#it USED to be during the plot of the game but now it's before the game started

[specterofyou]

I wish there were more customization options in character creators, I can never find one for people with one arm so I'm never able to fully recreate Mint...

[lvrclerc]

✶ BETTER THAN THE NOVELS

summary: you're a romance novel influencer that has never actually experienced romance. ironic, right? and when f1 driver lando norris accidentally becomes a constant presence in your life, he decides he can't possibly let that slide.

F1 MASTERLIST | LN4 MASTERLIST

pairing: lando norrisﾉf!reader

wc: 11.2k

cw: reader is a ferrari fan and is said to wear feminine clothing (dresses, skirts etc), reader has a race taking place in her home country but it's not precised where, takes place during a fictional season (w the 2025 grid), cussing, inspired by nick and cassie on tiktok, slight angst near the end for plot reason, otherwise just tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: first fic who cheered! this is so self-indulgent and cliché but who caresss also its a long one so buckle up (editing was hell, ending is a bit rushed too sorry)

THERE WAS NOT ONE day in which @.whoisy/n, book influencer extraordinaire, did not pass her day with her head inside a romance novel.

You always liked reading. The passion struck you in late primary school when you first opened Percy Jackson and before you knew it, you finished the entire series in three days and begged your parents to buy you Heroes of Olympus. There was no going back after that. You couldn’t spend a day without your thirty minutes to an-hour reading session.

Like every girl raised with the idea of being a strong, independent female lead in the novel that was your life ─ at the sweet age of thirteen, dare I be precise ─ you never dabbled too much into romance. If it ended in a book you were currently reading, so be it, but you wouldn’t outwardly enjoy it. Why would you need someone in your life? You were so not like the other girls, you didn’t waste your time on boys or parties or things like that ─ you didn’t even wear pink!

Except that now that you have grown up, at the age of twenty-two, you liked wearing pink and bows, and because you spent most of your life buried in books with this idiotic, sexist idea of the “not-like-other-girls”, you never had kissed or dated anyone. Damn Rick Riordan.

I mean, you went on dates, sure, but they never went anywhere further than a “that was fun!” text and radio silence right after. It made you feel used, sometimes, but at that point, it was just something you expected whenever you took an interest in an individual.

The only thing that stuck with you as you got older was your passion for books. So after you resigned yourself to it, you dived into romances. Bad idea, really, because you started living vicariously through them.

Everything was so perfect: the storylines, the female leads, the guys and the girls and what they whispered into the other’s ear, and when they noticed small things nobody else would’ve noticed, proclaimed their love high and loud in heartfelt speeches, the awkwardness of a first love and the tenderness of a first kiss. A part of you, whenever you tapped your Kindle or rushed through the pages, ached a little in the middle of your incessant giggling. Something that yearned for a story like that - but you’ve learned against your will that nothing in the real world could compare to the stories or the movies.

You were doomed to die an old maid with many, many cats and a thousand bookshelves. It didn’t sound that bad, of course, but come on. You still held hope that maybe, one day, something like that would happen to you. Maybe.

One of your favorite subgenres was sports romance. There was something so romantic about running into someone’s arms after a well-spent game ─ you devoured the hockey ones, the basketball ones, even the football ones. More recently, though, you got into the motorsports ones ─ more specifically, Formula One.

There weren’t many, mainly because of the work that had to be done to dodge plagiarism: you couldn’t use the actual drivers or team, so you had to reinvent everything down to every detail. But for those that existed, you simply couldn’t let them go. You liked Formula One, it wasn’t a proper passion like reading was but it still was a nice pastime: you’d turn on your sketchy website that streamed F1 TV Pro to watch the Grand Prix and became impatient during the overly long summer and winter breaks. While you were more partial to drivers than to teams, you grew very fond of Ferrari as the years went by.

You were very vocal about your interests in your accounts. Obsessing so much over books gave you access to fandoms at a young age and a desire to have your own space within them. You quickly became a staple presence on BookTok, BookStagram, and BookTube after your first posts and videos went public. People found you funny, endearing, and relatable… not to throw yourself flowers, but you were. It’s that transparency about your Sahara-desert dry love life and your contagious excitement about your hobbies that made you so popular, reaching millions around multiple platforms.

People liked you, so people were kind to you. An advanced reader copy of a new F1 romance novel was on another level of kindness, though.

You hadn’t expected it, but it came in your mailbox with a sweet written word from the author, Leandra Moore ─ she was pretty influential and had written multiple New York Times-acclaimed New Adult romances. You didn’t even process everything she was saying, only that she liked your videos and your personality and ‘thought you might like her new work’.

What a stupid question. Of course, you did.

You devoured the 430 pages in a sitting. The sky, awfully bright when you got the package, was pitch black by the time you turned the last page. You were breathless, flushed, and smiling so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “Silver Spring Race” was a wonder of brother’s best friend, secret exes, and second chance rom-com goodness, mixed with the adrenaline of the perfect F1 season, five out of five stars on Fable and GoodReads. You didn't waste any time: tripod, lighting, and you were already filming a review video in your almost ecstatic state, giggling away with the camera knowing full well you were sharing with a few thousand.

It was a simple review as you always did. Yet, it did way, way better than your normal videos ─ so much so that the book had to be released early. So much so that Leandra had the means to host a release party after the goddamn Miami Grand Prix. So much so that she invited you, personally and free of charge, as multiple other book influencers to attend the Grand Prix and the release party the day after.

Someone had to pinch you because holy shit, this couldn’t be your reality. You never confirmed something as fast as you did for that. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

The race had been an exceptionally good one. The sun was bright and hot but the slight breeze made up for the extreme Miami heat. You and your book influencer friends and acquaintances had amazing seats at the Beach Grandstands - some on the North and some on the South. You quietly wondered just how much money did Silver Spring Race generated for Leandra to get those sought-after seats.

There had been a few technical difficulties during the race, causing Pierre Gasly to DNF, and a narrowly avoided crash on Albon's part which cost him to lose standing. Ferrari was going strong, though, which kept you breathless from screaming until the checkered flag. Norris ended in pole position, with Verstappen following suit in P2 and Leclerc in P3. While it was not the outcome you hoped for due to your bias toward the latter's team, you had to cheer when faced with the radiant smile of the first-placed.

Now, the thing was to get out of the stands. That was a harder task, the Beach Grandstands were filled to the brim and before you could process what was happening, the flow of people separated you from your friends. No matter how much you fought against the current you couldn't help but be brought down to wherever they were going: guess you'll have to find a way out by yourself.

By the time people scattered, you were in an unknown setting with multiple staff members, all wearing different colors ─ pink, orange, red ─ and running around. You would have liked to stop one of them to ask where you were, or at least how you could access the parking area from here, but all passed you as if you didn't exist. You couldn't blame them, the Grand Prix had just ended, and they probably had ten thousand other things to do. You were on your own. Great.

You just wandered off and hoped you'd stumble upon a miraculous exit sign amidst the long and confusing hallways.

You definitely didn't expect to crash into Lando Norris.

You didn't realize it was him at first. The only thing you knew was that as you were looking around, finally finding somewhere open from where you could see the stands (but still not anywhere that looked like it could lead you to the parking lot), you back bumped full speed against someone.

You turned around, heart skipping because of the shock. Soon enough, though, your astonishment turned horrific when you gradually noticed the full can of Monster energy drink spilled on an orange tracksuit, staining it deep brown.

It couldn't get any more embarrassing. Until your eyes darted up and you saw a mess of curls and wide, green eyes. That's when your horror became panic. Holy fuck, you didn't just─

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, after a few seconds of stunned silence. “I'm so, so sorry─ I didn't─ I was looking for the exit and I didn't see─ holy shit─”

You started aggressively looking in your small handbag, hoping─ no, praying, you brought some tissues with you. You spilled an energy drink on Lando Norris. His energy drink. Lando Norris was in front of you, staring at you like you were some wild, erratic animal. He was probably furious. You wanted to bury yourself six feet deep underground. “I'm sorry, I can't find any tissues I─”

He snorted.

You froze in your tracks, interrupting your rambling. A glimmer of amusement shone in the driver's eyes. “It's chill, don't even worry about it. It's not as if that was like, the only suit I owned.”

“Uh─” you started. “I'm still─”

There was something about your expression, maybe the fact you were opening and closing your mouth searching for something to say like a fish out of the water, that made him reiterate. “Really, it's cool. You can stop panicking.” After a pause, he continued, in a more reassuring tone. “Plus I'm already all sweaty and dirty, so not much of a difference.”

He was…? Heat furiously rose up to your cheeks and you couldn't tell if it was because of embarrassment or his words or how painfully aware you were of the situation. “What?”

This time, Lando's face was graced with a shit-eating grin aimed right at you. “From racing and champagne, you know.”

Oh.

Now you wanted to be five feet under. What was wrong with you? “Right.” You took a deep breath. You bump into Lando Norris, an F1 driver you admired for years no matter your loyalty to Ferrari, and spill an entire energy drink on him before accidentally stepping right into borderline sexual harassment. Get a grip, Y/N. “I saw. I mean, I was in the stands. Beach Grandstands. I saw you. Win the race. Congratulations, by the way!”

You sounded like a robot. Oh my god. You couldn't act less natural even if you tried.

Lando arched an eyebrow. “Thanks a lot. But uh, if you were in the stands─ what are you doing in staff quarters?”

Your heart lurched in your chest, realizing the impression you probably gave. “Shit. I promise I'm not a weird fan or anything, I'm not a stalker! Which is definitely what a stalker would say. But I'm not. I was dragged by the mass of people and I couldn't find the exit and nobody would tell me─”

Another laugh from him interrupted you and what surprised you was the absence of mockery: he sounded genuinely amused. You didn't know how to react to the fact he found your distress funny. “Are you always this anxious?”

“See, this whole…,” you made a circular hand gesture, “... situation is not helping my anxiety. So the answer would be maybe.”

Lando chuckled again and this time, an awkward smile found its way to your lips. “I wasn't trying to blame you, it was just a question. You can breathe. But the exit's not there.”

“Yeah, I think I noticed,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It's through there,” Lando turned around and pointed to a slightly hidden door, but right above was a bright green exit sign. You were blind. “You just go straight and the parking lot shouldn't be that far.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks. I didn't see it,” you simply answered. Dusting off invisible dust from your clothes, you looked at him again. “Again, I'm sorry about the drink. Really.”

“I told you it's nothing, just go before a team member calls security on you, ‘aight?”

You aggressively nodded, which stole another breathless laugh from him that you decided to ignore. Right as you went through the door, the curly-haired driver called: “Hey!” You turned around, frowning in incomprehension.

“Next time you decide to sneak into McLaren's quarters,” Lando said, “at least wear the right colors.”

You quickly glanced at your Ferrari shirt, slightly cropped to go with your jean skirt. That's when the words echoed in your brain. “I wasn't sneaki─!”

Before you could finish your argument, he closed the door on you.

Walking back to your car, the realization of everything that went down the last 10 minutes slowly dawned on you. What the fuck had just happened? Was it real? Did you hallucinate? Did you just humiliate yourself like that in front of Lando Norris?

Most importantly: novels made meet-cutes seem so simple and easy, how did you manage to mess it up that bad?

A day later, you tried to push that interaction to the back of your mind, mainly because of how embarrassed you were about how you acted but also because otherwise, you wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

Once the night had comfortably settled, you confidently walked into the venue Leandra rented. It was an immense room in an even bigger hall, and so elegant you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. You guessed that’s what you were supposed to expect when you partied at the same place the drivers usually did ─ at least that's what one of the girls told you: it was where they would throw after-parties when they had time after races. Fits the theme, you thought.

The decor was tasteful and themed in a way that didn't feel cheap, which was surprisingly hard to do, as you discovered as you mingled with Leandra Moore and her entourage. The buffet was delicious, the champagne was flowing, and there were professional photographers and signed illustrations of the two main characters of Silver Spring Race, along with a Fairyloot exclusive edition of the book. You could have died right here and there: the details were to die for.

Right as the music was getting louder, the conversations grew more deconstructed and the alcohol less diluted, you decided to step out for some fresh air ─ as much fun as it was, being socially involved for so long was tiring you out. If you wanted to last the night, you needed a little break.

The exit was notoriously hard to find, which gave you war flashbacks from yesterday you had a hard time pushing away, but you didn't spend as long finding it ─ just enough to regret the aesthetic choice of wearing high heels for the night.

By the time you got outside, your feet were aching for freedom. You quickly rushed to the stone stairs leading to the party hall and sat on the first step. The scenery was quite stunning: a fountain throned in the middle of the place leading to stairs, lightly illuminated by the white neons in the water and the warm hall light, and tall trees surrounding the square. You could have probably appreciated it more if you weren't so preoccupied with detaching those fucking straps of your ankles: why weren't they coming off, those little─

“Oof, looks like you need help again.”

Your hand froze on your shoe as the voice and accent hit a familiar spot in your brain. It took you a second to catch up, and around a minute to realize. Your heart dropped and you turned around, slowly, like the main character in a horror movie.

Lando Norris stood before you. Again.

Who exactly was controlling your life? Because the odds of this happening a second time were really, really low.

His hair was usually messy, and yet tonight they seemed more contained and professional. He wore a white shirt, and a few buttons popped open at the collar gave you an open view of a small gold chain around his neck ─ you had to drag your gaze away. Straight-legged black pants finished the look, topped off with black loafers. He looked miles away from the Lando Norris you accidentally ran into after the race. He probably showered.

He looked gorgeous, too. It would be a blatant lie to even ignore it, and that realization slightly took your breath away.

Yet, the only thing coming out of your mouth was a strangled, “I swear I'm not stalking you.”

A pause. You had serious issues.

And still, Lando laughed. Hard and loud, like the ones you saw in a few selected interviews when you were bored and scrolling on YouTube during the breaks. It made you feel slightly self-conscious. He breathed in as he walked toward you, a chuckle still in his tone when he spoke up. “I mean, I'd believe you this time but the coincidence's pretty big.”

An offended scoff escaped you and suddenly, all the thoughts about him being a celebrity, a renowned driver, a trust fund kid flew out the window right into the fountain. 

“I'll let you know I was invited to an event here, thank you very much. I have other, more important things to do than follow someone around.”

When you realized what you said, your eyes widened. “Sorry, I didn't mean─”

But Lando was smiling.

“Nah, you did.” Right now, he stood right next to you on the stairs and you quietly wondered if he was going to sit down or keep looking down on you like that. Then you realized that you were, again, in the most improbable situation known to man. Anxiety swirled in your stomach.

“Soo… what event are you attending?”

You squinted your eyes up at him. “...Is this an interrogation?”

Lando simply shrugged. “Can never be too sure.”

Well, you couldn't blame him for that.

“A book release party. The author, Leandra Moore, happened to invite me and other people. She was the one that got us tickets for the race yesterday, too. I just went out to get some fresh air.”

He hummed in response. “Oh yeah, heard something about that. I guess you're legit, then.”

“Yes, I am!” When you looked up again, there was that shit-eating grin. You rolled your eyes to the high heavens.

“... Wait. Is your name Y/N?” He suddenly asked.

Huh?

You never mentioned your name to him. You don't think it was even brought up in the 15 minutes you two talked. A frown scrunched up your eyebrows. “Uh, yes? How'd you know?” Silence. “And I'm the stalker?”

Lando laughed a bit at that. He finally sat down next to you, and the heat of his exposed forearms somewhat close to your own made you panic again.

“Y/N as in WhoisY/N?”

The gasp you let out could have landed you a role in The Young and the Restless. There was no fucking way. Absolutely none. This is where you drew the line. “You can't possibly be watching my videos.” Your tone was resolute.

“Nah, not me. My little sister though, Cisca.” That made more sense than to imagine Lando Norris, McLaren's golden boy, giggling and kicking his feet in front of your last romance review. Still, it felt unreal. “She eats up every single one of your posts. You’re the reason why we have so many cartoon covers at home, that's why I thought you looked familiar at first. The book release party confirmed it.”

You didn't know what emotions you should let transpire first. The fact that you were a celebrity in the Norris family was enough to make your jaw drop, but the mention of cartoon covers added heat to your cheeks ─ you hoped he never opened his sister's books.

“She's so gonna freak out when I tell her I met you,” he said between laughs.

“She's going to freak out?” You asked in disbelief. “You're in Formula 1. She can't freak out because of me. I'm freaking out because of you!”

He didn't point out your statement, thank god, but his eyes didn't seem to miss it. “I'm her older brother, she uses that to make fun of me now. But no, definitely, she's going to freak out.”

“What even is my life right now.”

That, at least, made you both erupt in an unstoppable fit of laughter. When it died down, you finally had the space to ask the question sitting in your mind since he appeared behind you. “What are you even doing here?”

Lando arched an eyebrow at you. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Yes.”

He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, clearly mimicking you. “There's a race after party in the hall. McLaren special. Also went out to get some air, DJ-ing was becoming suffocating.”

“Oh,” it clicked, and you started thinking out loud. “I guess the girls weren't lying when they said that's where the drivers partied. It makes sense Leandra would rent out this hall.”

“Why?”

You were pretty sure smoke could be escaping from you right now just by how flustered you were. “Uh. For promoting her book?”

“Yeah, I got that, but like… why would our parties have anything to do with it?”

Lando was becoming suspicious again. Somebody kill you right now. How do you keep messing it up? “Because… it's… an F1 romance?”

Blank stare. You were just as red as the dress you wore and ready to go home to cry yourself to sleep. Then he laughed, hysterically, and you couldn't feel more ashamed.

“That exists?” He asked, breathless.

You turned your face away from him. “Yes.”

“And you read that?”

“Leave me alone,” you added, “if she follows me, your sister does too.”

That seemed to make him stop, at least, to your devious satisfaction. “I think I'll need to take a look at her shelves when I go home.”

“For the good of the girl and mine, please don't.”

The cold night breeze brushed your arms and you were now very mindful of how thin the material of your dress was. You shivered, rubbing your arms with your hands. Lando was quick to notice. “Shit, sorry. I don't have a jacket. I would have landed it to you otherwise.”

You don't know what came over you, but you bumped your shoulder with his. “Wow, that was almost gentleman-like.” Where did this familiarity come from, you didn't know ─ you have known the man for no longer than an hour. But there was something about the easy-going conversation, the late night, and the champagne buzzing in your blood that made this scene… just like the ones you read about, in your favorite books.

As soon as that idea slithered into your mind, you forcefully pushed it out. That was another level of delusion, Y/N. Those novels fried your brain.

You got up before Lando could answer. “It's fine, I was going to go back to my hotel anyway. The party drained my social battery and my flight takes off early tomorrow, so it's better if I go to sleep.”

“Okay, sure. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Oh shit. “... I don't have a car.”

He blinked slowly. “What do you mean? How'd you come here, then?”

“I carpooled with some girls who are not going home right now.” That was a very dumb idea now that you look back on it.

“So… how are you planning to get to your hotel?”

You didn't bring your wallet with you, so no chance of getting a taxi. “... I'll walk?”

“... Yeah, no. No chance. At night? Dressed like that?” He took you in, making you hyper-aware of the high slit and the almost sheer material of your dress. “I'll take you.”

You were stunned. So much for avoiding delusion or further embarrassment. “I can't possibly ask you─ I mean, you have a party─”

“If you think that after-party is going to end anytime soon, you're so wrong,” he chuckled.

In all honesty, you could have argued more, but Lando already seemed settled on his decision. He stood up, not before grabbing the heels you took off during the conversation and decidedly headed toward the parking lot. You hummed and followed suit as he started walking toward his car, your comments dying on your tongue. The improbability of what was currently happening was just too much for you to grace it with a thought, so a sentence would be crossing the limits.

The car ride was spent in comfortable silence as soon as you typed the address of your hotel in his GPS. Your eyes widened when his car came into view: a black 2018 McLaren Senna, with red accents, you hadn't seen so beautiful with your own eyes in a while. You had to bite back a gasp when you got in.

