, this wasn’t a time to act like a teenage boy and get a hard on

“*cough* ahem..yeah sure no problem”

you could tell he was surprised to see you here like this, I mean it was pretty cold but you were there for something else, you hoped he had gotten the hint by now

he looked dreamy, but tired. everything about him was so attractive to you even when it shouldn’t be.

Nanami gets up from his desk chair and you feel your face getting flushed he was so handsome, you’ve never seen his buff body in casual comfortable clothes.

He heads out of the room and downstairs to check on the thermostat

you are feeling confident that you must have had some sort of effect on him, you take a seat on his bed, feeling your plush bottom sink into the mattress under the soft covers

He walks back in and lets you know that he increased the heat and it should be fine now.

“you need anything else?” He asks, rubbing his eyebrows and seeming annoyed

“. . .”

“It’s pretty late, you should get back to bed”

He doesn’t look towards you but his presence is quite intimidating

He’s standing towering over you. He was avoiding your alluring gaze… you might have been intentionally giving him bedroom eyes this whole day…

“so…uh if there is nothing else—“

you cut him off

“I-I just…wanted to—“

Then he cuts you off…but how does he cut you off?

by pushing you back where your sitting making you lay on your back and getting on top of you

You heart was beating at an alarming speed. Your body was getting squished underneath him

“Is this what you want hm?” he says while his hand is between your legs. You’re breath hitched as his finger enters your wet pussy.

He adds another thick finger inside, applying pressure as he moves his fingers in and out

“so wet for me?”

“yes ngggh”

You let out small moans and move your hips up as he continues.

“You’ve got no panties on sweetheart…now you’ve ruined your shorts”

He was right, they were drenched in the bottom area from how much your pussy was leaking. You are melting in his embrace

He circles his middle finger on you’re clit making you feel like you were flying. you were so close to cumming when he increased his speed but then all of a sudden he stopped adrubtly taking his fingers out, dripping with your pussy juice

Whispering in your ear

“But I wouldn’t exactly call these shorts, they weren’t covering anything”

He gently pulls them off gliding his big hands down your legs. He lifts you up by the waist keeping you under him and moving to the centre of his king sized bed.

You wanted him to continue playing with your clit, you were so close to release.

His hot breath lingered on your throat as you feel his lips sucking the skin. that was gonna leave a mark :3

He plops you down and you’re head hits the pillow. You look at him and he’s already taking off his clothes. Leaving only his white undershirt on. His arm muscles flexing with every movement

“please keep going” you say shamelessly

“you’re not the only one who likes to tease doll” his low laughing is followed by a third finger, quickly swallowed by your greedy cunt

soon after working his magic, you cum on his hand, feeling hungry and empty for more

Just then you saw something that made you realize you might be making a mistake…Nanami’s dick was so big, his boxers were having a hard time keeping it in

You could see a dark spot of precum in his boxers. He takes them off too allowing you to see the full length

“s-sir it’s …so big” your eyes widened and you chocked on your spit

As if what you said was expected, he slightly smirks and takes his huge hard cock in his hands and rims your hole with his glistening tip.

He hold your legs up, spreading them a bit more, making room for himself

“so you don’t want it baby?”

Oh no you do want it so with a desperate look on your face you say

“no, I want it”

He chuckles under his breath

“Hm that’s what I like to hear”

you gasped when he put just the tip in. He’s slowly and gently trying to get the rest of it into your pulsing cunt.

It sounds like your in pain the way your squirming, arching your head back and whimpering

Even tho he had previously loosened you up with 3 fingers, the length and thickness of his cock was at a whole other level

“Be a good girl…I know you can take it” he coos, concentrating on trying to get your pussy open from deep inside, enough to start moving

Once it’s all in you take deep breaths feeling so filled up, his thick cock is being pressed by your inner walls, driving him crazy

“see that’s it, how does it feel?” He says while letting go of one of your thighs and rubbing his hand across your stomach, his hand was so rough but gentle enough to feel heavenly

“feels…good” you say looking up at him, with doe eyes, wanting this moment to last

“would you like me to keep going sweetheart?”

“y-yes please” you really want this. You love the way there was no empty space in you, even deep inside

He leans in to whisper to you

“…what a naughty girl” he smiles hugging you close. you get a whiff of his natural scent and it sends you into orbit

you just want him to start fucking you already

He starts thrusting, and you wrap your arms around his neck trying to brace yourself for how his rock hard cock is forcing its way in and out

But you were amazed at how gentle he was, this feeling was unfamiliar to you of course and you reacted accordingly

Just after not even a minute, you legs lock up around him and by the spasms, he can tell you just came.

he takes his cock out, slick with strings of your cum. As of this moment, he wants to make love with you without getting you overwhelmed

Treating your precious pussy like the flower it is, he leans down and kisses your wet folds, making you put your hands on his soft blond hair, pulling his head more in. He’s squeezing your thighs with his big hands turning them red from his tight grip

He sucks on your clit, kissing it with passion.

His toungue was gliding up and down the area making you lose your mind, but his main focus was getting you to calm down. Allowing your pussy to completely relax so you could loosen up. He wants to prepare for the damage his cock will cause

In Nanami’s experience, it was a quite a lengthy process usually involving fingering, oral sex and very slow penetration due to the size of his monster cock

He is soooo good at eating you out…a little too good

“unnnngggh…sir i n-need to go to the bathroom”

Were you gonna cum or piss, you weren’t sure but Nanami backs away to your request and just as he’s about to react further…

You squirt on his face, a stream of fluid flowing with so much force from your pussy that it lands right on Kento Nanami’s face, missing his eyes since he closed them

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know what—“ oh shit, you think to yourself, what did you do ??

He silently just takes off his undershirt wiping his face and before you know it he grabs your knees spreading them apart aggressively and with no warning he rams his throbbing cock into the mess between your legs

“Oh you’re in for it now sweetheart” his facial expression is unreadable but his demeanour changed

You try to catch your breath as he continues thrusting real hard into you, you can see how his face relaxes more and starts looking refreshed. You on the other hand, fet like you were being broken in two

You were hugging him so tight that everytime you felt move his dick deeper and deeper, you couldn’t stop making noises, you dug your face deep into his neck, to muffle your moans

“don’t be shy doll…let your voice out, I don’t mind”

You tilt your head back, rolling your eyes back and curling your toes. You were about to climax once again

You cum quickly, this time Nanami doesn’t stop to comfort you, he just groans and and moves faster due to your clenching and tightening.

Your hole seems to be squeezing down on him too much, he lifts your leg up and lets your knee bend over his shoulder,

“s-stop it’s too much” you exclaim

You were scratching his back leaving red marks all over, but the way he was so keen on continuing made you feel so wanted

“Sweetheart, p-please let me keep going”

He had a pleading look on his face that really made you forget how your swollen cunt was being stretched out more than it should by his girthy cock. You were gonna be soooo loose after this

You just hug him tighter making your tits and hips rub against him with a lot of friction from each thrust

Both of your bodies were over heating and overworked from how hard Nanami was fucking you.

Your nipples were getting redder from rubbing against him, starting to even hurt from the sensitivity

Nanami was about to come inside but his second thoughts made him pull out and shoot his load onto your rising and falling stomach

The room echoed with his heavy breathes and your moans. You must have orgasmed again right with him and it seemed to have done a number on you

You couldn’t think clearly, the sex was so amazing your mind was so clouded you didn’t realize Nanami was talking to you while laying his head on your tits

He was telling you how missionary was the best position to fuck you in cuz he can’t get enough of that cute face of yours and the expressions you make each time he moves his dick in and out

he brings his hand close to one of your swollen nipples…and flicks it “n-not there” you squeak

“These have been wanting attention since you first came to me hm”

He pushes himself up feeling sticky as he realizes his cum on your tummy got on him too

His strong hands were on both sides of you making you feel small

He starts sucking on both of your nipples occasionally squeezing your fat tits

His mouth was doing most of the work. You felt so overstimulated, your cum was still spilling out of your hole onto the mattress and now the sensitivity of how Nanami’s toungue was swirling around such sensitive areas was making you reach your limits

You hadn’t forgot about how your squirted earlier that was quite embarrassing you might say but in Nanami’s opinion it turned him on so much he could not long be patient and gentle with you.

Nanami also kisses your soft pink lips, it sends you over the edge, you are tingling all over. He’s putting all his affection into this deep wet kiss, that seems to have you gasping for air once he backs up

“you are so sweet all over princess”

“Mmmmnnggh”

The kiss was long but now you were sleepy. a good fuck like that would make you sleep like a baby

Little did you know nanami was just gonna keep asking for more and more, his voice filled with affection hiding his lusftful intent. But you so glad you finally were able to have sex with him…you think to yourself, he will probably stop soon…right?

you couldn’t be more wrong

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁

[emmyrosee]

“Get ready with me to breakup with my fiancé-“

“BUUUUUULLSHIT YOU ARE!”

Immediately, as soon as your first words are uttered over the recording video, Rintaro’s booms down the hallway. You laugh and smack your hand on the counter, trying to keep it as quiet as you can as you hear him continue to yell.

“THE FUCK YOU THINK THIS IS? WE’RE LOCKED IN, WHAT THE FUCK!” Socked feet barrel down the hall and you’re quick to hide the camera behind a bottle of mouthwash. His body quickly comes into the frame, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “You got something you want to tell me?”

You pull your lips down in thought before shaking your head, “no. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Oh!” He says dramatically, clapping his hands together. “So you’re just always talking about dumping me to your little Internet friends?”

“Only in my fantasies,” you hum, tossing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pouts, and you giggle and kiss him again, “but if I ever do decide to dump you, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

This, has him blinking unamused at you. Then, his hands leap up to grab your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a loud, wet kiss, his lips pressing kisses over your laughing mouth, teeth, and lips. “Listen to me.”

“Rinnie!”

“No. Shush. Listen to me.” He pulls back and rests his head against yours, hands still squishing your cheeks. “I have shit out an engagement ring for you. I have your name tattooed on me. I got clawed to death by your rat fuck cat, and I have a shirt with your face on it that I wear when I go out. We’ve shared a toothbrush, you pinch my nipple when I’m showering, you text me and ask me if I’ve pooped, and I know damn well you take ugly pictures of me when I’m sleeping.”

“Your point?”

His nostrils flare, “you so much as THINK this relationship is ending, I’m going to tattle on you.”

“Oh, please-“

“To Komori.”

This, has you paling, and you nod softly and gently grab his shoulders, “no, okay, you’re right, you’re right baby, I’m sorry.” He nods as you press a kiss to his lips, “but in all seriousness-“

“Oh, I’m serious, too.”

You snicker, “in my seriousness, I’m never going to leave you.” You flash your engagement ring to the camera and purse your lips out, and he smiles down at you. “who else is going to poop out a ring, then lie to the salesman about why we’re returning it, and get me a new one, hmm?”

“Thankfully, I’m the only one who will.” He kisses your forehead, then looks at you with sad eyes. “We’re locked in?”

“Yeah baby,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “We’re locked in.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

I would love a take on boyfriend Ghost coming home to surprise you, but he finds your bed empty and doesn't realize that you are in his room in his bed. Thanks.

The placebo effect, was what he kept trying to convince you it had to be, no matter how many times you rolled your eyes and told him he was wrong

How else could one explain your insistence that Simon’s bed smelled so much like him, becoming your safe space when he was away on long deployments, when he only ever slept with you in your bed most nights to begin with

Hard to believe it was nearly three years ago now that you’d told your friend since childhood, Johnny, about how your search for a new flat was going miserably. You remember how he’d perked up and recounted with a mischievous glint in his eye about how his Lieutenant was apparently searching for a flat mate at the moment, someone who’d be looking after the place while he was away for work

Unsure about living with a strange man you’d never met before, but trusting Johnny’s judgement (though the way he seemed just a bit too eager about this meeting did kind of throw you off-) you had reluctantly agreed to meet with him and at least give the flat a glance before you simply turned him down

It wasn’t until you were knocking at the door of the address Johnny had written down for you, that you’d realized he’d never even given you the man’s goddamn name, only ever referring to him at Lieutenant or LT

Johnny apparently also failed to mention the absolute SIZE of the guy, his huge frame blocking nearly all of the light from behind him as he had swung the door open and stood in the doorway before you

In a slight panic, thrown off by the massive man before you and the way the butterflies in your stomach suddenly began to flutter at the sight of him, you had greeted him for the first time with a squeaky, unsure voice saying ‘Um, hi, are you the Mr Lieutenant?’ (something he has never let you live down since)

He knew then and there that you would be the one

Not just his flatmate (though what a generous flatmate he was when he offered insisted on moving all your boxes out of your old place and into his that very same day), but the one, something he reluctantly had to give Soap credit for, seeing as he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking his ear off about you

You would be his other half, his better half

And all these years later, the two bedroom flat truly only acted as a one bedroom, considering that from the start Simon was always falling into your bed with you at the end of each night, limbs tangled together under the warmth of a lovers embrace a thousand times more comforting than an actual comforter

Still though, that first time Simon had to be gone for work longer than a few weeks, you found the lingering odor of him clinging to his bedsheets to be one of the few things keeping you sane in his absence, taking to sleeping in his room for the time being, imagining that the pillow you cling to your front was a strong muscular arm instead, littered in scars and tattoos you feel confident you could recognize from touch alone

And when his long awaited flight back home to you landed a few hours earlier than expected, tires touching down in the dark, stillness of late night hour, he decided he’d surprise you and come straight home, rather than calling you to meet him at the base like you’d insisted, not wanting to wake you

Barely able to contain himself, he decided the elevator ride up to the seventh floor would take too long, take away precious seconds that brought him closer to you, and so up the flight of stairs he went, taking them two or three at a time, rushing to see the face etched behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, to hear the voice that haunted his dreams each night

Quietly as a man his size could, he crept into the flat, snuck his way into your room, expecting to see your sweet, sleeping form cuddled up amongst the blankets and pillows. But his heart dropped when he noticed the bed was still perfectly made, not a thread out of place.

Trying to remain calm, though his mind was instantly swarming with every possible scenario that could have taken place, he knew he saw your shoes and jacket by the door, you couldn’t have gone far… but where were you?

He glanced into the living room, wondering if he missed you sleeping on the couch after a long day, he poked his head into the bathroom, even went so far as to check the small balcony, but finally there was only one door left to open.

And there you were, safe and sound, a tiny ball curled up into the center of his huge bed, clinging to one of his old masks and holding it close to your chest as though it were a security blanket (you’d been sleeping in his bed so much you needed something that still smelled strongly of him, you were getting desperate)

Stripping himself down to only his boxers, he tiptoed towards the side of the bed, his mind finally feeling more at peace than he ever had, gently pulling the sheets back just enough for him to slip in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you into his muscular chest

Though it should be alarming to suddenly feel a pair of hands roaming over your skin, a body holding you firmly against their own, it’s as though your body knows who it is before your mind does

Any tension you were still holding onto during his absence instantly melts away, your own hands coming to land over top of his, giving a slight squeeze of acknowledgment, not yet willing to fully leave your half asleep state, but needing to touch him, to confirm he really is here

“Hmm,” You hum, voice groggy with sleep and a smile slowly stretching across your lips, snuggling further into his embrace. “You’re home.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, wishing he could bottle up the scent of your shampoo and lotions and perfumes, if only to have something to hold onto while he’s away, understanding now why he found you in this bed rather than your own

“I am.” He whispers into your hair, sensing that you’re already drifting back into dream land, safe in his arms and his bed, knowing he’ll be there when you wake. He feels his chest tighten when he knows that you weren’t talking about the fact that he’s physically home, in the flat, but something more, something much more, because he means the same thing when he tells you, “You’re my home too, love.”