Lando rolled the windows fully down. The wind whipped strands of hair around as you watched the scenery roll by at a dizzying speed, making you wonder if he knew what a speed limit was. Soft bass music played on the radio, one you didn't know the lyrics to, but Lando did as he whispered-sang them. He looked calm behind a wheel that didn't belong to a Formula One car, the contrast was drastic. The driver met your eyes with a smile, and that was only then you realized you'd been staring. You turned your head as he laughed.

When your hotel came into view, you quietly thanked him for dropping you off and stepped out of the car. You didn't know what to do after that. Some part of you tugged at your mind ─ it was too good to be true, those things only happened in books. He was probably waiting for something in return. After a small wave to him, you were ready to disappear behind the doors and leave this night behind.

“Wait!” Lando called out from his opened window. Your stomach dropped. You knew it.

Hesitantly, you turned around.

“You're still wearing the wrong color,” he simply said, “I better see you in orange if you want my services next time.”

Relief washed over you and no matter how hard you fought it, a smile broke your carefully impassive facade. “Next time?”

Lando smiled at you. “Next time.”

And when he drove away, you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach either.

As you lay in bed that night, you didn't push anything away. You processed what happened, today and yesterday. You didn't know how to feel or what to feel exactly, many emotions were contradictory, but maybe it was alright ─ not to know. To just let yourself feel without having to put a name on it.

When you grabbed the phone in your handbag, an Instagram notification caught your attention before you could even unlock it.

@.lando started following you.

A disbelieving, loud laugh escaped you. He did say there would be a next time.

After that it was safe to say, even though a little wild, Lando Norris had become a staple in your daily life.

The moment you got back home, you had received a DM by the driver himself asking if you traveled safely to which you couldn't help but reply with a “Stalker much?”. He simply answered that there was only a single flight going back to where you lived today, so it was easy to find on Skyscanner. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It made you smile.

The texts continued. What first started as small conversations every two days, reacting to each other's stories or silly tweets with not much depth behind them gradually grew, over a month, into useless life updates, every day with no exceptions.

lando: just ate the biggest fucking sandwich today

lando: [1 picture attached]

lando: scooby-doo type shit

whoisy/n: i'm so hungry actually

lando: did u get sidetracked reading again

whoisy/n: it's LITERALLY my job

lando: go get something to eat you muppet

whoisy/n: yessir

whoisy/n: u'll never guess what happened in my book

lando: he cheated on her right

whoisy/n: …

whoisy/n: you WILL guess what happened in my book

lando: LMAOOO that was so obvious from what you told me

whoisy/n: i had sm faith in him. men!!!

lando: they're all the same

whoisy/n: RITEEEEEE QUEEN

Lando always asked about what you were currently reading. It didn't take a genius or an Oxford diploma to notice how much you loved it, not when your entire social media presence was built around it. You knew it wasn't performative and he enjoyed hearing you talk about it ─ he often sent texts during the week asking about your favorite character, at what page you were, and if they kissed yet. It was harder during weekends due to races. Somehow, he still made time.

Similarly, Lando took the habit of sending you long vocals at the end of his days, explaining what happened, what Oscar and him were up to, and how annoying the different media were. He still refused to tell you much about his team, because your allegiance to Ferrari was simply “outrageous” according to him. You gladly landed a listening ear, chiming with a helping comment whenever you could. The late evenings got later and the vocals longer and longer each passing week, and before you knew it you two were calling almost every night.

It was a normal occurrence. He would get ready for bed and you would drop your Kindle for an hour or two, even longer the rare times he didn't have anything planned the next day. You would talk about anything and everything at the same time ─ sometimes he'd rope you into downloading a game and playing it with him, sometimes you'd just remodel the world until one of you was too exhausted to keep playing God. Most of the time, it was Lando.

Due to its sudden start, this growing friendship of yours quickly attracted the attention of your entire following base as well as his. Lando commented on almost all your new Instagram posts and TikToks with random things that either had a link with what you were talking about or none at all ─ most often alluding to the many inside jokes that stemmed from your conversations. Every interaction succeeded in making everyone crazy, especially your followers: apparently, you were finally getting the sports romance you were dreaming about for years.

The thought crossed your mind, how could it not with the amount of allusions under your posts? The fan edits on your For You page? But you never let yourself linger on it for too long.

You and Lando were friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

The call you got that night was unexpected. Tomorrow was race day, the Canadian Grand Prix more specifically ─ and Lando never called before a race. You understood perfectly, something about being well rested and focused, so you usually sent a good luck paragraph he'd read in the morning and answer after the event. So why did his caller ID light up your phone screen as you were getting ready to go to bed, you didn't know. 

You picked up without a second thought. “Everything's alright?”

“What happened to hello?” He chuckled, his voice grainy through the speaker.

“My God,” you sighed. “Hello, Lando. Is everything alright?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“You never call before race day.”

Silence. “Hello?” You called. “You're still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, it's just─ your books are so unrealistic.”

Your heart skipped a bit, and you sat a little straighter against your pillow. “What?”

“I couldn't sleep and I didn't have anything to do, so I picked up one of your F1 romances you recommended in your last video─” No. No, he didn't. “Throttled? By Lauren Asher? And I just─ it's so dumb.”

Your mouth dropped open and instead of letting out words, a small screech left your lips. “You─ you read─? Why?”

“Like I said, I couldn't sleep. Whatever, it's─”

“Embarrassing!” You interrupted Lando. “You read one of my─ oh my god. This is not the family-friendly kind either. And it's F1. Next time just punch me in the face, I’ll be less humiliated.”

A wheeze came from the other side of the phone. You buried your head in your pillows, trying to put out the fire in your face. “Oh yeah, definitely not family-friendly.”

You groaned in response but that didn't stop Lando from continuing. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, it got most of the sport right but otherwise it's so… it took all the competitiveness out! That's, like, the entire point of F1! I thought you were a fan, how can you willingly enjoy that?”

“I mean, I know it's not the most accurate representation of F1,” you flopped on your back, “but it's kinda like Drive To Survive, y'know? Most people watch it for the drama. I read those for the romance plot.”

Lando scoffed at your words. “Even the romance plot isn't that good, Y/N. The whole part in which he throws a race to make her happy? That's such bullshit.”

“How so?”

“If you love her, you win a race for her.”

You couldn't put the words on it once again, but the way he said it constricted your chest with such tightness you had to take a long, calming breath. You had to concentrate to get out your next sentence. “Well, I don't know, it's not like I know anything about romance. I thought that was pretty romantic.”

“What do you mean, ‘don't know anything about romance'? You read this shit all day long.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but that's not the real thing. I've never actually dated or kissed anyone, so actual romantic gestures are like… foreign languages to me.”

A beat. Until you suddenly heard a mess of covers moving around, reverberating right in your eardrums. You hissed, and Lando spoke up again.

“You've never kissed anyone? Or dated?” He sounded stunned, which surprised you. It's not like you've tried to hide it. It grew to be your brand over time.

“Uh, yeah. Never.”

“You're shitting me.”

“No?”

“I can't believe it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, jeez, thank you for making me feel so great about being a twenty-two years old virgin, Lando.”

“No! No! I didn't mean it like that,” he screamed at his speaker. “You're just… you're you. You’re too nervous for your own good, true, but your cheeks get darker when you laugh, you fiddle with your sleeves when you don’t know what to say, and you constantly hum songs when it’s too quiet for you. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're passionate, you're funny…” He got quiet before continuing. “I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you, that's all.”

Oh. Oh.

The fluttering in your stomach flew its way up to your throat, and for a little moment, you thought you were going to throw up. The silence stretched as you basked in Lando's words, left hanging in the thick air. Suddenly the screen didn't seem like enough space between the two of you.

Lando ended up breaking the stillness. “I just─ I think I should hang up. The race's tomorrow and it's getting─” A pause. You glanced at the time: 00:23. “Shit, the race is today.”

“Don't worry. Go to sleep, get those hours in and win tomorrow,” you answered in a shaky breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do.”

Still, neither of you clicked on the red button. “Lando?”

“Mmh?”

“Thank you. For what you said.”

“... I meant it.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He hung up.

You desperately tried to fall asleep, tossing and turning, fighting with your pillow and covers to get comfortable but the only thing your mind could focus on was the end sentence he uttered, the inflections of his voice a ghostly whisper in your ear. I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you.

How did you successfully act as if that call never happened? You didn't know. You never were a good liar, less of a good actress. Maybe it was the way Lando carefully sidestepped the subject every time you nearly alluded to it that made you so good about ignoring it altogether.

It was nothing. You just blew it out of proportion, like you usually did. Maybe you should try self-help books instead of romances for the next few months.

No matter how bittersweet your feelings were about this whole situation, you chose to put them aside, simply because Lando had two free weeks starting today and he chose to put a few of his days aside to fly out to your town. For the first time in almost three months, you were going to see each other face to face. And under normal circumstances! That would be a first.

When he came out of the airport, with a gigantic suitcase for just a few days and his characteristic grin adorning his lips, all questions just vanished into thin air. You resisted the urge to jump into his arms but you didn't miss how tight Lando held you when he initiated the hug ─ you melted into him like snow in the sun.

Lando had rented a hotel room for his short stay, a good thirty minutes ride from you. He used it once before you both silently declared your home was way better than a five-star Hilton. He squatted on your couch and you'd sleep in your bed, the rare times you slept as most nights were spent playing video games and marathoning movies. Most of them were romantic comedies. Lando would complain about the lack of realism and you'd smack him over the head, and the movie would be watched in between snarky commentaries and heartfelt comments on your perception of love, sneaking glances at each other.

You tried not to let the latter get too much to your head.

However, Lando's trip had to end at some point. Too soon, it was the evening before his plane ride home and you were helping him gather the stuff he left all over the place ─ the state of your living room was deplorable, but you could cry about it tomorrow morning. In any case, you had to get ready since Lando established earlier there was no way in hell he was going to go back without going out at least once. You replied by saying you already went out a couple of times but according to him, visiting was not considered “going out.”

A good thirty minutes later, you crossed the threshold of your house, heels clacking on the pavement as you approached Lando. He was waiting next to your own car, black shirt half buttoned and messy curls hastily tamed. You had forced yourself not to stare too much ─ friendship established or not, you were still the same girl he found on the stairs in Miami and he was still undeniably beautiful. His eyes raked over you in silence, his lips parting slightly, and you found your normally confident walk faltering.

You hoped he thought of you just the same.

Then, breathlessly, “Wow.”

That's all it took for fire to flame up your face, drowning the blush you so carefully applied. You graced him with a little spin, which he applauded. “Well, you're not so bad yourself,” you added. Understatement of the year.

You walked to the driver's seat, but Lando's hand on the handle stopped you going further. “Nah, I'm driving tonight. I got a surprise for you.”

“What do you mean, surprise? Weren't we supposed to go to the movies?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“We watched, like, 30 movies and I've been there 5 days - I’m starting to overdose. Trust me and get in the passenger seat.”

“... You being so ominous is making it very hard to trust you, Lando.”

“I’m an F1 driver, I can drive your car.” He sounded offended you doubted him, even though you weren’t alluding to his driving skills at all. Still, the tone he employed when mentioning your car was almost offending you. Not everyone had a McLaren salary.  “I meant the surprise,” you clarified.

“Ah. Well. Have a little faith in me, c’mon.” On these words, he climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door on you. The audacity of that man, sometimes you couldn’t believe it. It didn’t leave you much choice than to take the seat next to him and watch the landscape go by. Quiet conversation was made as the sky tinged with dark, navy blue, and before you knew it Lando was parking in front of one of the most reputable ─ and expensive ─ restaurants in your town. It was safe to say you never put a foot in it before.

When you got out of the car, you almost jumped at him. “That’s your surprise?!” You whispered-exclaimed under his amused gaze. “You’re crazy. Downright mad.”

“I’m inviting you!” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, to just indebt yourself by inviting a girl to dinner. The smile he flashed at you was a mix of hesitation and enthusiasm, so bright that any protests and remarks about how you just couldn’t let him pay died in your throat. Instead, you thanked to which Lando answered by giving you his arm. You took it and entered the restaurant.

You couldn’t describe the meal as anything but luxurious, whether it was taste-wise or the plate’s presentation. Your surroundings were gold plated and yet the only thing you could focus on was how hard Lando was trying to make you choke on your food ─ the jokes were flowing just as much as the wine in your glass, any awkwardness you may have felt stepping into this place disappeared into thin air as soon as Lando started occupying the conversational space, like he could sense how tense you were.

Before you could even look at the dessert, he stopped you. “We’ll skip that,” he said. You threw him a strange look. “I have another thing planned, just go with it.”

How many surprises were in store for you tonight? You didn’t know, and your Excel-spreadsheet-on-vacations self was getting panicky. But if there was one thing you learned with Lando was that your incessant worrying was needless, especially with him. You left after he took care of the bill, being very careful about not letting the numbers in your sight, and climbed back into the car. The sky was now an inky black and the air was lukewarm on your bare arms. Lando rolled the windows down like he usually did, but this time let you be in charge of the aux ─ considering it still was your vehicle. Frank Ocean’s “Moon River” resonated in between hushed giggles and the chime of the wind in your hair. Flashbacks of that fateful night, three months ago, crept through your memories. You still couldn’t believe what it had come to. 

You drove longer than you did before. This time, Lando parked on a cliff you had no idea existed, even though this was your town. And this time, when you got out of the car, your breath was taken away by just how many stars contrasted with the darkness of the night, the lights of the town too far away to blind them and instead joining them in a faraway source of light.

Marveling in front of the scenery stopped you from noticing Lando’s shenanigans behind you. He was awfully quiet, which wasn’t like him, so you turned around. 

You found him on the roof of your car. Literally. With plastic goblets, the half-empty bottle of wine you had at the restaurant, and ─ you weren’t joking ─ a plate of pancakes. Your jaw dropped open, nearly hitting the floor. “What? How─ huh?” No full sentence could come out of your mouth at this moment, no matter how hard you tried.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like pancakes,” he pleaded, “I woke up way too early to make them not be eaten.”

You thought you dreamt yourself climbing on the top of your car to sit next to him, but it was all very real: you were wholly stunned, which he seemed to notice. Sheepish, he prompted a proper explanation, “I just thought I should, uh, properly thank you. For letting me stay at your house and all. This seemed less impersonal than the restaurant.”

“You stole the wine,” was the only constatation you were able to get out, barely. Emotions constricted your throat too tightly for you to utter anything else.

He laughed. “Took it when you weren't looking. ‘S not like they're going to reuse it so I took care of the waste.”

“Such an ecologist soul,” you teased.

“They call me Father Nature at McLaren.”

“How'd you…” Words weren't coming out easily. Your eyes darted from the bottle, to the pancakes he probably woke up at an ungodly hour of the morning to make, and Lando ─ who was waiting for you to speak like you were his saving grace. Nobody ever looked at you like that, you thought, like you meant something more than what you were. “How'd you get this idea?”

Your question seemed to fluster him a little. He ran a hair through his curls, eyes darting to the side. “Uh, that's what he did. The male character in your book. Nothing Like The Movies I think? I thought that'd be something you like, y'know?”

Your heart thumped against your chest like it threatened to burst out of it. He read a romance novel, one of the most recent ones you reviewed. He took note of your favorite scene, in which Wes was supposed to take Liz to a restaurant but ended up eating on the roof of his car. He reproduced it.

For you.

“I…” There was a sentence threatening to spill out that you're not sure you quite mean yet, but you were feeling it so deeply it was hard to keep it in check. “I don't know what to say.”

“Then just eat the goddamn pancake before they get harder than they are. Turns out, they're not really durable.” It surprised a chuckle out of you.

The conversation carried on after that. The slow hum of Frank Ocean's discography escaping from the car made the perfect soundtrack to the vast discussions about racing, books, and life in general. The longer Lando and you went on, the quieter your voice got until they were reduced to a little more than a whisper, almost into each other's ears. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, your pinkie was intertwined with his, and the bottle was empty by the time the clock on your lock screen showed midnight.

“How did you even find this place?” You looked around once more, taking in the city lights, the tall trees, and the numerous stars above you.“I've been living here for years and I never knew you could get such a good view. Plus, it's not like you sneaked out during the night to scout places out. Unless?” You gasped exaggeratedly.

And there it was again, the pinkish tint at the end of his ears and the avoiding looks. “Nah, no sneaking out. I… I mean, what I did was─”

“You…?”

“I googled ‘date idea’ in your city and this is one of the places that came up.”

All of the sudden, the reality of the situation slapped you in the face. How Lando's thumb was lazily drawing circles on your hand, the romantic lyrics of the song playing from the car, the wine and the restaurant and how your eyes have been switching from his eyes to his lips a bit too often ever since you parked.

“Is this…?” You could kiss him right now. According to how transfixed he was by your mouth, you didn't think Lando would mind much.

You leaned in ever so slightly. He never answered your half-question, and even if he did you don't think you could have heard it through the hammering in your ribcage. However, his lips were but a brush of air against your own.

Because a goddamn flash stopped you.

You both jumped in surprise, the harsh light blinding you for a split second. The other half of it was enough to realize what you were faced with. Lando was the first to voice it, in more of a hiss than a sentence. “Fucking paparazzis.”

He got off the car in a jump, but a flurry of hurried footsteps told you that by the time he reached the spot the light came from, there would be no one left. You jumped off as well, dusting off your dress. “Lando?” You were shaking. Somehow, you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, panic, cold, or the brutal withdrawal of the high you were in not even a minute ago.

“The fuckers ran away.” His voice betrayed the palpable anger radiating off him. “I should’ve known. They’re always fucking there.”

The mood was gone, replaced by the static of the cold night air and the missing warmth of each other. By a silent, common agreement, you both cleaned up your car’s rooftop and climbed back in your seats soon after. The soft music was gone, the windows rolled up and Lando’s hands were tense on the wheel. When you got home, nothing more but a small “goodnight” was exchanged ─ apart from a glance, as you crossed your bedroom’s door, but it was too dark for you to interpret what it could mean.

When you woke up a few hours later, Lando was already gone.

You knew it was too good to be true. Things like that happened to the type of girls in the novels, not to you. But when Lando wouldn’t answer your texts, or carried on his vacations and his first Grand Prix back without a care in the world, you still couldn’t be asked to describe the terrible ache in your chest. You should have known.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around it ─ that all the late night calls, the comments, the texts, the rooftop of your car and the soft sweep of his breath on your lips was so easy to brush off for him. Not when it was the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ of what could have happened that night that kept you up for so many sleepless hours. It left you wondering if any of it was real: the friendship, the sweet words, and everything in between, or if you were just the new mystery girl to toy with and give up when it became too complicated.

The heartbreak and betrayal weren’t even the worst part of the situation. You didn’t expect the photo to come out as quickly as it did, after McLaren had a good PR team and would be able to at least intercept it, right? Wrong. It came out two days later. The picture was slightly blurry but clear enough so you could perfectly see your face and Lando’s, dangerously close to each other, and your hands intertwined together.

The flurry of comments, DMs, and interview requests sent to you after was unbelievable. Your community did the best it could to try and get the tabloids off your back, bless them, but all the other sides of the internet were either begging for more information or calling you names. Still, Lando and McLaren chose to ignore the whole situation. Swallowing your pride and deciding to take the high road, you did the same. You read romance books, you reviewed them, you exchanged a little bit with your followers on social media, you watched movies ─ you carried on with your day-to-day life, even if it was with a little less vehemence and a growing dislike for the romantic genre you adored.

It was the first year a Grand Prix would take place in your city. A brand new circuit, with brand new challenges. Taking place in the middle of the season, you were ecstatic when it was announced a few months back. Now, seeing people walking down your street with bright orange shirts and a number 4 on their back on a Friday morning, the only thing you wanted to do was to close your blinds and crawl back into bed for the weekend.

Your plans were thrown in the wind not even an hour later by none other than Cisca Norris. With an Instagram DM. You started following each other a few days after your friendship with Lando had been noticed by the public eye, but you’ve never really spoken to each other. She looked like a sweet girl nonetheless.

ciscanorris: heyyyy

ciscanorris: ik we never talked

ciscanorris: and that might not be the bestest moment to get friendly

ciscanorris: but heyyyyyyy

Your eyebrows rose at the notification, but you weren’t about to let your situation with Lando get in the way of interacting with his sister ─ who had nothing to do with it in the slightest.

whoisy/n: hey cisca! dw at all, hows it going : )

ciscanorris: great!! hbu?

whoisy/n: tired, but apart from that nothing much

ciscanorris: rest well then!

ciscanorris: i’m going to be honest tho

ciscanorris: i’m not just texting you to ask how you’re doing

It should have surprised you yet it didn’t. The timing was too spot-on to be a coincidence, but you chose to live in ignorant bliss.

ciscanorris: are you going to the race this weekend?

whoisy/n: what do you think

ciscanorris: can’t blame you

ciscanorris: my brother’s an ass

That made you chuckle.

whoisy/n: i was thinking worse

ciscanorris: so am i

ciscanorris: but he wants to make up for it

ciscanorris: really

ciscanorris: he insists you should go to the race

whoisy/n: and he couldn’t text me and ask himself because…?

ciscanorris: doesn’t want to spoil the surprise apparently

ciscanorris: idk what he’s planning

Another surprise. Knowing how the last one amazingly ended, you were a little doubtful. Lando sent his sister to ask you to come as if she was the one racing, and now he had something planned ─ again.

ciscanorris: just check your mailbox and think about it

This was enough to pique your curiosity. You went out immediately, opening the little white mailbox next to your front door. There was only a small, brown letter with your address hastily written in black ink ─ you recognized Lando’s handwriting. There it was: a paddock pass, classic McLaren colors, with your name on it. With it? A note, same brown paper, same handwriting: “Please”.

That’s all it took to convince you to go. After all, you still had to get a proper apology. 

This time, you entered the McLaren’s side of the paddock with purpose. The staff member at the entrance knew your name and even showed you the way ─ a sharp contrast with your experience a few months back. You stood above the garage, right in front of the track and near a decisive turn, though the number didn’t come back to you. It was a good spot, excellent even, it could be said to be better than the Beach Grandstands in Miami.

Yet, there was no sign of Lando.

You walked past Oscar in the hallways and the quiet driver just flashed you the tight-lipped smile you give to acquaintances in the street. You walked past his girlfriend, Lily, and you even passed by Lando’s dad, whose eyes widened in recognition but was clearly too busy to offer you anything more than that. Everyone but the man you came to watch the race for. You started to absentmindedly fidget with the bottom of your orange shirt ─ if that was his version of an apology, he was pretty shit at it.

The race started soon after your arrival, and the pit in your stomach dug deeper and deeper as you watched Lando do the formation turn. You suppose you were to wait until the end of the race, which made sense in a way, but you didn’t appreciate being put on standby like greenery on a windowsill.

The animosity dimmed when the sound of motors rang in your ears at lights out.

The circuit was brand new, and two days of preparations were not nearly enough to get acquainted with an entire novel track. Risks were high, and the probability of winning was evened out for everyone, which justified the cacophony of cars bumping into the others during the first lap as everyone found their footing. You believed Lando would have a good chance of ending P1 and snatching a victory in your city ─ it was the type of track and weather that favored him.

But Lando had started on pole position.

From the years you spent watching races and your general knowledge of him, Lando Norris didn’t do well when he started a race on pole. Most often, pressure got to him and he lost one or two places during the first few laps, which made you curse at the TV more than you’d like to admit. Unfortunately, it was exactly what was happening right now: you gripped the railing for dear life as Hamilton passed him, then almost broke your nail on the metal when Verstappen followed suit.

By the last lap, Lando had managed to stay P3 and keep his place on the podium, much to your relief, but the bitterness of pole escaping him was obvious in his behavior: champagne was sprayed all over him by his colleagues but he wouldn’t even look up from the ground, his traits disfigured by disappointment. Maybe some would see it as tiredness, but you knew better.

That’s why as soon as he walked down the podium to head to his team and to his garage, you darted downstairs to meet him.

It didn’t take long to spot Lando. His team surrounded him, clapping his shoulder and congratulating him with a bright smile. He barely returned them, scratching his neck in embarrassment. He was looking around like a lost puppy and you stood there, amidst the mess of elated people, unsure of what you should do or say. When Lando’s eyes set upon you, his expression went from disappointment to remorse in a split second.

He acted before you could. Rushing toward you, his voice was broken when he spoke up, trying to make himself clear above the surrounding noise.  “I’m so, so sorry. I fucked it all up. I was─ that was shitty. My race was shitty.”

You blinked. “What?” You couldn’t understand the link to the race and your situation to save your life. “Lando, you’re P3.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, gripping his curls. His eyes bore into yours, cutting off anything you might have wanted to add. “No!” He continued. “It’s not─ it’s not good enough. I should have been P1. It should have been me, up there. I worked… I worked so hard so I could…” He was breathless now, searching your face for something, even though you couldn’t tell what exactly.

“What are you even talking about?” Frustration elevated the tone of your voice.

“I was supposed to win the race for you!”

That shut you up. Incredulity coursed through you and your mouth, half-opened to say a sentence, couldn’t manage to get out a sound. His words didn’t make sense, and somehow you didn’t need to know more. Lando took your stunned silence as a sign to continue.

“I was supposed to win the race for you. I wanted to give you your book moment. You’re, you’re the type of girl that deserves to get swept off her feet, the grand gestures and all that!” He threw his arm in the air. “When you told me you never had that when we called that night, and the fact I could be the first one to do that for you… I never wanted something, someone, as bad.”

You felt yourself flush. “Everything else failed,” he kept on going, almost erratic, “I tried the heartfelt confessions but bailed right after, I tried to impromptu date but I forgot all about the fucking journalists. So I thought that- that maybe I could give it to you the way I knew best, by racing.”

His words, two months back, echoed in your mind. If you love her, you win a race for her.

“But I had to fuck that up too. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

All of it was for you.

The way Lando looked at you, desperate and miserable, the way your feelings were overflowing out of you and him… it was almost too much for you to process. Your mind and heart were an unintelligible tangled mess you couldn’t make sense of, and in classic you fashion, the first sentence that spilled out of your lips was a teary-eyed, broken, “You’re so stupid.”

“I know.”

You quickly wiped the tears that started spilling down your cheeks. “Not in that self-deprecating way you’re thinking of. Don’t you think it would have been easier if you just told me all this instead of ghosting me for almost a month? Making me think nothing about all this was real? Is that why you weren’t texting or answering me, you were figuring out how to go about this circuit?”

Lando nodded bashfully. You let out a dry laugh. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t care about- that! I don’t care that you didn’t get pole position, I don’t care about your ‘failed’ attempts. I couldn’t care less. What I care about is you. If you had told me that instead of leaving…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he apologized again. “I just─ I wanted─ I know I acted like a moron and I should’ve done better but I thought that if I─”

“I understand. I know.” Gently, you took his hands, furiously fisting the pans of his tracksuit, into yours. Apparently, it acted as an ice bucket dropped right on Lando’s head. He stared at you as if it was the first time ─ in a way it was. He was sweaty, dirty, and covered in champagne, his curls falling onto his forehead and you were standing there, almost as surprised as your first meeting. Except everything else had changed, and the man in front of you wasn’t just a guy driving in a fast car you liked watching on Sundays. “But I didn’t need it. You’re plenty enough all by yourself, without the grand gestures and book-worthy moments. I’m not a book heroine. I need something real.”

The space between the two of you suddenly seemed too vast for the emotions inside of you. One of Lando’s hands carefully slithered on your waist, as if to test the waters. The gentleness of his movement, its implication, stole the breath out of you. “How real are we talking?” He was trying to make light of the situation, but the underlying seriousness in his voice betrayed him. 

“I think you know it by now.”

And just like that, his lips crashed onto yours.

It was an electric shock as if lightning struck you and spilled in your entire body. When he pulled back, you didn’t waste a second wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him right back in.

If his hands were considerate, never unraveling further than your waist and cheeks, his mouth was the complete opposite: hungry, intense. He kissed you like he had been holding back for so long it pained him not to touch you, and you kissed him back with the same vigor because you had been waiting just as much. He tasted like expensive alcohol and you were drunk on it, on the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body. You couldn’t get enough. You don’t think Lando could either. It was messy, somewhat clumsy, his mouth wet and firm moving in sync against your own in haste and impatience.

But it couldn’t have been more perfect. Not for your first kiss.

“Really, right here? Get a goddamn room.”

You recognized Oscar’s voice, even though you couldn’t see him, which was an acidic reminder of where Lando and you both were. You broke the kiss first, and he let out a breathy laugh against your lips, sending shivers through your whole body. “That… was a long, long time coming,” he whispered.

“Whose fault is that?” He chuckled again. You did too.

You gave each other a bit of space, mainly for some well-needed air but also for the comfort of the staff around you. Still, Lando’s hand went up from your waist to your forearms, taking you in like it was the first time he saw you. His smile, wide and bright, brought the trademark heat to your cheek. “You wore the right color this time.” You were now hyper-aware of the shirt you wore, bright orange with a 4 printed on the back. “Good, I would've hated kissing you while you were wearing red. That equals cheating now, by the way.”

“Oh, really? You know, you still technically haven’t taken me out on a proper date,” you teased. “Don’t think you’re forgiven just yet.”

“Don’t even worry about that, I’ll take you out on the best dates ever. No paparazzis this time. You’ll even choose the movies.”

“Even if it’s a romcom?”

“I kinda grew attached to them because of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Before you could get another comment out, a squeal replaced it as you felt the floor give up under your feet. It took you too long to realize Lando had swept you up in his arms, bridal style and was currently heading down a hallway. Your arms went up around his neck, this time for support. “What are you doing?” You asked with a giggle.

“Taking you to the driver’s room.” Even though you couldn’t manage to see his face, you could practically hear his grin, proud and cocky. “Going to give you reasons to forgive me, we can talk date ideas here.”

“What about the interviews?”

“They can wait.”

Playful protests escaped you under the incredulous eyes of the staff members who saw you disappear behind the white door. You didn’t care. At all. Anxiety be damned, as well as everything that held you back before. Because of this, what you had with Lando, felt perfect. Right. It might be too soon to call it love, but you had no doubt it would come to that sooner than later.

Because the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you, was undoubtedly better than any romance novel you ever read. Because it was real.

©drgnsfly 2k25. do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[murderofravens]

DUSK TILL DAWN

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.

part: 1/3 [finished]

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 6.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore any mistakes.

as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.

it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.

you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?

but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.

then there's the first game— you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.

since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.

you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.

"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"

"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.

"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."

that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."

you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.

"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."

"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."

you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.

"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."

"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you previously saw.

"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."

he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"

he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."

the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.

this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.

001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.

"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"

"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"

"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"

"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"

"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"

that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.

"what did you just say?"

"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."

he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."

since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.

before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.

"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."

you huff bitterly. you know what he means.

"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."

"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.

"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."

"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.

"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.

the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.

that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.

"are you sleeping?" you whisper.

he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"

you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."

he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.

"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"

he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.

you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.

"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.

you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.

you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.

"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.

you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."

when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.

as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."

you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.

"really?" you ask hopefully.

"really." he says kindly.

you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."

you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.

"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."

he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.

breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.

"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."

001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."

"will i?"

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."

he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"

you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."

his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."

your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"

you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."

he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.

you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.

today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.

your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.

when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.

the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?

you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.

"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.

player 001.

your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.

he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"

"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.

"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"

his words make you want to cower in on yourself.

"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."

"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.

he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."

you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.

"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."

he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."

you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."

"call me young-il."

you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"

you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."

he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.

he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.

the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.

it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.

the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.

young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?

"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you two. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.

the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"

instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.

"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.

you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.

thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?

this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.

"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"

you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.

you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.

you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."

you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"

he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."

you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.

you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.

you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.

your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"

you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.

the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.

the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.

young-il killed someone.

"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"

you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.

the doors opened, and the game finished.

while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.

he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.

the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.

one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.

if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"

their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"

player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."

"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"

the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.

player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.

"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.

you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.

456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.

you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.

"you're not eating."

you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."

he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."

you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."

he blinks, nodding.

"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."

your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"

"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."

his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."

you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."

"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"

you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."

he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."

it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."

you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'

some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.

neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.

you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.

his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.

"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.

your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.

he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.

"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.

you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.

"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."

you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.

the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.

soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"

and the next game begins.

A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.

tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies

[aeribbon]

target acquired | oscar piastri

summary; part two here the only thing more dangerous than your job is dating an f1 driver in secret and oh...! oscar is just trying to survive lando's gossip group chat

featuring; f1driver!oscar piastri x bau agent!f!reader

fc; yu jimin

warnings; english isn't my first language + not proof read YET !

an; requested here i tried lol i don't really know a lot about bau/fbi hope you like it !! i have my finals exams next week hurfezpIPFJ

navigation masterlist request

part two here

texts between lando, charles, carlos, george, ollie, pierre, max, alex → oscar

texts between oscar → you

instagram post

f1paddocktea - miami gp

liked by yourusername, yourfriend and 98k others !

f1paddocktea a mysterious girl was seen arriving at the paddock with a part of oscar's team and then headed to the mclaren motorhome ! could this be oscar's girlfriend 💌 ? if you have any more info please send us an email.

view all comments

username she didn’t even look lost. first time in the paddock and she knew where to go. that’s suspicious

username someone said she flashed a badge at some haters. IS THIS A JOKE

username this is giving criminal minds x drive to survive crossover energy and i’m living for it

username she's the badass girl we all want to be omg

username she gave the vibes of someone who has disarmed a man before. with one hand. while texting.

username we have nothing on her. no tagged pics. no pap shots. no soft launch. WHO IS SHE ??

username for real though, never seen someone with zero to none presence online this is so suspicious.

anonymouswagupdates unconfirmed but someone from hospitality said she “doesn’t eat during cases” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN 😭

username i saw her. black boots, dark sunglasses, zero expression. that’s not a random plus one, that’s a mission...

texts between charles, george, ollie and lando

instagram post

kymillman - miami gp

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri, yourusername and 298k others !

kymillman a first official appearance for oscar piastri and his girlfriend in the f1 paddock ahead of today's race !

view all comments

username DAMN

username nvm oscar i don't want you but YOUR GF ??

username never knew oscar had the game to pull of this beauty

username SO YOU’RE TELLING ME SHE’S BEEN IN THE PADDOCK THIS WHOLE TIME?? she's giving secret agent fr

landonorris what you know about that ?

oscarpiastri lando please behave

username she blinked and ferrari fumbled a strategy call. coincidence?? I THINK NOT.

username this explains the sudden confidence boost this season 😌

mclaren our driver’s safe and emotionally supported... and also heavily protected apparently

username she shows up and he wins once again ?? pls come to every race from now on

username YES PLEASE

georgerussell plot twist: oscar’s actually the emotional support boyfriend in this relationship

olliebearman be careful on your words with oscar she might come and get you

username i love how we are all acting as if she’s not here for the grid drama but she’s here to assess threat levels and kiss her man after podium.

username i meannnnnn

texts between lando, charles, carlos, george, ollie, pierre, max, alex → oscar

[bucketbueckers]

TERRITORIAL

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth 👅 (w decent plot - cmon, we know how this goes by now) jealous!p, slight public sex & exhibitionism(?), fingering (r!receiving), packing (🌚), strap (r!receiving), oral (p!receiving), lap dances, spitting, actual warning for men

wc: 8.0k

synopsis: Paige knew what she was signing up for when she asked you, a revered dancer for Dallas’s most prolific strip club, to be her girlfriend, but sometimes she just can’t help getting jealous. Especially when someone thinks they can touch what’s not theirs.

notes: yes the title is from the kali uchis song. if there's any of my fics i recommend listening to the titular song for, this is def one!!! based on this req from 🫦 anon, hoping i did this justice for you and thank you sm for sending this in 🙏 i fear this might be the last fic for a minute - im not dying but i do have to lock in on classes 👎 not proofread but as always though i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

You and Paige weren’t a very…conventional couple by any means. You shouldn’t work well together, but you do.

You’re a stripper – although you prefer the term exotic dancer now, mostly since you’d put an end to some of the services you used to offer – for one of Dallas’s most high profile clubs, Divinity. A corny name that served an even hornier clientele of Dallas’s richest playboys, sleazes, and their countless athletes. You weren’t complaining, though. It’s putting you through college, you’re well on your way to paying off your mom’s house, and you were fortunate enough to have understanding employers who were aware of the ramifications of their business. When you told them that you’d prefer not to perform lap dances or other private shows out of respect for your relationship, they’d readily agreed, a fact you were more than appreciative of.

Paige is one of Dallas’s up-and-coming stars, a bright-eyed, attractive, alluring athlete with the world at her disposal. She was shockingly grounded despite that, humble where you would have expected an arrogant jerk. For all intents and purposes, she wasn’t anything you were preparing yourself for, but you don’t think you’d ever be so thankful to be so surprised.

The two of you have been together for nearly a year, having met during a preseason match during her rookie season. While she was diving for a loose ball near the courtside seats, she ended up at your feet and spilled your drink onto the court. Paige was incredibly apologetic, hardly registering the fact she’d been awarded free throws for the foul, more focused on wiping the water off of your Dunks. After standing and staring at your face for a solid few seconds, as if wondering how you were real and in front of her, she offered to buy you a drink, but the refs were growing impatient and she was out of time.

That didn’t stop her from tracking you down after the game, though. Nor did it stop her from shaking your hand with an enraptured, charismatic little smile, asking for your name and when you’d be free like you’d already accepted her date offer. When you teased her for that, her smile just grew before she pointed out, “Well, you waited for me to come find you. Figured you were at least a little interested.”

In fairness, she was correct. You were interested, not because she was Paige Bueckers or some beginning of a superstar athlete, but because of her humility and how she sank to her knees in front of a sold out arena to dab the water off of your shoes with the hem of her jersey. That meant something to you. So you go out, enjoy the drinks and the company, and you see her again. Then again after that.

Before you could let your relationship grow out of hand, you knew you had to sit her down and explain your profession. You were really into her, but you could see how it could be a dealbreaker for a lot of people, especially since Paige was a public figure. She took it a lot better than you’d been expecting, which led to a lengthy conversation about everything under the sun. She asked if you enjoyed doing it – you did, you were just a dancer at heart and you would be the first to admit that dancing has helped you come out of your shell. 

In turn, you asked her if being with you would make things difficult for her. She was reasonably confused, then almost offended at the idea, before ensuring you that her private life was just that – private. Obviously, being the celebrity athlete she is, it would be near impossible to promise that the two of you could keep things that lowkey, but she was honest and told you upfront that she was falling for you and promised that if push came to shove, the two of you would work through it.

That was the heart of the conversation. Paige asked you to be her girlfriend a week later. It was after a private, rooftop dinner and movie in the fading sunlight of the Dallas summer. You’d said yes, of course, because you were falling hard for her, too. The officiality of your relationship sparked a new conversation regarding boundaries. You agreed on keeping your relationship private, mostly for your benefit – Paige had explained that she could handle the heat on her end, but recognized she had some…hardcore fans, and didn’t want them showing up to your workplace and harassing you.

You told her you’d talk to your employers about dancing only and discontinuing the private shows that people would pay for. It was for both yours and Paige’s peace of mind – you didn’t feel comfortable being so close to other people and performing intimate acts, even if it was your job. It wasn’t necessary and that was a boundary you were willing to enforce because you liked Paige, saw a future with her, and wanted to ensure there was no miscommunication about anything in your relationship. Paige, to her credit, had seemed guilty, making sure to repeatedly emphasize that you didn’t need to change your life or endanger your job for her. You just rolled your eyes, kissed her, and reminded her that you care a whole lot more about her than whether or not old, sleazy men get their rocks off. She’d probably never admit it, but she was relieved that you took that boundary so seriously.