[moonsgemini]

nobody knows - rafe cameron

summary: a secret relationship between the kook king the sweet innocent kook & bathroom sex

warnings: 18+, cursing, reader being jealous, alcohol, SMUT, slight choking, semi public sex, pinv

an: hiiii hope y’all enjoy <3 this is a lil shorter than my usual stuff. I need drew starkey bad !! Might turn this into it’s own lil universe

-

This party was going to kill you. The scene in front of you calling for you to do something irrational. It was almost as if he wanted you to accidentally spill wine on Lindsey’s head.

The way her hand constantly found a place on his bicep has you gripping your glass a little tighter. The friendly smile on Rafe’s lips not helping ease your jealousy. Neither was the way he kept leaning down so he could hear her better, as if they were at a rave. It was a fairly small party for crying out loud there was no need for that.

If you had super powers the entire back yard would be lit up in flames with the way you were glaring at the pair. Of course he also wore that shirt you loved on him. The one you had mentioned on multiple occasions that it was your favorite.

You wished you could go over there and yank him down by the collar and smush your lips against his. Let everyone know that it’s your name he’s moaning at night and his lips and body that have your coming undone almost every night.

You wished everyone knew exactly what was going on between the two of you. Then you wouldn’t have to disguise your jealousy as a head ache. You knew it was because of you that the two of you snuck around but you’re starting to want things to change. You couldn’t stand the sight of your man giving another woman attention.

“Garrett is such a dick I can’t believe I didn’t dump him sooner,” Your friend Nessa mumbled.

You hummed and nodded in agreement while finishing off the last of your wine. Not really paying attention to what your friend was saying.

“You’ve been quiet today. More than usual, all good?” Nessa asked.

You nodded, “Yeah just have a head ache again.”

“Then lets get you another glass, being drunk will help with that,” Nessa grabbed your hand. She led you back over to the small cocktail bar that was set up which was right past Rafe and Lindsey.

As the pair of you passed them you pretended not to see Rafe. Obviously Rafe’s eyes followed you, not really paying attention to whatever the girl in front of him had been yapping about.

He was trying this new thing where he wasn’t going to be an asshole to people. Unless they deserved it obviously, but it was really fucking hard when all he wanted to do was talk to you. The old him would have just ditched her mid sentence but that’s not who he wanted to be.

He watched as you poured yourself some more wine, your friend going on about something as you nodded along. His pretty girl always being the best listener.

After a minute you said something to your friend before walking into the house. After a few seconds Rafe said something about going to the bathroom and left the babbling blonde behind. He didn’t care he wanted to find you.

When he stepped inside he saw your half empty wine glass on the kitchen counter. He walked down the hall to the guest bathroom and knocked.

“I’ll be out in a minute Ness!” You shouted from behind the door.

“It’s Rafe,” he said.

The locked clicked and the door opened to reveal your pretty frame. You had chosen to wear that dress he loves in the color he loves on you. He wasn’t the only one who chose what they’re wearing for a specific reason. You poked your head out and looked both ways before tugging him inside by the collar of his shirt. He chuckled at your antics

“Don’t you think it looks more suspicious if we’re in here together?” He smirked with a raised brow. In all honesty he didn’t really give a fuck if people saw you two together but he knows you aren’t ready.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like you were flirting it up out there with Lindsey.”

His smirk widened at the realization that you were jealous. He liked how around everyone you were always sweet and polite, sometimes even a little timid. But with him it was a different story. He loved the way you talked back to him and rolled your eyes at him. He loved the dirty things that sweet innocent mouth said to him when he was relentlessly fucking you.

“You jealous baby?” He stepped forward so the small of your back hit the counter.

Your scowl deepened as you crossed your arms, “No.”

He reach up stroked your cheek gently. His eyes going down to your lips, “You being a tough girl now. Come on baby you know she doesn’t have anything on you.”

Your scowl softened, “Well it doesn’t matter because it’s not like she knows that.”

Rafe leaned forward and kissed your cheek then your jaw and continued his way down to your pulse point, “I’ll let her know, we can let everyone know princess. I can fuck you right here right now.”

You gasped at his words and at the scrape of his teeth on the sensitive skin of your neck, “Rafe,” you practically moaned.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too opposed to that,” His finger slipped under your dresses strap and pulled it down. His lips kissing the newly exposed skin as he went down to your chest, “Make you scream my name as I bend you over.”

You wanted to talk back to him but you couldn’t as your eyes fluttered shut. His hands had moved down your waist and to your thighs. Slowly dragging his fingertips up them until he plucked at your stringy underwear letting it snap back against your skin. He made you such an incoherent mess and you loved it.

With everything in you you mustered back a reply, “You sure you want Lindsey to hear.”

He chuckled against the top of your breasts that were exposed. His fingers now pressing against your wet clothed cunt.

“It seems like you want her to hear baby,” He pressed his fingers against your clit and rubbed soft circles, “look at how wet you are huh. My dirty girl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the sensation. His fingers slipped under your tiny panties and he slid them through your sopping cunt and groaned against your neck, “God I love how you feel.”

You tugged his face up to meet your desperate eyes as you pulled him in for a kiss. You both moaned at the feeling. You loved when Rafe fucked you but you loved kissing him even more. His fingers picked up the pace a little against your throbbing clit. You could feel your wetness dripping down your legs.

“Please let me fuck you right here baby,” He mumbled against your lips, “I’ll do it so good. I’ll make you cum all over my cock.”

That whole being more nice thing Rafe was working on never applied to you. You were probably the only person on the island who had ever heard the kook king say please and thank you. Sometimes he even practically begged to fuck you or eat you out. You lived for it. It made your skin tingle and your tummy flutter.

You nodded your head, “Yes Rafey.”

He pulled his fingers away from you and practically shoved them into your mouth. You loved it though, tasting yourself on his long thick fingers. Your tongue licking them clean. He bit his lip and groaned with hooded eyes. Rafe was utterly obsessed with you.

He pulled his fingers out with a pop and leaned in capturing your mouth in his in another searing kiss. It was sloppy and made your head spin. He pulled away spinning you around. Your hands landed on the counter to steady yourself as he hiked your dress up to your waist.

Rafe gave your ass a firm squeeze and took a few seconds to admire you on this position. He loved that he could still see your pretty face in the mirror, he could see just how fucked you were for him. Your swollen lips, hooded eyes, and messy hair all because of him. It made his heart beat faster and his ego grow. He loves that no one else has known you in this way until he came around.

You watched as he began to undo his pants and pull his thick cock out. You whimpered at the sight of him stroking himself a few times. Grabbing the tiny string of your panties he pulled it to the side before lining himself up with you.

“You’re a fucking dream,” He groaned as he slipped his tip in. The warm wetness of your pussy making him throw his head back. Slowly he slotted himself in you. The feeling of you clenching around him already getting him so close.

“Fuck you’re coming home with me,” He groaned as he began moving in and out.

You nodded with hazy lust filled eyes. You’d do anything he asked of you. The feeling of him stretching you out was out of this world. You didn’t understand how he was always able to hit that spot that had your back arching and mouth forming into an o.

He fucked you as quietly as he could. Rafe didn’t give a fuck if people heard but he knew you did. It’s not like you were embarrassed of Rafe and he knew that. It would just make things complicated if people knew. There’d be constant prying and knit picking at everything you two did and how you acted.

“Oh Rafe,” you mumbled standing up so your back was against his chest. He groaned and wrapped one of his hands around your throat. Your head fell back against his shoulder.

Rafe’s other hand found it’s way to your chest. He pinched one of your nipples and squeezed your breast. He did the same thing to the other one before sliding down your stomach and to your clit. He rubbed circles as he continued to thrust into you.

He moved the hand that was around your throat to hold your jaw. Tugging your head down to look in the mirror.