Paige wasn’t known to be an incredibly jealous person. Communication, despite how uncomfortable it could be, was the very foundation of your relationship. The two of you were so secure with one another and any of her jealousy could be derived from a deep-rooted possessiveness.

It’s not the uncomfortable kind where she controls your every move or makes decisions for you – you’d had an ex or two who were like that and you were not keen on repeating that. It was more of a mutual agreement – you were hers, she was yours, and honestly, she was probably developing a bit of a complex about it; you’d perform for a crowd full of people who’d give anything to be with you, but it was her you’d go home to every night. In essence, she just didn’t like it when people got a little too close to what wasn’t theirs.

You and Paige weren’t a conventional couple. But you were a healthy one. You communicated, you had a whole lot of love for each other, and you worked. Despite that, you can’t always control how you feel, and sometimes, Paige just can’t help being jealous.

It was a Friday night at the club and it was already packed wall to wall with patrons, mostly your regulars, but there were also some new faces – investors, foreign athletes, various rookies for the hometown teams. It was a typical show-out, so you weren’t expecting much of it, not until one of your coworkers walks into the dressing room while you’re applying a thin layer of gloss to your lips.

“Never in a million years will you guess who just walked in,” Asha, better known by her stage name Vixen, states in lieu of a greeting. You glance at her through the mirror, your brows raising slightly. She’s dressed to the nines, her make-up gorgeous, and she smoothes out her hair while she waits for your answer.

“Hello, Asha,” you deadpan. “Yes, I’ve had a good day, thanks for asking.”

“Girl!” Asha kisses her teeth while she rolls her eyes at you. “You’re so high maintenance.”

You allow yourself a ghost of a grin, capping your gloss and spinning in your chair to face her. “Okay, who? Was it another rapper? Athletes? Married man?”

“Depends on your definition of rapper; yes, they’re all athletes; and I’m pretty sure there’s at least one or two people in there who are married, but they’re not men,” Asha responds.

You hum. “Well, who are we to yuck their yum?”

Asha huffs, annoyed at the fact that you’re not really reacting, before finally saying, “It’s the Wings, girl. As in the WNBA team. As in First Team All-Studs. I’m either walking out of here tonight with hundreds in my purse or a wife. Shit, maybe Arike’s looking for a third.”

At that, you can’t help but laugh. That morning, before you and Paige went your separate ways – you to the gym and Paige to practice, she’d told you that they’d be out on the town tonight to celebrate some of their rookies, although you thought that would include the bar and some drinks, not a strip club. Knowing Paige, bringing her team to your club wouldn’t have been her first choice, so you figure someone else on her team had the bright idea. You weren’t upset, mostly amused since Paige tends to react to the club in the same way she does while walking through the lingerie section in Victoria’s Secret store – with a lot of dramatic horror like she’s not allowed to look at anyone that’s not you.

You like to joke you have her pretty house-trained, but you find it more endearing than anything else, and you trust your girlfriend.

“I’m sure Arike is very happy in her current relationship,” you say apologetically, knowing first hand that she is. You’d been to their place for dinner many times and Arike practically worships the ground Lala walks on.

“Let me dream,” Asha bemoans. Then, a sly grin appears on her face, and she slides a little closer to you, almost conspiratorially. “You plottin’ on any of them? I think I saw Paige Bueckers out there.”

You smile knowingly, trying not to laugh at Asha’s ignorance – a testament to how quiet you’d kept your relationship. “She’s fine,” you agree, trying to not look too helplessly in love. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll want a private show.”

Her grin widens, but you’re both out of time – one of the stage managers knocks on the door to announce your call time. Asha wishes you luck while you strap on your heels, making your way backstage. The manager guides you to your spot and you take a deep breath in preparation, adjusting the thin, teasing bikini cover over your body. It hides the matching set you’re wearing – an alluring, dark red with glittering rhinestones. You have half a mind to steal it and take it back home with you, but knowing Paige, she’d probably object and buy you a different set entirely for your eyes only.

On cue, you walk out in time with the music, a slow, sultry R&B song, and you make eye contact with the people crowding the stage. The lights, while usually dimmer, have been brightened slightly in preparation for your set. You make your way to the front of the stage, where you’re amused to see your girlfriend and her team waiting. Paige’s eyes brighten at the sight of you, drinking you in, drawing her lip between her teeth almost absentmindedly. 

Deciding to tease her a little, you spin on your heel, your back to her as you pull your cover down inch by devastating inch. Your motions are deliberate, revealing miles upon miles of smooth skin, the lingerie covering your body, the lights catching the rhinestones perfectly. You’re practically glowing. With the cover in your hand, you crouch, making eye contact with Paige, and you smile cunningly at her while you wrap the cover around the back of her neck, pulling her in.

The crowd’s cheering, but you hardly register them as Paige’s hands find your skin. You brush your lips across her ear, knowing you don’t have much time, and you murmur, “What’s the girlfriend gonna think when she finds out you’re at the club?”

Paige slips a crisp hundred dollar bill into your bralette, her hands lingering longer than necessary, but you don’t mind. Her eyes are glued to your chest for a beat, but when they meet your gaze, her pupils are blown wide with desire and a thinly veiled mischief. “Sin now, beg for forgiveness later, right?” she murmurs over the bass of the music. “I’ll make it up to her.”

Your smirk widens and you release her, intending to actually start your set now. You don’t miss how Paige’s teammates jostle her in excitement. Arike was the only one who knew the truth and she just grins knowingly, shaking her head.

You always lock in when you dance, so your set goes by smoothly and ends before you know it. With a smile, you make one last lap around the stage, interacting with the club-goers and winking at the Wings team. If you blew a kiss to them, then that’s no one’s business but your own, but you make your way off the stage and towards your dressing room to change.

Asha’s up next after you, so she congratulates you on a good set before she’s off to do hers. You’re just barely slipping out of your heels when there’s a knock at the door. Thinking it’s a stage manager, you call for them to come in, but you’re surprised when Neil, one of the club managers, walks in. He’s a new face, hired mostly just to fill the vacancy. You don’t know him well – you usually answer to Nicole, but she’s out for the week on a trip.

“Hey, Neil,” you greet, sliding your cover back on to ward off the room’s chill.

“Hello,” he says stiffly. “I’ve got a gentleman in Private Room C. He’s requesting you.”

“I don’t do private dances anymore,” you say, your tone not apologetic. “I think Jess is available.”

Neil sighs. “You know…” he says, trailing off, and you already know he’s about to say something out of pocket. “This is a business. You’re employed here. At a strip club. This is your job. If you were working at McDonald’s, your boss wouldn’t really like it if you refused to make the burger, right?”

You barely resist an eye roll, retorting, “I don’t actually think that’s the same.”

He clears his throat. “Either way, I wasn’t asking. An investor in the private room wants a show from you, so you will do it. You’re the only one here who thinks they’re above the business and refuses to do private shows. Pull your weight or you can find a different club to dance at.”

You raise your brows, meeting his gaze, and smiling in disbelief. “You’re serious?” you ask, laughing uncomfortably. “You can’t fire me. I’ve been here for years.”

“This is Dallas,” he says noncommittally. “We can find someone to replace you. Someone who actually wants to work. Take your pick.”

You stare at him, shaking your head in contemplation. You didn’t want to do the show – it went against the clear boundary you’d set in your relationship early on, one that has been strictly adhered to for the year and some change you and Paige have been dating. But you didn’t want to jeopardize your job, either. Given that Divinity caters to Dallas’s most wealthy, there’s strict rules the patrons have to adhere to to even step foot in the club. It pays extremely well, but this is also the safest you’ll ever be. 

Maybe you’ll get the chance to see Paige before you have to go to the room – just to quickly explain. She’d understand. You knew she would, and that you would make it up to her tenfold. But this feels strangely like betraying her and it leaves a sick feeling in your gut.

“One minute,” you say finally. Neil’s eyes narrow. “One minute is all he gets. You know I don’t do private dances.”

“Five minutes,” Neil bargains. “He’s paying a lot.”

“One minute,” you reiterate. 

“Fine,” he huffs.

You strap your heels back on, trying to control your features. You walk out with Neil following directly behind you. Knowing you won’t be able to detour to find Paige, you slow your steps, scanning the crowd for her. Finally, you spot her at a table in the back, nursing a drink and talking to Arike, clearly not interested in the show anymore. You’re praying for her to look up and meet your gaze before it’s too late – and she does, her expression lighting up at the sight of you before her eyes narrow, knowing where you’re headed. Hoping that she gets the message, you gesture meaningfully to Neil, and she nods, but she looks no less pissed.

Feeling a little more relieved, you try for a smile, pulling back the curtain in the private room and entering. Thankfully, the man sitting on the couch at least looks polite, so you hope that this minute will go by quickly. He attempts to make small talk, commenting on how good your set was as you slide your cover off again, but your heart isn’t in it. Your training goes out of the window and so does every pre-rehearsed line you’ve ever had to use in the past.

You spin, listening for the beat in from the music overhead, but you’re too lost in your thoughts, unable to commit to it fully. Thankfully, you don’t have to for too long because the curtain rips open again.

“Sorry,” Paige says, but she doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic as she steps in between you and the investor, who looks shocked. “She’s spoken for. Scheduling conflict.”

Without waiting for a response from you or the man, she reaches for your cover, wrapping it around your shoulders and ushering you out of the room with her hand on the small of your back. All you feel is a deep relief, letting her lead you to the glass elevators that lead to the private lounges and the managerial offices. The private lounges were usually set aside for reservations, something more elite than the VIP sections, but they’re empty tonight, as are the managerial offices.

The club has a few floors with the managerial offices at the very top. They stick out over the rest of the club almost like a balcony, with floor to ceiling glass walls, allowing for people to stare out at the stage and the seating area, but it’s usually too dim for the patrons to see up. It’s particularly effective for keeping an eye on everything and searching for unruly guests. Up here, it’s like a one way glass – fully private. You can see out but no one can see in.

“I didn’t want to do it,” you rush out as the doors close behind you. You watch the stage disappear as the elevator takes you both up.

Paige’s arm curls fully around your waist, pulling you into her. “I know, baby,” she says, but her voice is still tight. Pissed. Not at you, but at something.

You hardly hear her words. “Neil made me,” you explain, making sure she understands how seriously you see that boundary. You know she knows, but right now, you’re a little anxious, and you want it to be obvious. “He threatened to fire me.”

“I’ll deal with him,” she promises, her voice still dark as she presses her lips to your temple, your forehead. You have no doubt in your mind that she would, but the reassurance makes your heartbeat calm. The elevators open with a sharp ding! Paige leads you out and towards the managerial offices, her hand heavily over your waist, burning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, leaning into her, the cool silk of her fitted, white dress shirt cold against your heated skin. “I was just a little pissed. But I’m good now.” She hums, trailing her fingers down your sides in a way that almost makes you forget. Your body burns for a different reason now. Swallowing thickly, you admit, “Just wanna be close to you.”

You can almost feel Paige’s smile as she dips her head down, her breath hitting your ear. “Do you?” she murmurs, her voice low, sharp, like she’s daring for someone to try to take you away from her. She leads you towards the glass wall, pressing you against it gently, her chest to your back. Your breath hitches, your eyes scanning the floor below you – dozens of people lost in their own world, in the dancer controlling the stage, too unaware of the fact that if they looked up, they’d see Paige Bueckers holding her girlfriend against the glass.

It’s almost thrilling. The fact you can see all of these people, but they can’t see you. You know they can’t see you, even if it looks like they can.

Paige’s hands trail to your shoulders, reaching for your thin, lacy cover, pulling it off with an agonizing slowness. Her lips follow the path, dancing across your shoulders with a gentle laziness, like she has all the time in the world to pick you apart. Her kisses burn, stoking a flame in your belly that’s been ready to ignite since she slipped the bill into your bralette earlier. She calms the heat with her tongue, licking your skin and groaning at the flavor like she can’t get enough of it.

Finally, your cover is off, and she throws it somewhere to the side without a care in the world. Her hands find your hips, squeezing possessively, and a moan slips from your lips when she presses lingering, wet kisses to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin where your neck meets your shoulder. You shudder when her fingers trail down, slipping under the waistband of your lingerie, but she doesn’t touch you – she just hovers. Something about the reminder that despite it all, despite the many different facets of your life that she doesn’t control, that she refuses to control, your pleasure is the one thing she takes the most pride in. She has all the time in the world to figure out how she wants to touch you, how she wants to work you up.

“Just want me to take care of you, don’t you?” she hums against your skin. You nod immediately, feeling the flush settle on your skin, something in your brain floating away because you know you’re safe here. You can relax and let Paige handle it all. She kisses your skin once more before finally, she presses her hips into you, and your breath stutters. You can feel the outline of the strap in her pants, every maddening inch of the silicone. It makes you shudder with want, your arousal already leaking out and soaking your lingerie – you can feel it.

Something smart returns to you and you laugh a little, tilting your head back to rest on her shoulder, letting her wrap you up fully. Slowly, she grinds the strap against you, her breath coming a little heavier due to the dual stimulation. “Optimist, are you?”

Paige bites the lobe of your ear, her smile turning a little dark as she pulls you tighter against her. “JJ wanted to go out,” she murmurs in your ear, slipping her hand fully under the waistband of your lingerie. “Some club called Divinity, she said. Figured my girl would want a little break. Just me and her, a private room. She works so hard, you know?” Her fingers find your wetness like it’s second nature and she groans in delight when she discovers just how slick, how ready you are. “Oh, baby,” she coos, her voice dripping in sin and concern. “All this for me?”

“Nobody else,” you affirm, and she rewards you with a deep kiss to your jaw, a firmer swipe against your clit. It makes your hips buck before she steadies you. “P, please, need it so bad.”

“I know,” she says. Her fingers are everything and nothing, reaching down to your entrance, gathering the arousal pooled there, and using it to rub maddening circles against you. The stimulation is simultaneously overwhelming and not enough, especially coupled with the realization that anyone could look up and see Paige Bueckers ruining you against a window.

Her hips are insistent against yours, controlled in how they give you the slightest bit of friction before pulling away. You’re aware she’s holding you up fully by this point, so you give into it, reaching up with your right hand to thread your fingers through her hair, dragging her back down to your neck.

She doesn’t hesitate, her tongue licking from the base of your throat to your pulse point, smiling when she feels the relentless pounding of your heart against her lips. You can’t find it within yourself to be ashamed, not when her fingers are circling your sensitive clit like her pleasure depends on whether or not you’re feeling good.

“All those people down there…” Paige whispers, her teeth scraping against your skin, the heat of her grin branding her name into your skin. “They don’t know what I have up here. That the woman they throw their salary at comes home to me. That I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. Touch you like this.”

“Fuck, Paige,” you whimper, feeling boneless when her fingers speed up ever so slightly, your body trembling and buzzing under her ministrations. She presses her lips against your shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle there, not letting up until a dark spot blooms under her touch. She kisses it gently, tongue swiping over the mark, almost as though she’s rewarding you for being good, for taking it. Her pride unravels you and your breathing comes in quick bursts, feeling ready to fall apart.

“You want my fingers, mama?” she coos, shaking her head in displeasure when you nod.

She doesn’t have to say anything – you correct yourself immediately when the fingers on your clit slow. Your fingers tighten in her hair for stability as you babble, “Want them, P, please. Want you to make me feel good. Please–” You cut yourself off with a moan when her fingers resume their speed and press a little firmer into you.

“That’s it,” Paige soothes, her lips kissing your heated skin gently, her soft words a gentle contrast from the intensity of her fingers. It’s nearly shocking, the dual sensations muddling your brain. “Lean against the window for me.”

You do as she says, letting her guide you to her liking, your palms pressed flat against the glass. Your forehead presses against the window, the sweat beading at your hairline smudging the surface, and Paige enters your personal space immediately. She tangles her fingers into the waistband of your lingerie and pulls them down your thighs with a devastating slowness, groaning to herself when a strand of your slick sticks to the fabric and breaks when the stretch is too much. The lingerie pools at your knees and Paige presses her hips flush against your ass, grinding against you until you’re pushing back in search of friction.

You don’t have the time to beg. She reads the sheer need in your expression immediately, her arms wrapping around your waist, knees pushing your legs apart. Your breath fogs against the glass, and if you look close enough, you can just barely see your reflection staring back at you – hair messy, lips red from your teeth, the shine of your neck from Paige’s efforts. You can see the sharp outline of her smile, too, like the idea of claiming you in front of everyone in this club is exciting.

She wasn’t usually jealous. You were hers, she was yours, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. But possessive? She wanted to show everyone who you were with, who gets to take the skimpy lingerie off of you after long nights. She wants everyone to be well aware of the fact that while they’re the ones fantasizing, she’s the one who gets to hold, to touch, to ruin you for anyone else.

Her mouth finds your neck while the opening notes of Kali Uchis’s Territorial reverberates through the club below. You can feel the bass coursing through your veins, the tinkling strings raising goosebumps on your flesh. Every sensation nearly fades to background noise when Paige’s fingers settle on your clit again, dragging through your folds to coat them in your slick, and her middle finger probes your entrance before sliding in with ease.

The motion punches dual moans from the both of you, yours in pleasure, hers in a near disbelief. No matter how many times she gets you off, the feeling of your cunt sucking up her fingers is one that gets her right every time. You clench, already feeling her brush against the spot that makes electricity course down your spine, moaning wantonly when she curls just right.

With her free hand, she cups your chest, thumb brushing against a nipple covered by the thin lace of your top. You gasp at the feeling, your forehead dropping onto the glass, fingers twisting around nothing, and the hand kneading your breast redirects to lift your chin. “Watch them,” Paige orders, her voice rough, wrecked. “Let them see who’s fucking you.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, heat coiling in your belly at her words. You try to focus, you really do, but your vision blurs when Paige slides in her ring finger, her pace increasing in speed and intensity. If keeping your eyes on the club below you wasn’t hard enough, then it becomes near impossible when Paige’s slow grind against your ass starts up again, her soft sighs and choked moans like music to your ears as she chases a high you have to strain to see.

Her reflection in the glass is the perfect image of someone who’s ruined. Her hair is a mess from how you tangled your fingers in the strands, her brows pinched together in pleasure when the base of the strap brushes against her clit just right. It’s hot – really, really fucking hot, watching and listening to Paige lose her mind rutting against you while her fingers work you up to a quickly approaching high.

The flames lick at your skin, sweat slicking every inch of your body, your breath fogging the glass in front of you. The knowledge that you’re wholly hers combined with the feeling of her fingers scissoring in and out of you, knowing which buttons to push as if you were an extension of her, makes you keen, your hips unsure of whether or not they should buck into her or grind down in time with her fingers. You settle on both, gyrating and chasing your high, but you all but whine when her hand abandons your chin to press against your sensitive clit.

It’s overwhelming – Paige’s fingers curling inside you, pushing in and out relentlessly, her opposite hand rubbing delicious circles against your needy clit, the strap against your ass, your nipples brushing against the cool glass, and the breathless sound of your girlfriend’s moans as she gets off behind you is enough to push you closer and closer to the peak. With a broken gasp, you cry out, “Fuck, P, close,” and she nods against the sweat-slick skin of your neck.

Her hips slam into yours with a little more intensity, pushing you into the glass, both of her hands increasing their pace and pressure in tandem. “I know, mama,” she rasps, leaving marks on your skin, the indents of her teeth left in their wake. Paige sounds destroyed, like she’s moments away from unraveling completely. All that does is push you to the edge. “Give it to me, baby. Gonna make me so proud, aren’t you? My perfect girl.”

You come with a breathless shudder, unable to force the words through your windpipe, and Paige sags against you, her lips jerking messily while her fingers slowly work you through the lingering shockwaves of your orgasm. The cool glass is like a balm against your skin, the sensation so needed while your skin burns and sizzles from the electricity. Paige is panting heavily into your ear – it reminds you that she’d gotten off, too, just from grinding against you. That makes the heat coiling in your belly return tenfold.

You push yourself off of the glass window, hardly thinking about the smudges on the surface, and Paige steadies your hips when your legs tremble. You turn in her embrace, smiling when she wraps you up, pressing your back against the glass now. She kisses your lips – deep, lingering, tongue probing for an entrance that you grant immediately. With her left hand, she pulls your lingerie off completely, tossing the bottoms to the side haphazardly, and she lifts you into her arms with ease. Your legs wrap around her waist, arms around her neck, as she begins mouthing down your chest.

“Nicole’s gonna be so pissed when she gets back from her trip and realizes someone got defiled against her glass window,” you mutter in between heaving breaths.

Paige smirks against your skin, dragging your bra down with her teeth, encircling a nipple with her lips, causing you to gasp. “Defiled is crazy work,” she mumbles. “I prefer worship.”

“You’re annoying,” you say, your body betraying your words when you arch into her mouth.

She squeezes your ass, walking the two of you backwards until her knees hit an armchair and she sinks down, pulling you onto her lap. The front of her pants are wet – you can’t tell if it’s yours, or hers, or a mixture of both, but it just makes you hungry when you pull her up to kiss you again. “You’re spoiled,” she retorts, fingers reaching up for the clasps of your bra. You let her pull it off you completely, smiling to yourself when she stares at you like you’re one of the ancient wonders of the world. “And so, so fucking fine. Jesus.”

You laugh against her lips, your fingers working on unbuckling her belt. She lifts her hips to help you pull her pants and boxers down in one quick motion and you quirk a brow at the sight of the slick between her thighs. You swipe a finger through the wetness accumulated on her legs, sucking it into your mouth with an indulgent moan. That makes the smug smile on her face disappear, and she grips your thighs tightly like she’d lose her mind if you weren’t on her strap immediately. “Can’t believe you came untouched,” you tease, your fingers dancing across the silicone gently. Paige tenses like she could feel it.

“You could touch me right now and fix that,” she offers, voice a little choked, her hips bucking up in invitation. You can’t help the way your mouth waters, knowing that Paige would have you right in minutes.

Instead of giving her what she wants, you stand up, your heels still giving you a slight height advantage over her as she manspreads in the armchair. She pouts, looking disappointed at your departure, but you lean over her and begin unbuttoning her shirt. With your breasts so close to her face, she looks determinedly less upset, although you have to swat her hand away when she tries to touch you.

“Rule one of lap dances,” you murmur, voice silky smooth, “is that you can’t touch the performers.”

“Shit,” she breathes, eyes widening in realization. “You’re killin’ me, mama.”

With her shirt fully unbuttoned, you slide it off her shoulders, leaving her in a dark sports bra. You grin at her wickedly, pulling her shirt over your arms as you coo, “I know.” Her jaw falls open in lust and disbelief at the sight of you – messy, fucked out, and wearing nothing but your heels and her shirt, which is multiple sizes too big on you. You don’t button it, but the message is the same. Paige always liked seeing you in her clothes, and now? You can tell she’s actually going to lose her mind.

She leans back in the armchair, one hand gripping the armrest, the other resting on her thigh, fingers twitching. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen so much unadulterated want on her face. With the Kali Uchis song still playing distantly in the club, you stalk over to her in slow, calculated movements, hips swaying. Paige doesn’t know where to look – your face, your chest, the glistening spot in between your legs. She breathes heavily the closer you get.

You settle both hands on the armrests, leaning over her, not reprimanding her when her lips brush against your chest, seeking out your nipples. You inch closer to her ear, breath fanning against the shell of it as you murmur the lyrics of the song to her. “See, I’m a lover, but I’ll go to war about mine, toe to toe.” Her breath hitches, but you’re gone as quickly as you’d come, turning your back to her.

Your hips move sensually, hypnotically, and you can feel that you have Paige’s undivided attention. Reaching for her left hand, you bring it to your waist, allowing her to lift the back of your shirt so she can get a clear view of your ass. She groans emphatically, her hand falling to squeeze your flesh. It makes your breath catch, too, the feel of her hand swallowing your skin.

You spin around again, the song fading away with the lyrics, “Once I claim my territory, I get territorial,” but you stop in your tracks. Paige’s free hand is wrapped around the strap, stroking absentmindedly as if it were an extension of herself, veins popping and expression gone. You’re throbbing immediately, wanting nothing more than to crawl onto her lap and let her have her way with you, but she takes matters into her own hands.

Paige reaches out for you, spinning you until your back is to her, and she lowers you gently. You sink down slowly. The stretch is delicious, nearly overwhelming as it splits you open, and the both of you moan at the feeling. Both of her hands reach up to cup your breasts as your ass settles flush against her lap, the strap hitting deep inside, and you’re feeling so wound up you could probably fall apart right now with her breathing unevenly in your ear, fingers tweaking your nipples, and her hands kneading your breasts.

Her manspread widens, her hips bucking up to drag the strap in and out of you. You grip the armrest with both hands, using it to lift yourself up and down, head throwing back in a drawn out moan when Paige emphasizes a thrust with a pinch. The slight sting of pain mixes with the pleasure, creating a heady, devastating feeling in your core, and you melt when Paige licks a stripe up your neck again, sucking bruises into the skin of your shoulder.

Her right hand drops, leaving her left to brush against your nipples, traveling down your front to brush through your folds. You gasp at the feeling, whimpering when she coats her fingers in your slick and starts circling your clit again. She curses under her breath. You can’t tell for sure if it’s because of the sheer amount of wetness waiting for her or if it’s because she glanced down, watching your cunt suck the strap right in. Regardless of the reasons, her hips are canting up against yours, timing your thrusts together.

It doesn’t take long before moans are tumbling from your lips quicker now. Her fingers speed up, rubbing against your oversensitive clit with precision and pressure, the hand that was fondling your breasts dropping down to your hip to help you ride her, your legs giving out from the pleasure and the exertion. She’s rambling nonsense in your ear, more sound than words, but you’re able to make out, “You feel so good, mama, taking me so well. So fucking perfect for me. Want you to come for me, please, baby – give it to me–”

The sound of her breathless moans in your ear, the pressure of her fingers on your clit, her hand bruising your hips – it’s enough to send you over the edge. With hardly a warning, you spill all over her lap, your slick soaking the strap, the armchair beneath you, and she brings you down from your high with incoherent words and slowing her thrusts and fingers.

Energy gone, you’re more than ready to curl up with her in this armchair, but her hips shift – discreetly, like she’s still searching for her release and trying to play it off like she’s just trying to get comfortable. It makes you feel guilty immediately. She makes a soft noise of protest as you hoist yourself off her lap, your legs wobbling, and she shoots forward to steady you, a look of confusion on her face. The confusion melts into desire when you sink to your knees before her, fingers reaching to unbuckle the harness, but she pauses you with a hand to your wrists.

“You don’t gotta–” she tries, but you cut her off with a firm, “Paige Madison,” and she shuts up immediately, leaning back in the armchair. You haphazardly discard the strap to the side, curling your arms around her thighs. Before you press your lips to her dripping cunt, she grabs your loose hair, holding it in a ponytail with her hand. You kiss her clit in thanks, smiling when her hips jolt and she sighs softly.

You brush the flat of your tongue across her slit in one smooth motion, moaning at the taste and at the feeling of her grip tightening in your hair, dragging you closer to her. Listening to her wordless command and knowing that she probably doesn’t need much to come, you drink her up like you’re parched, sucking her clit in your mouth and suctioning with your lips. Paige grunts, her hips bucking up, and you don’t stop her, letting her chase her high against your mouth.

You alternate between kitten licks against her clit and long, flat strokes of your tongue against her cunt. It’s not often that you get to see her like this – fucked out and ruined, pliant and soft beneath you, dripping messily onto the surface below, but it never fails to activate a part of your brain that wants to watch her come over and over again.

Wanting to see her fall apart beneath you, you double down on your efforts, your tongue sliding messily through her folds and sucking at her clit until she cries out. You tighten your grip just as she tightens her grip on your hair, pulling you even closer into her – and if this is the last thing you see before you drown, her soaked cunt and the watery, pleading expression on her face, then you think you’d die a happy woman.

“Fuck, mama, ‘m so close,” she rambles, her hips moving against you with a fervor, chest heaving. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

You hum against her, and she whines, moans falling from her lips until she chokes on the last one. Her thighs tense around you, caging you in as she comes, a long, drawn out groan reverberating through the room while you work her through the aftershocks. You lick once more, twice, until she releases your hair and pushes you away, too sensitive after two orgasms.

Paige doesn’t let you get too far. She pulls you back onto her lap, arms wrapping around your waist while you wipe her slick off of your cheeks, sucking the taste off of your fingers. She catches your wrist on the last one, sucking your thumb into her mouth and humming emphatically at your combined tastes. You smile coyly at her, thinking about nothing more than getting her home tonight and making her writhe. You sit motionlessly in her lap while she cleans off all of your fingers.

“You want more?” you ask teasingly, not really meaning it, but raising your brows when she nods quickly, her eyes blown wide. The heat is already licking at you as you grip her jaw with one hand, leaning over her face, and her mouth opens obediently. You let a string of saliva fall from your mouth directly onto her tongue and she swallows immediately with a low groan of pleasure.

You don’t get to say much else before she’s pulling you back in, your lips crashing together messily, her tongue swiping across your lips in search of more. It draws a ragged moan from you, one that she monopolizes on instantly. It’s like she’s trying to swallow you alive, to memorize the way you taste when her slick is on your tongue. It makes your brain spin pleasantly before she pulls away, a dangerous sort of glint in her eyes, but it softens when she sees the blissed out smile on your face.

“You okay?” she murmurs, squeezing your hips, and just like that, the heat of the moment fades – for now.

“I should be asking you that,” you joke. “Could have sworn you blacked out for a moment.”

“Shit, I might have,” she agrees, drawing a breathless giggle from you. You lean your head on your chest, listening to the vibration of her voice against you as she asks. “For real. You’re okay?”

You don’t have to ask for clarity to know she’s referring to before, to Neil. “I’m okay,” you promise, more glad than anything that Paige came in when she did. “Nicole’s gonna be pissed, though. Not even about the window.”

Paige hums, the sound almost noncommittal, but you’ve been with her long enough to know she’s being dead serious about a situation. If the moment were any lighter, she’d probably make a joke about you snitching – but you might be the one thing in the world she doesn’t play about. “I’ll handle him,” she swears, her tone hard enough that it makes you shift on her lap. She doesn’t even notice, which amuses you, but she continues speaking, her voice thoughtful. “I know you like working here. Dancing. It’s safe for you. But don’t let that make you feel like…you don’t have other options, you know? As long as I’m around, you don’t have to worry. Don’t let Neil – or anyone else – threaten to take this place away from you. Your safety and happiness are important to me.”

You soften, her words hitting home. Paige doesn’t pressure you to say anything – she never does, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin. “Thank you,” you say eventually, and she makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, like that’s something she needs to be thanked for. Paige would move mountains for you – you knew that. “I appreciate that. And for you looking out for me.”

Paige presses a soft kiss to your lips, smiling against your skin, and she murmurs, “You’re my girl. I’ll always look out for you. Especially when you dance like that.”

You roll your eyes as she laughs, but you’re inexplicably happy. You kiss her again, softly requesting, “Take me home?” and Paige doesn’t hesitate. Not even a little bit, even though her clothes are a mess, her mascara is flaking, and she looks like she’s been put through a woodchipper. Your girlfriend might be a little territorial, but the one thing you know about her is that she’s always going to make sure you’re taken care of.

(When you wake up in the morning to Paige’s smug grin, you check the work group chat at her insistence, where Nicole is informing everyone about Neil’s termination. 

“Neil got fired,” you say flatly.

“Oh, wow,” Paige says innocently, but her beaming grin breaks through her feigned nonchalance. “That’s really unfortunate.”

You huff in amusement, turning off your phone and setting it on the nightstand. You swing a leg over her waist to straddle her and she wastes no time before resting her hands on your hips, sinking into the pillows beneath her, a chain glimmering in the morning sunlight, her smile far too satisfied. “You’re insane,” you murmur, like it bothers you. It doesn’t.

“Mmm,” she hums, pulling you down to her level to kiss you. “Think you like it.”

All you can do is grin, because you do. You really, really do like it.)

[caitlynsrighteye]

Our Secret

G!P Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader

Heir to the high social status name, Kiramman, should only be paired within the same class standard. Yet, she's fallen for (reader), a girl that is, let's say, not upper class.

Contains: Modern AU, fluff, smut with plot, secret relationship, basketball!G!P!Caitlyn wlw, fem!reader, cunnilingus, couch sex, car sex, almost getting caught, characters are 18+, in 4th year high school (old enough to fuck, but young enough for parents to still have control of their lives lol)

wc: 3.5k

Masterlist Part 2

Born into generational wealth with high status due to her parents' success in business and entrepreneurship. Caitlyn is expected to live up to the same fate, whether it's from her own success or married into another rich family.

That is what Caitlyn planned in order to please her parents.

Until her eyes landed upon you. Beautiful, nonchalant. The sway of your hips as you roam the halls of Piltover High. You were simply walking to your next class before the bell rang, but to Caitlyn, why did time seem too slow when her gaze averted to you?

You, on the other hand, did not bat an eye or spare a second glance. You paid no attention to snotty rich athletes. Especially one as popular as the navy-haired girl. Whom always seemed to have a new girl wrapped around her slim finger every week. She wasn't just the school's top basketball player she WAS a player, and you had no interest in being used.

She noticed you around more. During the passing period, the library, even sitting in the stands as you watch her team, play on the court.

Vi, your best friend. Practically grew up with each other along her sister and brothers. The redhead was also on that team you were cheering for. The game was going well with Piltover in the lead. Each shot Caitlyn took, she always looked your way to make sure you were watching (show-off) and surprisingly didn't miss a single one, like you were her goodluck charm (or maybe just being a try hard to impress you).

The team of Piltover Blue jerseys ran onto the other teams side, ready to score again. Vi passed up all opponent team players, dribbling the ball with skilled precision, ready to pass to Caitlyn. The tall athlete was ready for the pass, yet subconsciously glanced your way, and the ball being passed to her hit her straight in the head. The impact created an embarrassingly loud boing sound. While you watched too.

After the game, Caitlyn walked out of the lockerroom, icepack in hand was placed on her black swollen left eye. She saw you talking with your strong built friend. Before Caitlyn could walk away and sulk, Vi looked over her shoulder and called the girl over.

"Oye! Super star, come over here," said Vi. The blue-eyed player sighed and turned around slowly before walking in your direction. Her face was flushed. Not a clue if it was from the recent game or the embarrassment of you looking at her in her current state.

"We won, but at what cost?" The redhead laughed, patting Caitlyn on the shoulder. Caitlyn usually had this confident demeanor in her stance, but now her back was slightly slouched, and the hand that wasn't holding onto the icepack was cluthing onto one of her backpack straps.

"There was something in my eye, wasn't ready to- " she was interrupted by vi, "Yeah sure, Cupcake," Caitlyn scoffed at the nickname. Violet's phone dings as she gets a text message. "Oh, Powder's waiting for me in the car, gotta go, see ya later, pirate," she says, teasing Caitlyn. She nods in your direction as a fair well, leaving you and the tall player alone.

All was silent until you broke it. "Don't mind Vi, are you alright?" You chuckle in between your sentences. Her gaze leaves the floor where she is staring down at her untied laces. "Yeah, totally. T'is no big deal, didn't even hurt," she tried to play it off, even knowing that her eye throbbed against the coolness of the bag.

Looking back, you never actually talked to the girl, nor did you know that she had an accent. It was quite cute if you were being completely honest.

"So, uh, nice to meet you... cupcake?" She sighed before speaking. "You can just call me Caitlyn, please," you bit your lip, surpressing a laugh, ready to burst out.

"Alright, Caitlyn," the sound of her name rolling off your tongue sent butterflies to her stomach. "I'm Y/n-".

"We had bio together 2nd year," she blurted out, unaware of how she just happened to remember that in that moment. You stared at her with wide eyes as she let go of her bag strap to scratch behind her neck that didn't even itch, tugging on the small hairs that couldn't be pulled into a ponytail.

She stood there even more embarrassed. Where did all this awkwardness come from. It was usually so easy for her to talk to girls, but something about you made her knees buckle and stomach turn.

There was some small talk between the two of you before you realized it was getting late and you're still standing in the halls of the school. Caitlyn offered to walk you back to your car, and you obliged in appreciation.

-

For the next few weeks, the only messages Caitlyn waits and picks up for are yours. The both of you had grown fond of each other. Hanging out, at first, it was with Vi, but soon ended up with just the two of you alone. She would walk you to your classes, not bothering about the time she had left for passing period. Jogging towards your spot in the bleachers after games.

All the girls she was once in contact with were blocked on her phone. She only had eyes for you.

Months pass, and you finally give in to her flirtatious gestures. One study night at her place, you both laid on her queen sized bed. Your backpacks are sitting on the floor of her bed, binders and papers cover the end of her matress as you both were making out on her freshly cleaned sheets. Legs tangled with each other as you and her laid on your sides. Your arms around her neck as she has one hand behind your head, pulling you impossibly close, and her other roaming the curves of your side. You were both lost in each others grasp.

For so long, she dreamt of finally being able to touch you as she palmed herself late at night in her bed. And here you were, tongues exploring each others mouths, saliva strings connecting your lips to her plump ones.

So lost in each other that you almost missed the knock at her bedroom doors. The handle turned, and the door creaked open. You both pushed off each other. Your push was accidentally too aggressive as she fell off the side of her bed with a thud. The bed was angled enough from the door so that when Caitlyn's mom, Cassandra, entered the room, the blue-haired girl was out of sight.

"Hello, Y/n, do you happen to know where Caitlyn had gone off to?" Her poor mother, so polite. You are sat up on her comforter with homework placed in front of your lap. "She's in the restroom, Mrs. Kiramman," you say, hiding the fact that you're out of breath and your face is bright red like a tomato. "So, I see. When she comes back, please let her know to come to my office for a moment," The older woman closes the door behind her after you say, "Of course, maam".

After a long minute of waiting for her mother to leave down the hall, you crawl to the side of the bed and see Caitlyn on her back with her arm slung over her face, holding back a silent laugh. You both begin to laugh as you asked, "Are you okay?" You grab her arm to remove it from her beautifully sculpted features. Her deep blue eyes meet yours, and you're mesmerized. "I'm alright, thank you," she sits up, and before you can say another word, she pulls you from the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss.

-

Soon after, she takes you out and asks you to be her girlfriend, but with a boundary of keeping it a secret. The more people are aware of the newfound relationship, the more likely her parents would find out. It didn't bother you to the core, but it was different.

As if luck wasn't on your side, her parents almost always managed to catch you both barely while you work at each others bodies.

One evening, she invited you over for a movie night, and the next thing you know, you're pushed deep into the plush couch of her living room with your thighs squeezing around her head tightly, as she's kneeled on the floor with your fingers tangled into her luscious navy blue hair and your other hand gripping the cushions behind you. The Kiramman heir is talented with her tongue. Swiping up long stripes from your entrance to your aching clit. The sounds were lewd, wet and loud, of her ravaging your pussy that needed her mouth so badly. You've ever felt such ecstacy before meeting her. Feels as if the moment you two began being intimate with each other, she knew where to please you and knew what would feel good.