“You see that baby, He nodded towards your reflection, “see how good you look when I’m inside you. My girl takes me so damn well.”

“I-I mmmph oh Rafe,” you mumbled incoherently but he knew what you were trying to say. He could tell you were close by the way you tightened around him and the way you dripping down him.

“I know,” He groaned, “I’m there too.” A loud moan began escaping you but rafe moved his hand up quickly to cover your mouth.

“Shit look at you, no one will ever compare. Fuck I’m all yours,” He grunted.

Your moans were muffled by his big hand as you came. He wasn’t farm behind as he buried his face in your neck as he came inside you.

“Well we’ve never done that before,” you giggled.

He huffed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure we’ve done that plenty of times before.”

You shook your head, “We’ve never done it in a bathroom at a party.”

He smirked as he pulled out of you and adjusting your clothes for you. He gave your ass a gentle slap, “I should make you jealous more often.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him, “So what if I was jealous.”

He kissed you, “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m yours.”

You smiled softly as your heart swelled, “Rafe maybe we should tell people.”

His eyes widened slightly, “Really?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement, “mhmm I want to go on dates here in town. I want to be the one who has your attention all night and when I get too drunk you drive me home.”

He smiled, “Sounds perfect.”

After fixing yourselves to look presentable again you opened the door and led Rafe out not really thinking. But before you could even step through the doorway you were face to face with Lindsey who had a scowl on her face.

“Finally,” she rolled her eyes but then she saw the person standing behind you, “oh that’s where you disappeared to?” that scowl never leaving her.

Rafe nodded with a smirk, “My girl needed me.”

You blushed as you stepped past her with Rafe’s hand in yours with smiles plastered on both your faces.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Out Of His League

Boaz Priestly x Reader

Summary: You make him a deal, he shows you his secret and you show him yours.

Warnings: clit piercing, language, fluffy Boaz, oral (female receiving), making out, feeling up, nipple piercings

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

—————————————————————————

“Did it hurt?” Tish asked as you were rolling silverware in napkins together. Priestly was behind you both talking with Piper while half ass ease dropping on your conversation.

“Well duh Trish, you’re getting a needle stabbed in a sensitive area, it didn’t feel great.” You both giggle, “but it was so worth it.”

This got Priestley’s attention, “what are you two girls talking about?”

Trish shot him a glare over her shoulder, “nosy much?”

“Wow… okay Trish.” He turned back to his conversation with Piper.

You felt bad. You know he’s always kind of had. Thing for Trish and she won’t give him a second glance with the crazy hair and all the piercings he has. Trish likes pretty boys. She also enjoys using them and proving they are as dumb as they are pretty.

Some days you wonder if your friend is ever going to settle down and find herself a nice guy.

Priestly is sweet, kind, funny, and original. Is he a little out there? Sure, but at least he’s himself. You find that attractive in his own sort of way. If you’re being honest, he’s probably the perfect boyfriend.

—————————————————————————

Tonight you and Priestly are locking up. He’s wiping down tables and you count the till and close down the register.

Curiosity is getting the better of him though. He has to know if he was right about what you and Tosh were talking about earlier.

“So what hurt to get done y/n?”

Looking up from your count you are shocked he even still remembers the earlier conversation.

Smirking at him you figure why not flirt a little, “wouldn’t you like to know big guy.”

“Yes… yes I would. I think I know but I want to hear you say it.”

“Whys that?”

He struts over to the counter, leaning against it. Cleaning tables forgotten at the moment, “because I don’t peg you as the type of girl who would do something so daring.”

Laughing you go back to your counting, “oh I’m full of surprises Priestly.”

“There’s no way.”

“No way what?” You look at him through your lashes adding the charm a little thick.

He looks like he half believes you and half thinks you’re screwing with him. A girl like you getting that pierced, there’s no way that would happen.

“Tell you what Priestly, you tell me your first name and I’ll tell you what I got that hurt, deal?”

Groaning he turns back to his previous task, “nope, no way in hell.”

For some reason he refuses to tell us his first name. You have no idea why but you do know that it would curb his curiosity for a minute or two.

—————————————————————————

Three weeks go by and Priestly has been staring at you every chance he can, like he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you and what you could have done. He hasn’t asked you again but he knows the price he has to pay to get the answers he wants.

You’re closing with him again that night and finally he can’t take not knowing anymore. You’re in the back room tidying up when he walks up behind you scaring the shit out of you, “Boaz. My first name is Boaz.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that!” You smack his arm as you walk past to put stuff in the garbage.

You take a deep breath before turning around. A deals a deal, “I got my clit pierced.”

His mouth drops open and you can’t help but giggle. Besides your ears you don’t have any visible piercings and you don’t talk about the ones you do have. Beside past boyfriends, no one knows about them.

“If it helps I also have had my nipples pierced for a few years now.” You shrug as you continue moving around the room. Boaz is rooted in place, trying to process what you’ve just told him.

His brain is misfiring though and all the blood has started pumping to his cock as he thinks about the image you placed in his mind.

You’re walking past him again, enjoying the look on his face when he reaches out and grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

“What are you doi-,” he cuts you off with a heated kiss. You can’t help but moan as his tongue licks into your mouth fighting for dominance with yours. His hands grab your waist and pull you flush to his hard body.

When you make contact with his hard dick he groans and leans his forehead against yours, “that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard y/n.”

You don’t respond, head dizzy from the kiss you just shared. Instead you take his lips again and kiss him hard.

He spins you around and lifts you up onto the table behind you without breaking your kiss.

Hands explore your body as you make out in the break room. When he softly rubs his thumb o er your nipples you throw your head back with a moan.

The piercings make them extra sensitive.

Smiling he does it again just to watch your pleasure from such a simple touch, “has anyone played with your clit since you got it pierced.”

“No.”

Rubbing your nipples again, “think it’s as sensitive as these ones?”

Looking into those list blown eyes you smirk as you respond, “only one way to find out Boaz.”

—————————————————————————

“Mmm… fuck Boaz…” he wasn’t wrong that piercing was the best investment I made. Either that or Boaz is a sex god no one ever knew about. The way his tongue is twisting and rubbing your piercing just right has you dripping for him.

This is orgasm number three he is pulling from your trembling, wrecked body and he doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

Once he’s worked you through the last of it, he comes up for air. Kissing you so you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

There is something that turns you on about tasting yourself on the lips of a man. Maybe it's the fact that he enjoyed every minute of getting you off numberous times, or maybe it's just the fact that you have claimed him in a way and made him yours, at least for a moment.

Boaz Priestly was a sweet, funny, slightly out there kind of guy. He always had a knack for macking you feel better on those shitty days. You never thought you'd hook up with him though.

"I never heard my first name sound so good than when you're moaning it for me to hear."

You straighten up and fix your clothes. Giving him another kiss, you wink as you speak, "you know my secret and I know yours now. Promise I won't tell a soul."

You go to walk away but he stops you, "where do you think you're going?"

"Home."

"Awe that's cute sweetheart, I am far from finished with my girl."

You give him a puzzling look, "you're girl? Not that I'm not flattered but I kinda always thought you wanted Tish."

"Don't get me wrong, Tish is cute but you're the real prize y/n. You've never judged me. Always there for me when I need a friend. Hell you're beautful as fuck and you make me laugh. Knowing now that you have a kinky side and piercings of your own means that maybe I stand a slight chance with a girl like you." He's staring at the ground as he talks, gone is the cocky guy who was just making you scream his name repeatedly in the back room of your workplace, it's now replaced with a guy who seems to nervous for the man you have grown to love.

"Boaz, did you think you were out of my league or something?"

All he does is nod his head.

"You silly boy. I don't care about looks. If I'm being honest I love your style. You are 100% confident in who you are and express yourself through your style. You are funny, charming, and yes a little wild, but you were never out of my league."

Green eyes meet you y/e/c ones as he processes what you just confessed to him. You can't help but softly smile at the man in front of you.