Your irises rolled back, and your toes clung to the fabric of her shirt. Your moans were like music to her ears, wishing she could have you like this always. Both her hands grabbed at your flesh. One giving special attention to the mounds of fat on your chest and the other thrusting two fingers into your pulsing heat, curling them at a certain angle that drove you over the edge.

The air felt hot and heavy. Caitlyn's dick was out free and soaked in your spit from your ealier oral attention, her tip rubbing against the cloth of the couch. She humped against it, creating friction she needed. All was well till you saw silhouettes of a man and woman outside the window curtains near the front door.

Through broken moans you panick, "Ah- Fuck... Cait," you tug her hair and she looks at you confused before turning to the door. She quickly, but carefully picks you up off the couch. As soon as your feet hit the cold floor, you felt like jelly. Bad timing for Caitlyn to take your ability to walk. She brought you over to a nearby closet filled with hanging jackets and shelves of shoes and shoved your clothes into your arms before giving you a quick peck to your lips.

She practically jumped into her sweatpants and tucked her spit-slicked cock into the waistband to hide her hardened length. Her parents' keys could be heard as it worked to open the large door. When the noble couple stepped inside, their daughter sat on the couch watching where you and her left off on the movie.

"Hello, Caitlyn," her mother greets. Her father was about to say the same before he sniffed the air and tugged to loosen the business tie around his neck. "Darling, what is that smell?" He says, looking around the room. Caitlyn, with a nonchalant look to her face while she lights a candle on the side table next to the couch. "Im not sure," Sweat threatened to slide down her temple. Her blue eyes darted to the closet door that you hid in. Mr. Kiramman walked in your direction to put his coat away. She never stood so fast in her life she thought she'd pass out. Walking over to her father, she guides him to a small table where she had put the mail. "Dad, I saw this envelope from earlier, looks important," she put the pile of mail in his hands. "Oh well, thank you, Caitlyn," he says before heading towards his office where his wife followed after him.

"Phew," she sighed, hurrying towards your hiding spot where you had your hand covering your mouth to shield your heavy breaths. She opened the sliding doors to your shocked state, worried that you had been caught. You were still naked, legs shaking with arousal dripping down your skin. She gently caresses your cheek, comforting a soft smile from your lips. You take her hand as she helps you out of the closet, bringing you to the closest bathroom where she had you sit on the counter and helped you back into your clothes. Unfortunately, you both blue balled that night.

-

There was one place where Mr and Mrs. Kiramman couldn't catch you and your super hot girlfriend, the backseat of her car in a dark empty parking lot being lit by the tall light polls. Being the offspring of two rich, important people, she drove a huge murdered out cadillac escalade. The windows were tinted, and the interior was expensive leather. The backseat was large enough and had room for you both to lay.

The sun had gone down a few hours ago. Caitlyn had taken you out to a nice dinner after her team had won a basketball championship while being mvp on the court. The gym was filled in cheers from the crowd, and her teammates shouted in victory. Vi ran up to Cait and lifted her off her feet to congratulate the star of the game. The restaurant was dimly lit by glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and candles placed on tables. The navy-haired woman was cleaned up, wearing a black pant suit with her hair down resting on her broad shoulders.

As you sat down, she wanted to be extra fancy by ordering wine, but she got ID'd for not being 21 by the waiter (buzz kill). She was romantic and knew how to bring your face to a bright red. Knew how to make you laugh and overall make you want to bend over for her. Dinner was good, yet unbearable with the ache between your legs. The two of you basically hurried out of there, almost forgetting to pay.

Now, here you are, both sat in the backseat, straddling her bare lap as you bounced on her hardened cock. Your bodies fully exposed to each other with goosebumps along your skin. Hands on her shoulders, as hers gripped your hips with bruising strength. Your lips were attached to her neck, sucking and biting the flesh, turning it purple. Her head was thrown back on the seat with her eyes closed tightly. You watched in awe how undone you've made her. Her face wincing from the squeezing pleasure you've given her. Causing you to gain the stamina to bounce harder on her.

Caitlyn was lost in the deep red sea of your pussy as you tightened around her shaft. Each bounce stroked her from tip to hilt repeatedly. Her cock was so deep inside, it kissed your cervix painfully, your clit making contact with her pelvis as you landed.

The windows were completely fogged over, with handprints scattering its area. Her car rocked with each movement. Both your moans overcame the music playing on the bluetooth. The claps of your skin colliding with hers rang in your ears.

"Ha- fuck," you moaned. Caitlyn was not paying attention. Her head was still thrown back as she just sat there enjoying as you rode her. You took one of your hands from her shoulders to tug at her ponytail, bringing her face towards yours. Her eyelids drooped, looking fucked out and exhausted. She crashes her lips onto yours, kissing you hard. The kiss was messy, and your tongues danced together. Saliva strings connecting you both together.

Your movements began to slow as you grew tired. As if energy was transferred over, her kiss became brutal. Tongue dominating yours to explore the inside of your mouth. Her body leaned into you to get closer. If getting closer was even possible at this point. She pulled away from the kiss to watch as your body moved.

Grinding down on her, her erection rubbed against your sweet spot deliciously. Her sapphire eyes stared onto your perfectly round boobs, taking one nipple into her mouth sucking it hard like a hungry babe. "Fuck baby, you're so good," she said, mouth full of your chest mounds. The grip on your hips started to get rough as she helped you move, getting your body to continue bouncing. The sounds of your moans against her ear and your wet cunt swollowing her long cock whole was obscene. Straight out of a porno.

She had never felt this good before. Never with any other girl she's fucked for her own enjoyment made her feel the way she feels in this moment. Never had one of those girls made her fall head over heels. She was in love with you and wanted only you.

Her mouth left your boob with a pop. With the remaining strength and endurance she had left in her, she lifted you. Without pulling out of your cunt to pushed you down onto the center console. Your body getting stuck between the driver and passenger seat. With a shocked expression on your face, you watched her smirk stupidly before her hips took off. Pounding into you with such speed and force behind each thrust till her thighs burned from the awkward position. Your body moved upwards with each stroke she gave you, and you winced in pain when your skin skid along the leather seats. Your fingernails dug into her shoulders, creating scratch marks ready to bleed.

Your moans grew louder, and her balls slapped against your ass. You felt evey thick vein of her cock rubbing your inner walls. The head breaking through you made you feel like you'd be split into two. "Ahh Cait! You're gonna m-make me fucking cum," you lifted your head to watch her dick disappear within you. Your eyes almost rolled back at the sight of her thrusting into you. Her forhead slick with sweat, bottom lip between her teeth, her boobs bouncing with each pound of her hips onto yours. She gasped, close to her nut bust she watched her dick print on your lower tummy. It turned her on so much more. Her palms pressed down onto where she could see her dick going in and out of you, tickling your g-spot from the outside. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your velvet walls clenched onto her girth. She moan in unison with you. "Shit so tight. Wanna cum in you," her jaw tensed as you were clamped down hard onto her.

"Fuck fuck Cait!" You screamed. Squeezing her member hard, her balls tightened. You squirted all over her. Your hot fluids coating her pelvis. White cum burst from her tip and into you. Her strokes were slower, riding out both your highs. Long and deep strokes. Your body shook from the intense orgasm. Her eyes were glued to you the whole time while she took control. She craved the faces you made while she fucked you into a mindless sack of flesh. Regaining consciousness from your high, your eyes locked to hers. She stood awkwardly over you, trying to catch her breath before pulling her sore cock out of you.

It's as if the whole world went silent, and you and her were at the center of it all. Your gaze lingered onto hers before following a bead of sweat down to her swollen glossy lips. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you pulled her in to taste the sweet padding of her lips. She sighed into it, feeling relaxed and loved within your grasp. Something she felt safe and vulnerable in.

The kiss broke, and she nuzzled her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sent of your perfume and sweat. She placed soft pecks to the hickeys on your neck. Kisses that lead up your jaw to your cheek, then reached your forhead. After one final peck to your hairline, she looked up to see the time on the dashboard screen.

She sighed, "It's 3am," she watched as your eyebrows rose and your forhead wrinkled. "Oh shit," you say. A smile widened across your face as you do your best not to giggle. Yet, failed once she began to laugh with you. It wasn't a hilarious laugh it was more comfortable and soft sounding. Like, 'Oh my gosh, we were so caught up in the moment we didn't realize how late it had gotten'.

"Mum and dad are going to kill me," she rested her forhead against yours. You chucked and said, "We'll come up with an excuse."

"I love you."

You stared into her eyes blankly. Surprised by the sudden confession. Her body lifted, just as shocked as you were before taking a deep breath to keep eye contact with you.

"I love you, Y/n," she said it more confidently. It's been months since you both began dating, and you've gotten to know each other for almost a year by now. Confessing love was bound to happen sooner or later.

Your expression relaxed, and a sly smile spread on your lips. "About time, cupcake," you teased. "Oh, you shut up," she laughed.

"I love you too, Caitlyn Kiramman"

_________________________________________

Note: IT IS SO HARD FOR ME TO WRITE SMUT BC I JS WANNA WRITE BACKGROUND AND PLOT TO ITTTT AHHHH!

Also ps: i keep seeing hcs of Caitlyn loving to have reader ride in cowgirl position... and never see it in fics like i eat up that hc sm ugh, need to save a horse so bad🧎🏻‍♀️

Thanks for reading♡ lemme know what you think :)

[cherrixpie]

ACCISMUS

↬ maybe it was stupid trying to make theodore nott jealous by going to the yule ball with mattheo. maybe.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.4k; cw: violence, suggestive; theo nott x reader, friends to lovers

( masterlist )

Mattheo Riddle was a genius. At least after today he was. Though it wasn't like he wasn't sharp, it was more so the fact that his desire to punch someone got in the way of his composure that had earned him the reputation of a beater rather than a schemer. Usually, it was Theodore with the observant eyes, perfect composure and the thoroughly thought-out plans. Mattheo would know, as Theo’s quick-witted responses and excuses were likely the only reason he hadn't been kicked out yet. But today, he would turn the tables.

As usual, younger students jumped out of his way as he stormed through the halls, climbing the stairs that led up to Gryffindor tower. A group of his peers that were climbing out of their common room entrance cast him incredulous looks as Mattheo surged forward to hold it open and slip in in their wake. The second he entered the lion’s den, conversations fell silent and a sea of Gryffindors wearing expressions of varying shock stared at him, standing panting before the exit.

With a sweeping glance, Mattheo spotted you, sitting by the fire with your friends and playing chess against Weasley. When he had entered, you had looked up from your game and were now looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He called your name and motioned outside, hoping you'd get the hint. You did and rose from your seat, quelling the nervous remarks of your Gryffindor friends.

In spite of your house, you had been included in Mattheo’s friend group ever since you’d had a charms project with Enzo in fifth year, who had introduced you to them. Against all odds, it had been an instant match, and you hung out with them whenever you could, even though your housemates had been opposing the idea from the start.

Now, you stifled their complaints and slipped past Mattheo out of the portrait hole, who followed in suit, not sorry to leave the room of judging stares behind. When he let the portrait fall back into place, he found you frowning at him. “Did you run all the way up here, Mattheo?”

“Maybe,” he grinned cheekily and you rolled your eyes, though actual annoyance was missing from both your eyes and voice. “Whatever for?”

His appearance was slightly unnerving. Though completely out of breath and heaving heavily, an eager, almost crazed smile tugged at his lips and his eyes glinted dangerously. “I have a proposition for you,” Mattheo grinned and you sighed. Oh Merlin. You were going to get roped into another one of his schemes, weren't you?

“So, here’s the deal,” Mattheo whispered conspicuously and dragged you into a darker part of the corridor. “I think we can both do each other a favor that benefits both of us.” He swatted his hand at your skeptical expression. “I mean, actually benefitting both of us.”

“Let's hear it,” you replied and crossed your arms. You had your doubts wether this wasn't just an elaborate plot advantageous to exactly one person: Mattheo. That wasn't prejudice talking, but experience. Just a few years ago, you would've thought it impossible that you would be friends with Mattheo Riddle one day, but he had turned out to be a genuinely funny and easy to talk to person. But that didn't mean you trusted him when he looked at you like that. Especially because Mattheo had a way of causing trouble that rivaled Harry Potter’s.

“Be my date for the Yule ball,” Mattheo blurted out and your brows only rose higher.

During the last few weeks, nobody had known another topic of interest than the Yule ball that would take place at the end of the week, the hustle and bustle around it had been exhausting. Not to mention the drama resulting from the dating rumors. Secretly, you’d been hoping that Theo would ask you out. You had been crushing on him since even before you were properly introduced, and befriending him had only intensified your feelings for him. But he hadn't made a move. And now this.

“How would that benefit either of us?” you said, stunned. “What use could either of us possibly have to gain from stepping on each other's toes for a whole evening?”

“Well,” Mattheo started, rubbing his neck. “Ya see, I have a lot of … options, but I don't want anyone to become attached and start bugging me or expecting a relationship.” He pulled a disgusted face and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Out of his whole friend group, who were all very sexually active, Mattheo had earned himself the title of the biggest whore, but it looked like that came to beat him in the ass for the first time.

“Why don't you go alone, then?” you asked sensibly. “I'm sure no one is going to doubt your sexual prowess just because you go solo to the Yule ball.”

Mattheo shook his head. “Not an option. I did a bet with Draco and I have to eat a hundred living flubberworms if I don't get a date.” A shudder ran through his body at the thought. “So I’m thinking I'll just ask a friend. But Pansy and Blaise are going and Draco and Daphne have made arrangements and Merlin forgive me for not wanting to go to the ball with Enzo or Theo.”

You couldn't help the snort that escaped you and turned into a laugh at the incredulous look he gave you. “God, Mattheo, I can't believe it. This is absurd.”

Patiently, Mattheo waited for you to come down from your laughing fit. “So, what do you say, angel? I can dance, I promise.”

“What's wrong with going out with Enzo or Theo?” you asked elusively. Though you had become used to the looks and stares that you earned every time your friendship to the Slytherin gang came up, you weren't keen on the attention you’d get for going out with the Dark Lord’s son, even if it was merely platonic.

“Come on,” Mattheo pleaded with you and it was a genuinely curious sight to hear him beg. “Think about what's in it for you!”

“Having to listen to you for hours on end and a public witch hunt?”

“Aha!” he called and sprung up. “That's where part two of my plan comes in.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he waved his hands to stop you. “Listen to this. I get to escape the flubberworms and the nosy girls and you get to make Theo jealous.” Ignoring your spluttered response, he continued. “That boy’s head over heels for you, and with a little luck, seeing you with me will make him explode and confess, and the two of you can ride into the sunset together yada yada yada.”

Luckily, your hidden corner was so dark the blush on your cheeks would not be visible to the eye, but in the deafening silence that followed, you could hear your heart beating faster. Finally, you broke it with a wavering laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Theo doesn't like me like that. He isn't- he wouldn't-” But Mattheo grinned wider the more you stuttered on and you glared at him. “If he likes me, why hasn't he asked me out yet?”

It was impossible. Too good to be true. Theo was stunning, he was smart and just overall great. When you first joined their friend group, he had warmed up to you the fastest, after Enzo of course, even though it was quite unusual of him to be open to strangers. But you had bonded over your shared academic interests, and once you had started recommending each other books and studying together, you were a done deal. But it was a purely platonic deal, at least from his perspective. Right?

“He will,” Mattheo interrupted your train of thought. “And he’ll give you the same spiel as me. He just needs a wake up call to realize he wants to fuck you!” Ignoring your piqued look, he gesticulated wildly. “Come on, are you just going to let him use you when you love him and he can't wrap his head around his feelings for you?”

“Like you are using me?” you reminded him but it couldn't deter Mattheo. “That's different. You don't have feelings for me, do you?”

You avoided his eye as you pondered his proposal. What if it didn't work? Well, at least you'd know and finally be able to let go of your stupid crush. There was, objectively, nothing wrong with going to the ball with Mattheo, you could just say you were helping out a friend.

Mattheo had said Theo had feelings for you- but what did he know? Why would someone as amazing as Theo be interested in you? Then again, there had been those moments, between bookshelves in the library, or in his common room, or out at the lake, shuffling closer to each other because of the cold. Moments when he had said or done something more befitting of a boyfriend rather than a friend. Rare smiles, interlaced fingers, sweet compliments, weirdly romantic Italian nicknames you had researched in a muggle library over the holidays. Was there a chance that Mattheo, who had the emotional intelligence of a tree trunk, was right about Theo’s feelings, or was he simply misinterpreting them?

“He really likes you,” Mattheo added quietly, as if he had read your thoughts. “He just needs a little push. Come on, angel, what could go wrong?”

Angel. That nickname. The first time Mattheo had called you that had been in the Slytherin common room. You had been lounging on the couch next to Theo, a book abandoned in your lap, and tried to cheer them up after a depressing quidditch practice. When Mattheo had called you an angel, Theo’s hand on your thigh had tightened and you had looked up just in time to see him throw a warning glare at Mattheo. Maybe there was something to his words.

But then again, you reminded yourself, Mattheo had an agenda with this, and when had someone else ever been more important for him than he himself? It was ridiculous to think that Theo liked you, but you were so hopeful. What if Mattheo’s stupid plan did work in your favor?

“F-fine,” you spluttered out before you could start to doubt yourself again. “I'll go with you. But it won't work because Theo doesn't like me like that. And you’re just taking advantage of my stupid schoolgirl crush. So, if it doesn't work, which it won't, you’re going to let me test my practice potions on you for a weekend. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mattheo grinned, shaking your outstretched hand. “But I fear you’ll have to find another guinea pig for your potions, because it will work.”

When Mattheo strode into the Slytherin common room fifteen minutes later, he walked in on Pansy beating Blaise at chess maliciously. The light of the flickering green fire made the shadows of their chess figures flicker over the walls in giant dimensions. Both of them looked up when he fell down on the couch with a triumphant grin and exchanged a glance. Usually, Mattheo's good mood could mean one of two things: someone was bleeding or someone was going to bleed.

“So…,” Blaise began when Mattheo made no indication of speaking. “What's got you in such a good mood?” Immediately after, he began to curse bitterly when Pansy took advantage of the distraction to get rid of his Queen.

“I’m not going to eat any flubberworms any time soon,” Mattheo said, satisfied. “y/n just agreed to go to the ball with me.”

The reaction was immediate. Pansy choked on a chocolate frog she had been eating and Blaise was too shocked to pat her back when she began to cough. In the armchair a few feet away, Enzo shot up and stared at Mattheo as if he had just announced he’d take a Hungarian Horntail to the ball. Then, he folded up his edition of the daily prophet he had been reading and sighed. “Mate, Theo’s going to kill you. Like, properly murder you.”

“That's what I'm counting on!” Mattheo retorted enthusiastically, undeterred by the skeptical looks on his friend’s faces. “Hold up, it's actually genius. I go out with y/n, Theo’s jealousy overloads, he explodes, finally confesses to her and stops yapping to us about how great she is.” He had framed his words with dramatic gestures, but they didn't have the planned effect.

“Mattheo, you absolute idiot,” said Pansy, so outraged at this display of foolishness that she didn't catch Blaise sneaking some of his chess pieces back onto the board. “You think jealousy is going to work? Have you met Theo? He’ll just brood in the corner forever.”

“She's got a point,” said Enzo, rolling up his newspaper and staggering over to his friends. “Also, Theo’s not going to confess if he thinks she’s into you!”

“You all underestimate his selfishness,” said Mattheo, still wholly convinced of this plan. The others exchanged looks. “Of course he’ll be broody and torn, but in the end, he’ll choose himself, as much as he loves her. And then he'll finally man up and tell her how he feels, she’ll confess right back and they ride out into the sunset together. Come on, it's guaranteed to work!”

A long silence followed, in which Mattheo smiled to himself giddily and the others contemplated the plan. Then- “this is why no one trusts you with anything emotional, Mattheo,” said Blaise, shaking his head. “Why not just talk to Theo instead of creating this drama? Oh, right, because you’re Mattheo.”