God he's adorable.

Leaning in you kiss his lips gentle and take his hand, "come on, my man has more fun in store exploring what this piercing can do to me." You send him a wink as you lead him to the back door and into the night.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day you and Priestly walk into work hand in hand. You're both holding your breath as your coworkers look at you both. Within minutes hoots and hollers can be heard as they all congratulate you.

"About damn time you two." Tish says with a smile on her face as she wraps you up into a hug.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

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[mywritersmind]

THEY DONT KNOW IT - LN4

summary : She’s a popstar who’s being oggled by the same grid who doesn’t believe Lando has a chance with her. In a simple quiet conversation, Lando fixes that.

listen up : lando norris x popstar!reader. mentions of sex. reader wrote bed chem!!

word count : 629

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“You hear who’s in the paddock today?” Oscar eyes Lando as he joins the group of drivers. They all look suspiciously giddy.

“No…?” Lando eyes them, It’s Carlos who’s grinning and speaks up first.

“Y/n L/n.” the spaniard whispers.

Lando raises a brow as Alex nods to his girlfriend talking to you, “She’s a super famous singer right? Lily loves her.”

“Very pop.” Charles adds in.

“Very hot.” Franco says as they all turn to him, “What? You were all thinking it.” a surge of jealousy goes through Lando. Obviously he knows people think you’re hot, he’s the fan club president. But Franco saying it makes him want to go over there and kiss you in front of the young driver.

Lando watches you move your hair behind your ear, assessing the little black dress you’ve got on. “Fuck.” is the only think Yuki can say.

“Hasn't she been to a couple races?” George adds, “For any reason or…” Lando wants to yell at them that you’re there for him.

“She’s a fan.” Charles says, “Hangs with Alex in the garage sometimes.”

You wonder if they know how obviously the group is looking at you. You turn and give them a little smile. Most of the guys look away except Lando, who waves.

“What the fuck?” Carlos makes a face.

“Dude-” Max laughs as Lando looks around at the group.

“What?”

“Give up now.” Alex shrugs.

“Excuse you?” Lando crosses his arms over his racing suit, “You think I don’t have a chance?” They all start laughing, “Fuck you, lot!”

Alex grins, “Don’t let netflix hear.”

Carlos slaps his hand onto his friends shoulder, “Mate… she’s just so- and you’re so… it’s not made to be.”

Lando just scoffs, “Don’t pout!” Max laughs, “I’m pretty sure she’s the only girl out of your reach.”

“You don’t know about Nadia?” Alex grins.

Max gives him a confused look but turns back to Lando, except when he does, he realizes he’s already gone and walking towards you.

You smile when you see Lando, he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in for a quick hug, “Hi.” His eyes linger on you before smiling kindly at Lily.

“I’ll be back, Y/n. Lando keep your distance.” She points to the driver before walking away.

“The guys don’t think I have a chance with you.” He whispers into your ear, his hand still on your waist.

You laugh a bit, glancing at the men who are all staring at you two. “So naive.” he laughs a bit, tilting his head down.

A curl goes into his face and you resist the urge to push it back. “I’m happy you’re here.” this makes your cheeks go a bit pink. Funny, you’ve been sleeping together for months and he can say the tinest thing to get you to blush.

“I’m happy I'm here too. Win for me?”

“What do I get if I do?” His hand backs off your waist a bit, clearly aware of the eyes on you.

You look up at him, his eyes greener than ever, “Whatever you want?”

His brows go up, “Whatever?”

The corner of your mouth quirks, “Within reason.”

“Not much reason between the two of us.” You roll your eyes and back away from him so you’re no longer touching.

“Go run back to your friends and giggle about how a pretty girl kissed you.”

“But you didn’t-” He gets cut off by your lips on his cheek. He’s grinning ear to ear as you walk away, waving a bit.

When Lando walks back to the guys they’re gobsmacked, “Tell me you didn't just meet her today.” Charles practically pleads.

He laughs at their faces, “Have you ever heard the song, bed chem?”

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 28th. theodore nott. lorenzo berkshire — humiliation / degradation

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: never let enzo berkshire find out about one of your kinks. unless….

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, halloween ghostface costumes, threesome, fwb!theo, bestfriend!enzo, reader is involved in a bet unbeknownst to her, mask kink, humiliation on high, degradation, fingering, denied orgasm, oral m!rec, PIV, dirty talk, manipulation.

"Black cat mask?"

You shake your head, barely sparing the thing a glance.

"Mm, no. Too unoriginal."

"Right," Enzo sucks his teeth, tossing the mask back into the bin you're both half-heartedly rifling through. "Orange cat, then? That's far more fitting for you anyways."

"Enzo—no cats, please," you mutter, running a hand through your hair, staring down at the disheveled heap of plastic. None of it catches your eye, none of it sparks anything. "It's Halloween. I want something...scarier."

"Of course. Only day of the year you get to pretend you're as terrifying as me." He croons—half-laughing through the words. The tease itches in your mind, and you're halfway to some retort when he's already holding up another mask. "How about this one?"

You glance up, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense he's holding this time, but the sight of it stills the air in your lungs. A Ghostface mask. Stark white, hollow eyes staring back at you—it's grimace cast in a faded glow under tired shop lights. It's nothing—just a mask, just a piece of cheap plastic in Enzo’s hand—but your heart skips, stumbles, clutches at your ribs, and you can't look away.

And there's no goddamn reason for it, no logic—but you're already seeing it, aren't you? Your current fwb—Theo, standing over you; his face hidden, mask in place of those half-lidded eyes that you’ve learned to read so well. And you know—you know the thought is fucking absurd—yet, it knots something in your stomach, spreading heat like a fuse just lit.

"You alright there?" Enzo's teasing pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he'd been staring at you that entire time. "You're looking a little...hot."

Hot. Right. Of course he'd notice—of course your best friend would notice the way you went still, frozen in place as if someone struck you with Glacius. You're no good at lying to him, not even on a good day—and right now, your mind is in shambles, already too far gone into the fantasy and—

No. No more of this.

You tear away, fumbling for the edge of a cloak that suddenly seems like the most fascinating thing you've ever seen, your fingers tracing the fabric as if it can save you.

"It's...fine—it's nice," you blurt out, too quickly, too forced, the words tumbling over themselves. "Just—no, not really my thing."

But Enzo knows better. He can spot your lies from miles away. You hear him shift, the quiet rustle of the mask in his hands—and then, he's pulling it over his face, tilting his head just to spite you.

You don't have to look to know he's smirking behind it.

"Bullshit." He steps closer, casually closing the distance, but you know it's deliberate. "You're into this, aren't you?"

The warmth on your face feels like fire now, prickling heat across your skin. He shifts closer again, and for a moment you consider jinxing him—mind scattering into dark, unbidden places—filthy, wild things, flashing behind your eyes, too real. Enzo tilts his head the other way now, letting the mask catch the light, letting it grin.

"Should I get it?" He asks, as innocent as a serial killer. "For Nott, of course."

"No."

It scrapes out of your throat, barely audible, far too small to hold truth. You’re sure he can read you right now—all your depraved thoughts in the rasp of your voice, painfully transparent.

There’s a huff, a snort of sorts. "Are you sure? I think he'd love it."

Despite his insufferableness, he’s probably right. Theo has never shied away from indulging your kinks before. That’s what no strings is about. Maybe he would love it, you know you certainly would—gods how you’d love it—even if you’d rather die before admitting it.

The cloak—you focus on the deep purple velvet, the dark lace edging. "I'm sure. Put it back."

"You don't sound so sure." Gods, he's such an asshole—point only proved further as he takes another step closer. "Does this...does this turn you on?"

"Enzo—For Godric's sake, stop." The humiliation is suffocating. This is just a glimpse at your future should you ever decide to disclose this information to him. Relentless and bloody insufferable. "Let's just—pick something and go. Please?"

A pause, then, and you don't dare look up. The mask slips from his face with another soft, satisfied hum—you don't need to see him to feel the damage done. He knows.

"Sure, angel," he says, trailing as he turns. "Whatever you want."

————

"Matt—have you seen Theo?"

"Uh—not since earlier." Mattheo replies without even looking up, his focus on pouring another dangerous looking drink rather than on you. "He's probably just out for a smoke."

Yeah. Right. Forsure—because his smoke breaks last all bloody day. Doubt twists your stomach, but you nod anyway, grabbing your own drink—something bubbling, far too bright a green to be safe, but it burns down easy all the same. The room spins in a foggy haze, lights bleeding together over costumes, wizard and Muggle and something in between—and you struggle to tell who's who.

Theo had refused to tell you what he was dressing up as—claimed he wanted it to be a surprise. Now, that surprise is nowhere to be found.

"What are you supposed to be?" You raise a brow at Mattheo's striped inmate costume. “Your future?"

Riddle's eye flash as he pretends to be offended for about two seconds until his gaze drops to your own costume and his tongue darts over his lips, taking it in. Beer-maid, tight bodice, shorter than preferred. It's not what you were going for, not in the slightest, but it's all Pansy had in her closet to save you after you and Enzo failed to find anything interesting at the shop the other day.

"Maybe. But you definitely aren't dressed as yours." His attention shifts back to the crowd, a failed attempt at hiding his grin. "Way too much fabric."

You scoff, but that's just how Mattheo is—always a sly comment, always pushing. You roll your eyes and swat at him, but he sticks his tongue out at you and steps back, slipping off into the crowd with a final goodbye wink—and just as you lose track of him, Draco saddles up next to you, prattling on about something you don't care to listen to.

Great, that’s two annoying Slytherins accounted for. Where the fuck is Theo?

Five seconds into pretending to be interested in whatever Malfoy is babbling on about, you give up, turning back to the drink table and skimming over the options when someone new brushes up behind you—

"Enzo told me," the words barely register before you feel it—a hand settling low at your hip. "About your kink."

With lightening speed you twist your neck, glancing over your shoulder—only to fucking gasp at what you find there. That mask. The mask. The Ghostface one from the shop; the one Enzo hasn't let you forget, hasn't stopped teasing you about—you blink, your heart barrelling out of the room, fingers tightening around your cup until it hurts—

The mask tilts, just slightly. "Looks like he was right."

"Theo—"

"Go." His voice is muffled, but sweet Merlin—the sound of it makes your knees threaten to buckle right then and there. His hand slips lower, teasing against the ruffles of your dress. "Run, Bella. Let's play."

Your body locks up, muscles tense and poised on the edge of something feral. You can't look away. Can't think. Can't breathe. His fingers slip lower, lower, until you feel it—cold leather against the heat of your skin and your throat tightens, words dying dead on your tongue.

Run.

A slight lean, and the mask brushes your neck. "Now."

He steps back, a slow retreat, but it feels like he's tugging you with him. You spin to face him, smirking, your voice barely above a whisper—

"And when you catch me?"

"Find out." His head tilts toward the door. It's your cue.

Your feet move before your mind even catches up, slipping through the rowdy crowd, darting through the half-drunk revelers in their costumes—everything blurring into an afterthought as you push past the cobwebs, pumpkins, fake spiders, all the other Halloween decor filling the fogged ballroom. Your fingertips buzz from the adrenaline—pulse echoing in your ears as you dart down one hall after another, not quite sure where you're going, but knowing you need to keep moving.

Theo told you to run—so you run.

You sprint through the castle, the corridors empty save for your hurried footsteps and the scattered Halloween decorations lunging at you from the shadows. You round a corner, making for the dungeons. It's as good a place as any, right? Dark, quiet, somewhere to hide.

Few more minutes and you make it, lungs burning as you stumble into the dreary main hall. You realize the detention room is empty—and it's perfect. You take two steps inside, already thinking you'll be able to catch your breath when—

You slam headlong into something solid.

Head swirling, your vision barely refocuses before you feel a grip on your wrists, pulling you forward with enough force to make you gasp. Everything happens so fast you don't have enough time to process what's occurring before you're forced to focus on the thing you're seeing—ghostface. Staring down at you with those empty, gaping eyes. Unreadable.

It's then that you realize you're caught.

Something shifts behind the mask, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. You'd almost think you imagined it but given that there's nothing else to look at you know it's impossible. The silence is ballooning and you wonder if this is part of the game, if Theo is just savouring the moment, relishing in your reaction. The way you're trembling, your breath stuttering, the way you've gone still—waiting.

You swallow, throat drier than the Sahara, but something about this has you emboldened, the fact he's playing into your fantasy like this—so you decide to tease him, breaking the silence with a soft, breathless laugh as you pull one of your hands free from his grip.

He wanted to play. It's your turn to act the part.

"Looks like you caught me...Mr. Ghostface..." you purr—the silence sticks heavy, making the space between you feel thick, electric. All you can feel are his eyes devouring you. "And now...now that you've caught me...what are you gonna' do with me...hm?"

Gods—the thrill of this is so real, one your certain is more addictive than any drug. An adrenaline rush—not knowing what he's thinking, what he's about to do. Not being able to read him like you normally could. It makes your thighs quake—and there’s half a second where you wonder how much Enzo would pay to see this, how much he’d fucking taunt you for it.

But just as quickly as it came, you shake that thought—focused on Theo, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and sink to your knees, fingertips teasing from his chest to his abdomen, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

"...please don't punish me." You giggle—and the debauched absurdity of it all makes you nearly choke. "I'll be so good—I'll do anything, Theo—"

You feel him huff, tense, and when your fingers graze the front of his pants—just barely touching his crotch— his hand snaps down like a vice, gripping your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks.

And then, you hear it. "Salazar sakes—shit—"

Your heart plummets. That voice—it's like being thrown into ice-cold water. No, that's not—it can't be—

"Enzo?"

Your voice cracks as you all but screech, your head whipping up so fast you feel dizzy. No, no, no—

Enzo, who you previously thought was Theo, pulls the mask off and all but verbally confirms it. Your nightmare born to life. Spooling to fruition right in front of you. He smiles, lips curled into something thoroughly entertained, and gods, how his eyes glint with pure assholery—you could fucking kill him.

"Enzo—" you stammer, horror flushing through you, burning through the mortification lodged in your throat. "Gods—what the fuck—"

"Surprise," he breathes, like this is the most casual thing in the world to him.

You scramble back, knees scraping against cold stone—mind spiralling in every direction at once—shame collides with shock and it all burns under your skin, the kind of heat that never settles. You know Theo's voice. You could never mistake it. You know for a fact that was him back at the party— but this, this makes no sense.

"What...what the hell-" your voice stumbles like you're trying to outrun the words. "Why would you—what were you—"

"Relax," he is all too fucking calm. "It was a prank."

"A prank?" You're still on the floor, and for some reason that makes everything worse. "You call that a prank? A—a funny little joke?"

"That's usually the definition—"

"No." You hiss between clenched teeth, anger strangling any hope for composure. "What were you doing in here? This— this isn't—you were trying to-"

"Trying to what?" He sounds so goddamn innocent but you know better. He's toying with you, making sure you know it. He's been your best friend since you were kids but you never said it was by choice. He steps closer. "I was trying to what, angel?"

Your blood boils, the heat spreading fast—pooling low in your core against all specks of your sanity. He's relishing this, drinking in your mortification like it's fine wine—and for some reason, it makes you weak.

"You—" words die with another one of his steps, the toes of his shoes brushing against your skin as he crouches down in front of you, elbows resting casually on his knees. You sit back, ass meeting cold stone. "Enzo—"

"Yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You just gonna' parrot my name all night? Maybe you're too embarrassed to speak?"