“We’ve tried, haven't we?” Mattheo asked in an exasperated voice. “We’ve told both of them again and again to finally get off their ass and make a move and they never listen, because they are oblivious angsty idiots.” He did have a point. Since the start of term, it had been obvious to the whole friend group how head over heels in love the two of you were for each other. Their attempts to get you together had failed miserably, however. Though the two of you were probably the smartest in your friend group, in this matter, you were wholly oblivious.

Enzo was the first to speak. “I swear, if you ruin this for Theo and y/n, I’m taking you down myself.”

“You can try, Berkshire,” grinned Mattheo, reaching for his wand, but Enzo only rolled his eyes and retreated back to his armchair, unfolding the daily prophet and continuing to read where he had left off.

“Wait,” said Pansy, narrowing her eyes at him. “y/n actually said yes to this? She's either braver than I thought or just as mad as you are.” She groaned exasperatedly and rubbed her temple, giving Blaise the opportunity to wipe a few of her chess pieces off the board without her noticing. “I give it two days before Theo starts plotting your untimely demise. Maybe less.”

“Well, that's the spirit, isn't it?” Said Mattheo, brimming with excitement. “Haven't had an equal fight in months.”

“Oh, that's what this is about,” murmured Pansy under her breath and gave Blaise a sharp look at if to say 'I've done all I can, it's your turn now’. Blaise, who wasn't one to let down his girlfriend, frowned thoughtfully. “Mark my words, this isn’t going to end well- for you, at least. I’ll enjoy watching, though.”

“Watching what?”

All four of them shot around at the sound of a drawled out voice coming from the entrance. It was Draco, covered in mud and shouldering a broom, and in his wake Theo, looking no less in need of a bath. “Why weren't you at practice, mate?” Draco asked Mattheo, who surely didn't regret ditching practice now that he'd gotten a clean shirt and a date out of it.

“I had to make a trip to Gryffindor tower,” he answered honestly, eyes roaming over their dirty forms. “Equally as unpleasant, I figure. Though it did ultimately work in my favor. Because I have a date for the ball now.” His observant eyes rested on Theo, who’s tired ones briefly flickered over and narrowed at him in suspicion.

“You’re taking a lion to the ball?” asked Draco skeptically, he seemed unable to imagine Mattheo having the audacity to ask you out, since, as everyone knew, you were Theo’s girl. “You must be really desperate. Who's the unlucky girl?”

“y/n,” grinned Mattheo simply, but the words had their intended effect nonetheless. A loud clatter silenced the common room when Draco’s broom landed on the floor, having slipped right out of his hands. His face was almost as white as his platinum hair as he gaped at Mattheo and then glanced back at Theo who had frozen mid-motion. Now, he straightened up once more to look at Mattheo. Theo, other than Mattheo, understood it to hide his reactions behind a mask of indifference, but his blue eyes were as hard and cold as ice.

“She said yes?”

“Yeah,” grinned Mattheo, failing to read the room, or he simply said the following out of madness. “She seemed pretty stoked!”

“Did she?” asked Theo tight-lipped and Mattheo only grinned in response. Teasing Theo, prodding him, holding you over his head, waiting for him to snap, for his oh-so-great composure to crack was the definition of fun. Mattheo could almost see it flicker in his eyes, the desire to punch him, to punish him, for taking what was his. And then, Theo’s annoying righteousness when it came to you, how he would remind himself that you didn't belong to him, that you could do whatever you pleased.

Mattheo could imagine both sides battling viciously in Theo’s head as he returned his gaze, it was delicious to have him squirm. He only had to watch his step, not play with the fire too much. Theodore Nott was one of the few people he knew that could actually beat his ass if they got poked too much. But he didn't take his eyes off Theo's who seemed just as determined to hold his. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his hands tighten around his broom before they relaxed, he spread his fingers like spiders and disciplined his own body into submission.

“So,” said Theo cooly, a certain bitterness tinging his tone that he kept to a minimum. Of course Theo knew Mattheo was trying to provoke him, and he was determined not to give him the satisfaction, or that was what Mattheo himself concluded. “When exactly did you decide you were into her? Before or after you knew I-” Theo paused and clenched his jaw “Never mind.”

“Does that bother you?” Mattheo asked in faux consideration and he could feel his friends holding their breath. Theo's infamous death stare fell upon him and the grin fell off his face, though the daring look in his eyes did not subside.

When Theo answered, his voice was smooth and controlled. “Doesn’t bother me. I just… didn’t think she’d be your type.”

“Why not?” asked Mattheo, his body ready for attack, every nerve tense in excited anticipation of a good fight. “She’s sweet, pretty, smart-”

“She's too good for you,” Theo cut him off with narrowed eyes, but Mattheo only shrugged. “It's the damn Yule ball, mate, I just need a date so I don't have to eat three courses worth of flubberworms, and I could imagine way worse than spending the evening with her. I mean,” a light smirk curled his lips, “she's not your girlfriend, is she?”

Oh, he could just feel Theo’s fury in his fingertips, the way he looked at him as if he wanted to take his head off. How he had to regret not asking you sooner, how confused over his anger he had to feel. Mattheo reveled in the power he had over him. But Theo smoothed out his features and stared at him through a mask of indifference. “Right.” Looking somehow a lot moodier than when he had stepped in, already brooding, he shouldered his broom and left for the boy’s showers.

His absence left behind a tense silence. Blaise was the first to speak. “Mattheo, mate… you're dead.” But Mattheo only laughed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, unbothered by his pessimistic outlook and still wholly convinced of his plan.

You wondered if Theo had caught wind of the Yule ball arrangement when you caught sight of him the next day in the Great Hall, looking more somber than ever. Even from the Gryffindor table, you could see him staring gloomily down on his porridge as if it had wronged him somehow. You were equally as unable to eat. Gnawing on your lip, you weighed the explanations in your head. Could he be jealous? No, that was too good to be true. It couldn't be.

Maybe he too had made a bet with Draco and had to eat flubberworms if he didn't find a date? Maybe there was some other explanation as to why Theo seemed to be answering all questions directed at him with either a frown or a shrug. Hunched over, his dark locks fell into his eyes as he glowered at his meal, fingers flexing around his fork. It was true, Theo was a grim person, and on bad days, he tended to glower at everyone who crossed his path- could this be just another one of his mood-swings?

“Everything alright?”

Taken aback, you looked at Hermoine who surveyed you with a cautious look in her brown eyes. “You haven't eaten.”

“I'm just not hungry,” you smiled truthfully and discarded the fork. No use pretending, you weren't getting any breakfast down today. Not when Theo looked so distractingly sinister and gorgeous.

But Hermoine didn't look convinced. “What did Riddle want yesterday? When he wanted to talk to you, what did he say?”

Your attention had been captured by Theo giving Mattheo his nastiest death glare, so you only registered the words slowly. “Huh? Oh, he only asked me to be his date for the Yule ball.” you replied, making Hermoine choke on her cereal. “He did what?”

Biting into the sour apple, you decided to come clean. “I said yes.” To escape her unbelieving and quite frankly accusing eyes, you rose from your seat. “See you in Arithmancy, Hermoine,” you said hastily and walked along the Gryffindor table in long strides. When you reached the doorway, however, you turned left and walked along the Slytherin table towards your friends.

Pansy noticed you approaching and waved, making the others look up as well. Mattheo grinned at you and blew you a kiss you rolled your eyes at. When Theo’s eyes fell upon you, however, they softened visibly. He scooted to the side, making space for you to sit down next to him. You smiled at him, albeit intimidated slightly by his bad mood, and moved closer to him. To your immense relief, he returned your smile and grabbed an empty glass to fill it with pumpkin juice and place it before you.

“Decided on a dress yet?” Pansy asked from the other side of the table and you looked at her, therefore missing the slight narrowing of Theo’s eyes at the mention of the ball. You did, however, notice his hand, reaching for yours over the table and interlocking your fingers with his. The Nott family ring on his ring finger burned cold against your skin, the calloused tips of his fingers from all the smoking burns felt even more uneven against your soft skin. You didn't know why you noticed his hands so clearly at this moment. Maybe, you realized, because you had never actually held his hand.

“Uh- yes,” you said, a little flustered, and returned your attention to Pansy who gave you a knowing look. “And you?”

The two of you slipped into a conversation about the ball and your dresses that the other boys participated scarcely in. Blaise asked questions about Pansy’s dress that he had never actually seen before. From time to time, Draco threw in a comment about his dancing skills and Enzo laughed along to Pansy’s teasing. Mattheo made flirty comments towards you when you talked about your dress, glancing at Theo to gauge his reaction.

Only Theo didn't participate in the conversation, though his fingers stayed interlocked with yours. Every now and again, they seemed to tighten, especially when Mattheo directed one of his flirty comments at you. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. When everyone rose to go to class, he tugged you down again by your interwoven hands. His expression was serious. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Uh, sure,” you smiled, waving the others goodbye. Mattheo winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. You sat back down, but Theo didn't speak immediately. His eyes studied your face, roamed over your features, as if he was seeing you for the first time- really seeing you. Merlin, he was an idiot. He should have asked you before Mattheo would be able to. The thought that you had looked up at Mattheo this sweetly just a day prior, before he had gotten ahead of him and asked you, was gnawing at him.

“You're going to the ball with Mattheo?” he forced the words past his lips, but managed to make them sound casual, as if he was asking about the weather.

“Yes?” you said and immediately scolded yourself for making it sound like a question. Your tone made him lift his brow as his eyes searched yours for any hesitance. “You don't have to go out with him, if you don't want to,” he said.

You could hear your heart beat in your ears. Was he trying to tell you that you had other options? Like him? For one second, you could see yourself, in the dress you had already picked out, side by side with Theo. He had to be a wonderful dancer. But then, you remembered what Mattheo had said. It was a platonic offer, even if he had feelings for you. Which you doubted. The thought of going with him when it was a merely platonic deal for him but meant so much to you, it was almost unbearable.

“I want to,” you replied and your voice sounded steadier than you’d dared to hope. For a second, you thought you saw his expression drop, but you could never trust your eyes with him, his fleeting expressions and flashes of emotions were hard to keep up with, even for you, who could see through him better than most people, by his own admission.

Theo merely nodded and stood up. Before you could, he shouldered your book back as well. Like the gentleman he was, he fended off your protests and held out his arm for you to take, as if you were at a special occasion, when, in truth, it was just another Tuesday in the Great Hall. Both glad and disappointed that nothing had changed, you slipped your arm into his and you left the Hall on your way to the Arithmancy classroom.

The soft hum of chatter filled the entrance hall as students in glittering gowns and sharply tailored dress robes gathered beneath the glowing light of the enchanted candles. The winged doors to the Great Hall were still shut as students who had partners in another house pushed through the crowd in search of them. You, however, didn't have much of a hard time finding your group of Slytherin friends, as any sane student steered clear of them. Before they could make you out in the wave of Gryffindor students that swept over the hall just now, you spotted them in a more secluded corner.

Of course, you noticed Theo first. He looked impossibly handsome in his dress robes. They were black, but with subtle hints of dark green. A dark green that matched the color of your dress. As if you were just meant for each other. Well, in your dreams. You noticed he didn't have a girl on his arm, neither did Enzo. Pansy and Daphne both looked gorgeous in their dresses, and especially Blaise looked hopelessly smitten. Then, there was Mattheo. You were somewhat surprised to see that he was actually wearing something formal. It was already a rarity for him not to be bloody, but to wear something festive was not a sight you ever expected to be subjected to.

Mattheo was the first to spot your approaching frame, a slow grin spreading across his face as he leaned casually against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze seeped over you with an aporoving nod. “Well, aren't you dressed up nicely,” he drawled when you were in earshot, causing the others to take notice of your presence as well. Pansy, ever supportive, let out a low whistle, Blaise wiggled his eyebrows and Enzo gave you a thumbs up. But it was Theo’s reaction that you felt most acutely- a subtle shift in his posture, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he looked you over. His gaze felt hot on your body and you felt your breath hitch when his stormy eyes locked with yours, a flicker of something unspoken flashing across his face before he quickly glanced away.

Fuck. You were gorgeous. Of course, he'd always known you were pretty, but seeing you in that dress did something to him. That green was the color of his house, of his family, the color of him. You looked like his, even though Mattheo put an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. He could have killed him, he might have, if you hadn't let out a bright laugh at something he had said that stilled every and all remains of fury in him. Your laugh was disarming, especially when you looked over at him and gifted him one of your sweet smiles. “Hey, Theo.”

He could only nod, unable to take his eyes off you, even when the doors to the great hall opened and the group slowly made their way towards them. His gaze zeroed in on Mattheo's hand on your lower back. That was not Mattheo's spot, that was where his hand lay when he was walking you to class or Hogsmeade. Unable to look anywhere else, he followed the others mechanically, unaware of the glimpses you stole at him to gauge his reaction. But all you could see was indifference.

When you stepped through the doors you were momentarily distracted from Theo. The Great Hall was alight with blue light, decked in ice crystals. The usual four house tables had made way for a multitude of smaller, round tables surrounding the dance floor that took up the better part of the hall. Mattheo led the way to one table in close proximity to the dance floor, which surprised Theo. Usually, Mattheo preferred corners over the center.

Mattheo pulled out your chair for you before Theo had the chance to and - wether by chance or because he was a snarky asshole - sat down in between Theo and you. With a sly grin at Theo, he interlocked your fingers over the table and moved closer to you. In that moment, Theo swore to himself that he would dance with you today. He'd stay up until three in the morning if necessary, but he would hold you in his arms tonight, twirl you around in that damn dress and see the light of the crystals reflected in your eyes. And if he had to hex Mattheo, he would gladly do so.

Your laughter rang in his ears and he cursed himself. Hex Mattheo, and ruin your night? What right did he even have to feel like this? As much as he hated to admit it, Mattheo was right. You weren't his girlfriend, he had no claim over you. His possessiveness was sick, twisted and entirely selfish. You were his friend and he should only want the best for you. What he had masked as ‘the best for you’ was no more than what fulfilled his desires. He was being a horrible friend to you.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Theo couldn't even find it in himself to feel anything but bitterness when Mattheo rose and offered you his outstretched hand. Over his death stare directed at the table, he missed the way you glanced over at him before taking it and allowing Mattheo to eagerly drag you to the dance floor. The music was fairly quick and as Mattheo twirled you around, you let him pull you into him and mirrored his steps. Mattheo was a fairly skilled dancer, but you struggled to keep up with his extravagant style and quick steps.

Mattheo twirled you around so fast you could barely see beyond the flashes of blue that remained of the room. And even when a more slow piece came on, he found a way to keep you on your toes. “He's looking over,” you whispered after daring a glance over your shoulder to see that Theo's brooding gaze was fixed on the two of you.

“You even have eyes in your head?” grinned Mattheo, pulling you closer by your waist. “He's been looking at you the whole evening.” A smirk curled his lip. “Told ya”

You were a little too out of breath to answer, but when Mattheo leaned close to whisper a question in your ear, you nodded, albeit a little hesitant. Your rowdy dancing partner pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you two. When he said something, anything, you giggled and he laughed along, even though neither of you remembered what he had said. In spite of the dancing, Mattheo managed to dip his head down and trail pecks up your neck to the shell of your ear. The shudder that went through your body was not as much a result of his lips, but a reaction to the way Theo’s fists clenched as you locked eyes.

Worry and stupid excitement coiled in your stomach. The way he was glaring at you through his dark locks, his fists clenching and unclenching, his cerulean eyes so dark, his posture so tense as if he was a predator ready to devour his prey, was so damn attractive that you couldn't help but stare longer than you intended to, before you managed to avert your eyes and focus them back on Mattheo. But you couldn't help but worry what his tense appearance might mean. Had he seen through Mattheo's plan to make him jealous and considered this a betrayal of your friendship?

Meanwhile, Theo had to summon up his last reserves of restraint when his best mate’s hand crept down your back, further than he was supposed to, teetering the edge of inappropriateness. But you looked so happy, laughing along to Mattheo's jokes. Though somehow, he had missed the repeated glances you cast at him all throughout the dance.

When the next number came on, you parted from Mattheo who lifted his brows. “That's enough. If he hasn't done anything by now, I must be right. You were wrong about these supposed feelings, Mattheo.” You sighed and shook your head about your own stupidity. Of course Theo hadn't reacted, you’d been right all along. Still, disappointment stung in your heart. Maybe you had held on to hope. Oh, who were you kidding, a part of you had believed Mattheo, and now you felt way worse than you had before. Before Mattheo could talk, you parted from him and left the dance floor.

Theo slowly, dangerously, lifted his head from his knuckles as his gaze followed your figure, ducking in between dancing couples to make your way back over. Your expression showed disappointment, sadness… you’d always been easy to read for him. When he asked you about it, you said you showed your emotions openly on purpose. Why, he had asked, and you'd laughed and said that you wanted to make people feel at ease and safe when talking to you, so you showed yourself to them to invite them in, make them feel welcome.

Even though he didn't fully understand, he admired you for it, recognized it as a strength when Mattheo had outright laughed at your explanation, earning him a sinister glare. But right now, Theo desperately wished he wouldn't be faced with your sorrow, it would make it easier to keep himself from walking over to Mattheo, drag him out into the hall and finally confront him. A horrible suspicion dawned on him as he locked eyes with Mattheo, who had been watching your retreating figure as well. When they locked eyes, he grinned, winked and disappeared into the crowd of dancing bodies. Had he been using you to make Theo jealous, to tease him for his personal satisfaction?

His sinister thoughts were quelled when you reached the table and sat down next to him, bending over with a groan and slipping out of your heels. But before you could even grab a slice of cake to drown your sorrows in sweets, someone got a hold of your hand. You followed the arm and saw Theo, looking at you with a serious expression. His grip was soft, as if you were fragile, made out of glass, made to look pretty and shatter. But his eyes were hard as stone. “What did he say to you?”

“Huh?” you asked, genuinely perplexed at the growl in his voice. “Who- what- You mean Mattheo?” A curt nod. You understood. Theo must've misinterpreted your bad mood upon leaving the dance floor for hurt at something Mattheo had said. “Nothing,” you said quickly. “Everything's alright.” But your reassurances couldn't wipe the skepticism from his eyes. “Look, it's just my feet that started to hurt, alright? It's not Mattheo's fault.”

Though he still looked doubtful, Theo seemed to accept your explanation and reached over to cut you a large piece of cake. In spite of your expensive dress, you brought your knees to your chest as you started eating, but your sudden appetite quickly subsided. With a long sigh, you leaned your head on Theo’s shoulder and reveled in his warmth. “‘M sorry,” you murmured under your breath, unsure if he would even catch it.

He did, and frowned, you could hear it in his voice though you didn't see his face. “What for, amore?” Amorina. It meant ‘little love’, or that was what the muggle dictionary books said. Those damn Italian nicknames. His accent, barely noticeable in everyday conversation, was thicker when he spoke hushed and you allowed yourself to revel in how it made you feel, just for a moment. Then, you shrugged, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for now. Would you ever be able to tell him why you had gone to the ball with Mattheo or would you sooner die of embarrassment?

This wasn't so bad. Actually, it was quite nice. You rocked slightly in the rhythm of the music and leaned into Theo who, in turn, leaned onto you carefully. Somehow, your hands had found each other. Draco was dancing with Daphne, Blaise and Pansy were making out in a distant corner of the room and Enzo was at the buffet to get seconds. It was quite peaceful, almost like you two were the only thing that mattered and all around you was just noise and light and colors. They would fade, he wouldn't, and you wouldn't either.

Your peace was only disturbed when Mattheo arrived, who, to your not-really surprise, had a giggling girl holding onto his arm. Unbeknownst to you, Mattheo had not given up just yet. If Theo's selfishness wasn't stronger than his desire to see you happy, maybe his knight-in-shining-armor urges would be. He grabbed your plate from in front of you, ignoring Theo's frowns, dug the fork into it and held it out to the giggling girl that was clutching his dress robes.