The constant mocking feels like ice and you want to slap that smug look right off his face but instead your fucking thighs tense. You have nothing to say—can only stare at him, lungs seizing further as you notice the smirk fading from his lips, something darker replacing it—

"You didn't even know who was under that mask, and you were ready to suck me off," he's whispering, but he may as well be screaming. "You'd do anything for anyone with a mask, huh? I wish I knew about this kink of yours sooner."

He leans in closer, his knees pushing yours apart—you and Enzo had never been strangers to toying the line of friendship one too many times while drunk, but this—

You blink. Staring at him. "You...you're enjoying this way too much."

"Guilty as charged." His smile spreads wider, cockier, his eyes dipping to your lips, then lower. You shiver involuntarily. "I know I should have stopped you sooner, but seeing you on your knees...in front of me...I just..."

He shakes his head before he slowly stands back up—and his eyes flicker to your chest, lingering on your fucking tits and not even trying to be subtle about it.

Then, there’s a sound—the sound of the door creaking open.

You barely hear it, the faint shuffle of footsteps, but it's enough to pull the grin from Enzo's face as he looks up. You're not sure your heart can handle anymore of this—plummeting to the stone beneath you as Theo steps into the room, dressed just like Enzo—black robes, black gloves, Ghostface mask.

"Nott." Enzo's voice is too casual, too easy. "Great timing, mate."

Theo’s silent as he takes in the scene. You—still on the floor, dress hitched up, legs spread. Enzo standing over you, smug, unbothered. Theo's presence fills the room as he shuts the door behind him and locks it, stoking your humiliation into something even hotter, something impossible to escape.

Theo's voice is flat, his tone too even. "Looks like you got caught."

Wait—

"You—" your gaze jumps between them, a wild panic bubbling up inside you. You're so fucking confused. "What is this? You two—"

"Like I said, a prank." Enzo says as he steps toward Theo, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "A bet, really.”

Theo doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He doesn't look away from you.

"A bet?" You choke out, trying to piece everything together. "What bet?"

"Well, you see, angel," Enzo pushes away from Theo and slumps down into a chair just off to the side of you. You feel the dread rolling in like a storm. "I bet big Theo here you'd get so weak in the knees over the mask, you wouldn't even notice the switch. As usual, I was right."

Andddd, there’s the dread. Yup. As expected whenever Enzo is fucking involved in anything.

"Oh, wow—" you'd laugh if you weren't this utterly mortified by the entire situation. "You guys are—gods. You’re going after a whole new high score in the prick olympics, aren't you—"

"Oh, I don't know if you believe that, topolina...I think you're just being shy." Theo cuts through your rambling and you flinch at the sound of his voice. "It's clear this is a fantasy of yours."

Your head tilts up, eyes widening as they meet the empty, hollow eyes of the mask drawing closer.

"I bet you're just embarrassed," Theo's pressing—he's fucking pressing and you don’t think you’ve breathed since he walked in. "Embarrassed that you got on your knees for your best friend...or maybe you're afraid I'd be mad." He pauses, and his gaze sweeps down over you. "Which, to that I'd have to say, I'm far from."

You swallow hard, your mouth dry. "You're...you're not mad?"

Perhaps you were afraid of that—even if you and Theo are unofficial in every aspect.

His answer is instant. "No."

He crouches in front of you, gloved fingers finding your chin, tipping your head up so he can look at you— really look at you.

"In fact...I think you should let him watch..." his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, so soft, so slow—without thinking, your tongue flicks out, barely grazing the leather covered tip, and you hear the soft exhale he releases in response. "After all, this was his idea. He deserves some fun too, don't you think?"

Heat floods your cunt, your stomach tightening at the suggestion. You glance at Enzo, sitting back now with his mask on—legs spread wide, leather hands clasped, calm—you wanted to kill him five minutes ago, but now—

Oh gods—you're really losing it.

"Yeah," you whisper, barely managing the word. "He probably does."

Theo's hand slides down to your thigh, leather fingers curling into the soft skin, pulling your legs open further.

"Mhm." He mutters. "You like being watched, don't you?"

Your breath catches, your pulse thundering in your ears as you nod, your eyes glued to Enzo. "Yes..."

"Say it." His fingers trail higher, teasing the soft skin beneath your dress, fingertips grazing closer—too close—just below the lace hem of your panties.

Salazar save you.

You bite your lip, and the air between you feels like it's thickening, growing too dense to breathe in. That fucking mask. You've fantasized over it. And now, there's two of them. Two sets of eyes—faceless, emotionless, and watching you. It's like something out of your fucking dreams.

"I—I like being watched," you manage to whisper, voice breaking between building lust.

"Louder," Theo growls this time like he's pulling it from somewhere deep in his chest—it sends liquid heat spilling through you. "Louder, topolina. He can't hear you if you're whispering."

Your heart stutters in your chest, and Enzo—gods, Enzo is still watching—stays silent, the mask concealing whatever reaction he might have, but his posture speaks volumes. Stillness, dark fabric of his trousers tight across his thighs, a coiled tension that radiates off him, permeates the space between you.

"I—fuck—" a breathless moan cracks through your words as Theo's leather-clad fingers slip under your panties, grazing your slick slit. "—love it. I love being watched."

Theo hums, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and rewards you by pushing two fingers into your dripping heat. So slow, the pace of his strokes torturous—slick sounds of leather working you open filling the room, mingling with your quiet, shuddering breaths. His thumb brushes your clit, teasing over it until you moan—hard and shameless—

"So loud," Theo mocks, your spine arching into him as his fingers curl inside you. "Eager, filthy little thing. You love being on display, don't you?"

A whimper catches in your throat, your gaze still locked on Enzo, watching him watch you.

You're shaking. You're close. Too close.

Your voice cracks again, nothing more than a whisper caught in a moan. "Theo...fuck—"

"You're so wet, bellissima," Theo breathes behind the mask. You're burning, every nerve sizzling. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You can't speak. Words don't exist anymore, only the pressure—only the way Theo's fingers curl inside you, the way your thighs tremble and ache from holding yourself open, from being watched, from being this goddamn humiliated.

"Y-yes," you choke out, desperate. "Yes, please, I—"

"Ask him." Theo's cuts you off. "Ask Enzo to let you cum."

The room spins. The air thickens into something cloying.

Ask him. Ask Enzo—

You swallow hard, your eyes darting between the two masks. Enzo is silent, still motionless, but he tilts his head slightly, the only indication that he's heard. That he's waiting.

"Please, Enzo—" the humiliation is sickening but you force past it. It’s a broken prayer, vulnerability in verbal form. "Please...let me cum—please—"

Time stretches. It feels like hours, an eternity where nothing exists but the weight of their hidden eyes on you, the way Enzo's fingers twitch, curl over the thick ridge at his crotch, leather knuckles tensing as if he's restraining himself from something primal. You're being devoured whole by this moment—by the unbearable tension, by Theo's fingers inside you, relentless in their assault, and gods—you're going to die if they don't let you—

"Yeah," Enzo finally murmurs, breaking the silence. Theo's gaze flickers to him, waiting. "Yeah, you can cum, angel…”

But as he says it, he shakes his head, and Theo—the absolute bastard—pulls his fingers out without a word.

"…just not yet." Enzo finishes.

The sound that leaves your throat isn't even human, some guttural, helpless whine torn straight from your throbbing, empty cunt. Theo shushes you.

"You'll get to cum, Bella," he coos, standing up slowly. "It'll be soon."

They're toying with you, playing you like a goddamn puppet on strings and it's infuriating in its deliciousness. You've known these men for years, yet it's almost laughable—the way they feel so foreign, so terrifyingly new.

"Oh, Enzo," you sigh, feeling your arousal cool, your body suddenly aware of the icy stone beneath you, of the wet heat slicking down your thighs. "I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

Enzo snorts. "You're welcome to try."

Theo exhales a half-chuckle, helping you off the floor and onto a desk, his hands firm on your thighs as he spreads you open like he's done a hundred times within the last few months.

A moment passes before he moves to loosen his belt and you realize just how close Enzo is now—his chair right beside the desk, his hand palming the bulge in his pants, shameless in his observation. The sight makes you fucking dizzy with filth. Surely, you've lost your mind. This is madness. Every line between friendship and lust—between restraint and indulgence—has blurred and bled into something you can't define, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

"This is insane," you hiss, breathless, feeling the way Theo's gloves scrape over your skin, two thick digits dragging in your slick. "You're both fucking insane."

"Too much talking," Theo mutters, so infuriatingly calm, even as he drags the head of his dick over your folds, teasing your clit. "So much attitude for someone dripping down their thighs. You want to stop?" The silence stretches, your eyes locked on his, and you can feel the smirk behind the mask. He nods. "That's what I thought. Now shut up and let me fuck this wet cunt."

His hands grip either side of the desk, his body looming over you—the scene from your fantasy you've envisioned a million times. Ghostface—dominant and rough—gods, you want it. So bad it fucking hurts.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes immediately finding Enzo's again—forgetting for half a second that he was even there. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the denim, mask locked onto you with a single-minded focus that makes your breath stutter.

"Enz-ohhh—" you go to say something to him, but then Theo pushes into you—no warning, no slow build—just a deep, unforgiving thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs, and your voice cracks on his name, the syllables lost in the moan that spills out of you.

"Shit." Enzo groans in response. "Did you just—"

"She did," Theo snarls, his grip on your hips punishing as he slams into you again, harder this time. "The little slut just moaned your name."

There's cursing, from both of them, but it's all a blur in your ears, drowned out by the sound of Theo's hips slamming into yours, the fevered slap of skin on skin, the obscene sounds you can't help but make—

"Yeah, I noticed," Enzo mutters, and fuck, he sounds ruined, completely lost in the sight of you—his best friend, getting fucked by his other best friend. "Fuck."

Theo's hand finds your jaw, forcing your head back to face him, Ghostface mask looming above you like a delicious nightmare.

"Who's fucking you?" His voice is caught somewhere between a snarl and a purr. "Is it Enzo?"

"N-no—" you manage, trembling with every thrust.

"Of course it's not," Theo hisses, driving into you with punctual thrusts to make you feel him, making you cry out when he slams your cervix. "So why'd you moan his name? When it's—fuck—my cock inside you?"

"I—I didn't mean—" you whimper, eyes squeezed shut, but there's no escape. Not from the relentless pace of Theo's dick, not from the way Enzo's eyes never leave you, burning into you like fire. You can't form words.

"Mm—don't be shy now, topolina," Theo purrs, his voice thick with effort. His hips snap forward, and your back arches, a broken sound escaping you. "I think you just love having him in your mouth—his name, his—"

"Fuck, Nott, shut up," Enzo cuts in, his head thrown back, chest tense. "I don't want to hear your voice—"

You can hear the strain, the way he's barely holding it together—

"Look at him," Theo ignores Enzo's words. He lets go of your jaw. "He wants you. He's always wanted you."

Your eyes dart between them, head spinning, unable to form a coherent thought—Theo's fucking relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—and every time you glance at Enzo, you see the way he's breaking, hand moving faster, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths—

"I never knew you were such a voyeur, Nott," Enzo spits, trying to sound casual. "Never took you for being such a filthy bastard."

"What can I say?" Theo groans in response, propping your legs up over his shoulders to drive into you deeper. "Just discovered a new interest, you should try it sometime."

They're still bantering, like this is some kind of fucked-up competition, like you're not about to shatter into a million fucking pieces while your best friend watches—after he got you here and humiliated you with a fucking bet—gods, you'd laugh if you weren't so utterly lost to the pleasure ripping through you.

"And watch you get off on it?" Enzo spits back, voice rough. "I'll—"

Theo snorts, cutting him off. "I think there's more than one person getting off on—"

"Shut the-fffuck up—please-" you manage to moan, the words barely intelligible. You look to Enzo, eyes wide and pleading. "Enz...come here."

"Yeah...?" Enzo breathes out, his voice catching, tipping his head back forward to look at you. “What?”

"Come here," you moan again, trembling, fraying under the pleasure that's building inside you from Theo’s insistent dick. "Let me help you."

For a moment, he hesitates, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking because the goddamn mask hides everything. He's always been the calm one between you—always stopping your drunk kisses, always refraining from taking things too far. But tonight, there’s no more of that calm left in him—

He stands.

Each step he takes feels like a lifetime, but when he's standing next to your head on the desk, towering above where you're laid out like a feast, you don't know whether it's the mask or the situation itself that has your pulse racing. Erotic and terrifying, the not-knowing—a power exchange in its purest form. Theo growls infront of you, his thrusts growing harder, more vicious, as you reach out to pull Enzo's hips closer.

You're already eyeing the throbbing bulge in his jeans, your mouth practically watering as you stare.

"Go on," you rasp, lips parting as you look up through your lashes. "Take it out."

The breath Enzo sucks in is sharp, a hitch in the darkness. His fingers tremble, just barely, as he pushes his pants down his thighs, and the noise that escapes him when his cock slips out and smacks his stomach—low, strangled—makes you moan and clench in response—he's huge.

Your breath catches, a soft exhale of, "oh, fuck."

And the words are barely out of your mouth before both Theo and Enzo respond—low growls and breathless groans that echo in the shadowed room, vibrating through you like electricity.

"Open your pretty mouth," Enzo whispers and you obey without hesitation, tongue slipping out, wanting, eager. His breath shudders, and you wish you could see his eyes. "Good girl."

And then he's pushing into you, sliding hot and thick over your tongue, and at that exact moment, Theo thrusts harder, deeper, and suddenly you're overwhelmed—both of them inside you, filling you, consuming every breath. Moans ripple through the dungeon air, a chorus of sin, and you shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

Theo's thumb finds your clit, starts swirling over it, and you keen—eyes rolling back in your head, Enzo’s leather hands in your hair to hold you still. Tears stream down your face as you gag, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but neither of them stop—if anything, they're both lost in it, in the wrecked, messy beauty of it all. Your hands claw at the desk, desperate for something to hold on to as the pleasure builds, tightens, spirals out of control.

Time collapses. It's been moments—it's been hours.

And then it happens—all three of you tipping over the edge at once, crashing into a release so fierce it shatters you. Your climax rips through you, violent, leaving you shaking, milking Theo until he's spent—until he's pouring his cum deep inside your cunt at the same time Enzo groans deep and spills his own over your tongue. A moment passes, and then Theo is the first to pull away, panting, tearing off his mask and dropping into the chair beside the desk, and Enzo follows, tugging his jeans back up before slumping into another chair, mask still on—

Both of them are sprawled there, utterly spent, just as wrecked as you.

And then, after a few long, tense moments, you hear it—the clink of Galleons exchanged. You don't even need to look up for it to register. Theo tosses the coins into Enzo’s greedy palm because he was the true fucking winner here. The sound cuts through the stillness, and with it, that smug, unmistakable sneer in Enzo's voice.

"Told you she'd love it."

Asshole.

You roll your eyes. Your limbs feel like they're moving through molasses as you stand, your hands mechanically fixing your costume, adjusting the fabric against your thighs.

"You know, Enzo, if you wanted to watch Theo fuck me that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"What can I say," he shrugs, lazy, like he's discussing the weather. "I enjoy a bit of gambling."

Theo snorts, adjusting his collar, as if none of this fazes him. His eyes flick from you to Enzo. "Next time you'll be paying me."

"Next time?" You cock an eyebrow. "How generous of you."

"There will be a next time," Enzo says, flipping one of the Galleons between his fingers, that same smirk playing on his lips. "And I'll get my turn."

Your pulse quickens at the sheer arrogance of it, the way he says it like it's not even up for debate. You hate how much you like this side of him.

"Maybe next time you should."

They nod, both of them wearing their smirks like crowns. "Until next time, then."