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” he asked and she nodded, giving him a sultry look. He cast you a deliberately indifferent look. “You don't mind, angel, do you?” Though he didn't dare look at Theo and give himself away, he could practically feel him fuming.

“Knock yourselves out,” you replied with a wave of your hand but Theo was not so quick to dismiss the scene. He rose from his seat, feeling as if all his frustration and resentment of the last week had reached its peak and was ready to boil over. In moments like these, when he allowed his anger to escape, to be felt just for a moment before funneling it towards the intended target with deliberate precision, he could feel himself getting calmer. The rushing in his ears subsided, his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as he looked down on his best mate.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Taking a gorgeous girl to dance with me,” Mattheo answered casually, grinning at the girl on his arm. How could he act as if you weren't even there? How dare he run to another when he had taken you to be his date, was he never satisfied?

“You already have a date, scemo,” he growled. By now, a few pairs of eyes had gotten wind of the brewing storm. A few of them stepped closer to observe the scene, others pushed through the crowd to put some space between them and the two boys who now glared at each other. Mattheo was tense, brimming with excitement and pushed away the girl. Theo, on the other hand, seemed almost unnaturally calm, his hand slowly slipping into his robes in search of his wand.

“Theo,” you said quietly, in an ineffectual attempt to avoid more attention. “I really don't mind.” He cast you a quick glance and you knew it hadn't been enough. His eyes were soft all of the sudden, but you knew he wouldn't back down. And you weren't going to lie, it did warm your chest that he was so willing to stand up for you. Though you didn't want the situation to escalate into an actual fight because of your’s and Mattheo’s stupidity.

Mattheo would apologize to you for the following later, but now he had to wound Theo up so much that he’d attack him with bare hands, Mattheo's preferred method of fighting, because he knew he couldn't beat the academic weapon Theo in a wizarding duel. “Yeah, she was kind of a bore so I-” But he didn't get to finish that sentence, because Theo had abandoned the search for his wand, surged forward and tackled Mattheo so they fell to the ground in a heap of robes and fists.

You had rarely seen Theo fight. Well, that was not quite true. You'd seen him hex people, curse fellow students, but never like this. The punches he delivered to Mattheo’s face were less deliberate and full of rage. It was a show of force unlike any you'd ever seen from him. When tackling Matteo, he had discarded his robes and now his white shirt got the first red spots. Mattheo hit and kicked back with the same fervor you already knew from him, and you could see it in his eyes, this was all just a game for him.

Students screamed when a resounding crack echoed through the hall, amplified by the sudden silence that had come over the crowd as everyone formed a circle around the fighting boys. Theo had broken Mattheo's nose, you were sure of it, and for a moment, you thought Mattheo was down, but of course not. Without a sound of pain, he shot up and tackled Theo, who had hesitated for a split second too long, to the ground. Wherever they threatened to crash into the wall of onlookers, the students moved back like a coordinated swarm of fish.

Slowly, Theo seemed to get the upper hand on Mattheo who seemed slightly knocked out from the hit in the face that had broken his nose. But nonetheless, while Theo’s expression was bitter and hard as he brought his fist down on Mattheo's face again and again, the latter laughed, almost crazily, coughing up blood. His laughter was the loudest sound, and for a good minute, you doubted his sanity. In contrast, Theo was eerily silent as he beat Mattheo with the utmost concentration, jaw clenched and eyes full of disdain.

Finally, the headmaster managed to push through the crowd. Some of them were chanting, others were covering their faces with their hands. Dumbledore assessed the situation in one glance, and you thought he even winked at you, before he pulled out his wand. As if pulled apart by invisible hands, Mattheo and Theo were ripped apart and both stumbled a few feet back, making the crowd on either side burst to scramble away.

They were both heaving. Mattheo looked worse than Theo, his nose was visibly broken and his face was littered with cuts and bruises and two black eyes. Theo’s lip and nose were bleeding, dripping crimson upon his stained shirt, as were his fists, and a darkening bruise bloomed above his right jawline. Both of them looked ready to jump back into it, if it hadn't been for a very disgruntled Snape, who stepped in between and sneered at Theo especially. “What a display! You have dishonored your house with your public brawling-”

“Now, now, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly and smiled in understanding. “Tempers run high at events like these. I can remember, in my youth, there was no ball without a good duel. Of course, some choose the more direct approach.” His eyes twinkled.

Unfortunately, Mattheo chose the exact moment to send you a wink and Theo, who looked just about a hundred percent done with his bullshit, took a step towards him, only to be roughly pushed back by Snape. It couldn't stop the words leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, though. “Sei praticamente mio fratello,” growled Theo with a wild look in his blue eyes. “come hai potuto farmi questo, pezzo di merda?"

Mattheo was still gasping for breath and wincing at every inhale, but he grinned nonetheless. “non parlo italiano, you dumbass,” he sneered with what you could only assume was a heavy British accent, and Theo, still fuming, spit on the ground over Snapes shoulder who was still holding him back.

“Now, now,” said Dumbledore with a level of indulgence you could only admire him for. “I believe, Mr Riddle, you should see Miss Pomphrey. As for you, Mr Nott, how about a walk to, ah- cool off?”

Theo pushed Snape off of him who glared at him, only to be glared at right back. “Twenty points off Slytherin, Nott,” he said with clear disdain in his voice. Before Theo could protest or do something rash (you had never seen him like this, he looked like he was capable of anything), you grabbed his hand and started pulling. To your immense surprise and relief, Theo gave in immediately, following you as you pushed through the students, out of the door, through the entrance hall, and finally, out into the dark grounds where the chilly night air finally cleared your head a little.

You sat down on the stone steps and Theo followed suit, still breathing heavily and flexing his hands. For a few minutes, you didn't dare speak. When you finally managed to work up the words and the courage, it was Theo who spoke first. His voice had lost all temper, all edge, it was full of regret. “I'm sorry, amore.” Taken aback, he turned your head to look at him. His gaze was fixed on his hands, covered in both Mattheo's and his blood, seeping out of his knuckles.

“What for?” you asked and he finally looked at you, albeit as if you were asking a very ridiculous question. “Cazzo, for ruining your night. You deserve better, I was a-” But you didn't let him finish, you reached over to wrap your arms around him and pull him in, needing his warmth more than ever. Immediately, his arms engulfed your form and he pulled you into him so that you were sitting halfway in his lap, but neither of you cared. Maybe even without realizing, he rocked you back and forth lightly and you breathed out, breathed in, let the smell of him consume you whole. Cigarettes had never smelled better.

When Theo reluctantly released you, his gaze trailed over the goosebumps on your arms. Your dress, as wonderful as it was, did not have sleeves. “Let's go,” he said softly. He didn't say where, but you didn't care, you trusted him. So you let him pull you up and back inside, down the staircase to the dungeons. None of you said a word. When you stepped inside, the Slytherin common room was deserted, as everyone was still upstairs, enjoying themselves.

Theo urged you towards the couch, but you had come to a halt. You knew you needed to come clean. Now. Before he had the chance to actually take Mattheo's head off. Mistaking your hesitation for doubt rather than guilt, Theo let his arms engulf you once more. It may have been a trick of your imagination, but you thought you heard him breathe in the scent of your hair. “Maleditelo, that bastard. Merlin, I could have broken his fucking jar if they'd given me one more minute. Curse him for doing that to you. I’d never have-” He fell silent.

You sighed against his chest, silently wishing you'd never taken part in Mattheo's crazy plan. “I didn't mind that,” you murmured into his blood-stained shirt, reveling in the feeling of his thumbs brushing over your shoulder as he held you. But it stopped, and Theo pulled away, face contorted into a bitter smile as he began to pace in front of you. “No, of course you didn't. Sei troppo dannatamente bonario, troppo gentile, troppo perfetto.”

“Theo!” you said loudly and that made him look down on you. Your voice was shaking slightly. “I’m sorry.” He frowned, and then it all spilled out of you. How Mattheo had proposed the idea of making him jealous because he was convinced he liked you, how you had said yes because you were a lovesick idiot, how he had been purposefully riling him up and you had went along with it all. “I'm sorry,” you said shakily, holding back tears. “I was so stupid, this is all my fault, I'm so, so sorry Theo.”

During the whole tale, Theo hadn't moved an inch. Now, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from out of his pocket, ignited one with a bit of wandless magic and took a long drag. Usually, Theo didn't smoke when you were around, because he knew you didn't like it. But desperate times seemed to call for desperate measures. Staring down at the glowing cigarette between his fingers, Theo seemed to gauge the words, weigh them on his tongue, before he spoke. “You like me?”

“I love you,” you confessed, hiding your face in your hands. “God, Theo, I'm so sorry.”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?” You peeked at him through your fingers, but he seemed calm. Sure, he was frowning, but the cigarette seemed to have helped. His gaze was fixed on you as he studied your expression, what little he could catch a glimpse of, anyway.

You let out a helpless sigh, feeling ridiculous. “Because… you know, you’re you.”

At that, his frown deepened and he took another drag of his cigarette, as if to calm himself. Then, he flicked it into an ashtray and approached you slowly. His gentle hands came up to pry your hands from your face. They fell helplessly at your sides. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with furrowed brows. “Are you intimidated by me, amorina?”

“N- no!” you stuttered desperately, “it's just…” You let out a long sigh, not daring to look at him. “I was scared it might ruin our friendship, it just… seemed like the best way.” As you spoke them, you realized the stupidity of your words, and Theo, too, raised his brow at you. “You thought going to the ball with Mattheo to make me jealous, letting him kiss you on the dance floor and rile me up all evening was the best way, did you?”

“Yes?” you squeaked, never having felt this abashed in your life.

Theo rolled his eyes, but he leaned down and suddenly he was so close. So close you could feel, hear and smell his breath, still reeking of cigarettes. So close you suddenly realized just how blue his eyes were, a deep cerulean blue. So close your breath hitched. Theo's voice was but a whisper, but he seemed distracted, his eyes darting between your eyes and - could it be? - down to your lips. “Stupid plan.”

“I know,” you breathed, looking at him with wide, teary eyes that Theo wanted to burn into his memory forever. He couldn't find it in him to be mad at you. Not when you looked at him like this, not when he could smell you.

“It worked,” was all he said, and you could barely comprehend the words before his lips crashed onto yours.

You'd imagined many times how it might feel to kiss Theo, too feel those soft lips on yours. Would it be messy? Gentle? Rough? It turned out to be none of those, or perhaps all of those. Kissing Theo was dizzyingly overwhelming. His lips moved in yours in a controlled passion, slow and meticulous, but at the same time, hungry. So, so hungry when he let out a groan and parted your lips with his to slip his tongue into your mouth. To explore, to discover, to make you whimper against him as he pulled you in tighter by the waist.

You suddenly felt impossibly hot and bothered, especially when Theo's lips departed from your mouth to nip at your jaw and travel down the crook of your neck, biting, sucking, caressing, worshipping. When you felt something solid poke against your thigh, you gasped, nervousness coiling in your stomach. “M-maybe,” you stuttered, “now that all is cleared up, we should maybe go look after Mattheo in the-”

You gasped loudly when Theo bit down hard on your neck, silencing you effectively with the growl that escaped his throat. “Don't say his fucking name, amore.” You nodded frantically, biting back moans, and Theo started lapping at the bite, rubbing his tongue over it in soothing circles as his hands travelled down, further down before they reached the slit in your dress and he grabbed a handful of your thigh. “You can scream mine instead.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and you jumped, Theo took a step back from you to glare at your intruders. It was Pansy, and, following right behind, Blaise. She had her brows lifted and grinned. “Holy hell, get a r-”

“Get out, Pansy,” Theo cut her off, fingers digging into your thigh. Though she held Blaise back from standing up for her, she rolled her eyes at his tone and turned to leave. “Lock the door,” Theo called after them and you somehow found yourself giggling. “Theo, you can't just shut your whole house out of the common room.” You felt light headed, slightly dizzy, but you smiled and he managed to return it. “'Course I can.”

He let go of your thigh and walked a few steps, over to what had to be an enchanted record player. With a tip of his wand, it started playing a slow song. Theo looked back at you, extending his arm, offering you his right hand. A small smile played around his lips as he crooked his head to the side. “Dance with me, amorina.” And of course, you took it, let him pull you towards him and closed your eyes as he began to move you to the slow rhythm. Somehow, your head landed on his shoulder, his came to encircle your waist as you moved, barely taking a step.

He would make the stolen night up to you. Every single second.

[misayani]

Okay, this is a bit of an odd request, but could you write a threesome between No-el, Se-Mi, and the Fem!reader? Like both No-el and Se-Mi are ganging up on the reader to fuck hard enough for her to see stars.

I don't really have a plot in mind. Maybe another contestant was flirting with the reader and they both get jealous so they corner her in the bathrooms? And the reader is more than willing to fuck them too.

Thank you so much!

NOBODY KNOWS — NO-EUL (GUARD 011) & SE-MI (PLAYER 380) 

◜ pairing ... no-eul / guard 011 & se-mi / player 380 x  fem reader

◜you knew you were fucked, as you managed to get two women jealous over you.

𔗨 author's note — came ten times writing this so i apologize if i took so long /j. lets just pretend mi-na's still alive and happy in this fic <33 (i needed this no-eul fic as much as you guys do because theres little to no fics about her and im so sad and I JUST NEED HER.) [lowercase intended]

♡ upcoming fic — se-mi + comfort 

warning: smut [threesome, fingering, oral] 

"ugh, get off meeee!" mi-na tries to wiggle you off as you cling tighter onto her arm. right now was your second game, and they had asked everyone to team up into five— your team included you and mi-na, thanos, nam-su, and se-mi who had been acting distant ever since you guys sat down waiting for your team's turn.

you were sat in between mi-na and se-mi, the latter who had been sneaking glances to the both of you without you noticing. 

"i'm scared, what if i mess up?" you unconfidently mutter to your bestfriend, who looked at you with an expression that read 'are you kidding me?'

"babe, i've seen you play gonggi ever since we were kids. and there was not a single time where you missed catching. you won't mess it up." mi-na said, grabbing your hand to reassure you.

"you've known each other since kids?" se-mi spoke up beside you, making you both turn your heads to her. your lips form into a polite smile, she finally spoke. 

"yes, we were neighbours but she actually used to bully me—" mi-na cuts you off as she rolls her eyes, "yah! don't just go and tell some nobody shit about us." she nudges you as se-mi scoffs.

"the fuck you mean nobody? if it weren't for me, she wouldn't have made it past first game." your smile drops as se-mi speaks, well it was true— if it weren't for her catching you during 'green light red light', you would've been dead by now.

"you bitch—!" mi-na started but you immediately jumped in, "it's fine. not a big deal." you shoot your bestfriend a look to calm her down. please, not now.

mi-na flips her hair and crosses her arms against her chest, turning her attention to the purple-haired man beside her, who called himself thanos. he notices her and smiles, starting a conversation with her.

you turn to look at se-mi and give her an apologetic smile, "i'm sorry about her. she acts the same for everyone, if that makes you feel better." se-mi rolls her eyes, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek as she darts her eyes back to the contestants currently playing. 

you just pressed your lips together in a thin line at her lack of response before you turned your head back to also watch as you fiddled with your fingers anxiously.

                            ㅤ࿚࿚࿚࿚ㅤ࣭ㅤ𐙚ㅤ࣭ㅤ࿙࿙࿙࿙

 "can't it be our turn already? my ass is starting to hurt from sitting." you hear mi-na complain under her breath. you roll your eyes playfully as thanos smirks, "don't you worry babe, i'll massage it for you later." nam-su—you think that's his real name. thanos calls him nam-gyu, despite nam-su correcting him many times already until he got tired and just let it be— looks at the purple-haired guy weirdly, you couldn't blame him.

"get a fucking room"

finally, the current team playing made it to the finish line. all of you stood up, cheering the group that won. you turned to mi-na the same time she does and you both crash into a hug as if your own team had won. 

beside you, was se-mi staring at the both of you, jaw clenched and hands formed into fists. she sat back down as mi-na and you finally calm down, smiles still plastered onto your faces. the both of you sit back down and you tilt your head at mi-na, whose eyebrows are furrowed as her gaze was locked at something behind you. you follow her gaze, simply seeing a triangle masked guard. 

you look back to mi-na before you spoke, "what's wrong?" you see her blink as she snaps out of it, looking to you instead, "nothing. just felt like that guard behind us was staring."

you laugh, "you're overanalyzing everyone. what? gonna fight that guard too?" she rolls her eyes at you as she shakes her head, sighing. "whatever."

moments later, it was finally your team's turn. what mi-na said was right— you didn't mess up during playing gonggi. in fact, the each of you managed to play all the mini games smoothly and went back to the large room without any scratches.

                            ㅤ࿚࿚࿚࿚ㅤ࣭ㅤ𐙚ㅤ࣭ㅤ࿙࿙࿙࿙

it was finally bedtime, after doing the votings. you and mi-na had voted for go home, while the other three in your group voted for the opposite. you toss and turn in your bed, unable to sleep. many thoughts are racing inside your mind and you would literally kill just for them to give you a break.

suddenly, your mind wanders off, and a girl with the bold personality comes to mind. se-mi. just the thought of her makes you squirm. you had noticed the way she looked at you, the way she touched you everytime she had a chance to. 

heat rushed to your core. really? right now? you shift, removing the pillow supporting your head and placing it in between your legs instead. it's not enough, you thought. with a sigh, you hesitated before slipping yourself out of bed and drag your feet towards the door on the left side of the room.

you knock on the door softly, patiently waiting for the masked men to answer. seconds later, the hinged cover on the window swings open, revealing a triangle masked guard.

"restroom. please." you speak, before adding "my stomach really hurts." you see the guard pause for a while, before shutting the hinged cover and you sigh in defeat, preparing to walk back to bed. the door opens and you look up, the triangle masked guard standing on the side, making way for you.

"i need to go too." you flinch as you hear someone speak behind you. glancing to your back, your cheeks heat up as you see the girl you had just been fantasizing about earlier. se-mi glanced back, looking directly into your eyes. 

you snapped your head back, facing forward. with an awkward cough, you walk forward, se-mi following behind as the triangle masked guard guides you both towards the restroom.

the guard opens the door for the both of you as soon as you reach the restroom. se-mi walks past you, going inside first before you walked in next. 

the door shuts behind you just before you hear one of the bathroom stall's door slam shut. you just stand there for a moment, why was i here again? right. to get yourself off.

you felt disgust towards yourself as you made your way to the sink, turning on the faucet. you start to wash your hands as you think: but how the fuck am i supposed to do that when the woman you were thinking about is also inside this restroom and wouldn't that be so disgusting to think of someone like that an— your thoughts were cut off as you look back up to the mirror in front of you, startling as you see se-mi just meters away behind you. 

you turned the faucet off before you turned around, facing her. "you scared me." you said quietly, your chest rising up and down. she snickers before she spoke up, "scared you, huh? don't tell me you don't like me being in the same room as you, alone."

she clicks her tongue, "you think i haven't been noticing your little stares?" oh so she felt it too, the thing between us. "you're probably having dirty thoughts right now for all i know." her lips form into a smug smirk, making your knees feel like jelly.

your lips part and the restroom door suddenly swings open, making you both snap your heads to look. your eyes widen in fear as you see a triangle masked guard walk inside, locking the door behind. your head turns to look at se-mi, who didn't look as scared at all. what the fuck? you thought.

your heart started to hammer in your chest. you hear rustling as you look back to the guard. he— or she— started taking the mask off, revealing piercing eyes, before taking off the balaclava next. it revealed a woman. a rather hot woman, she had short black hair and a scar on her right cheek that was still reddish.

"s-semi..?" your voice came out shaky, as you reached for the girl beside you. you were so confused and scared, not knowing what this guard's deal was. she glanced at you, walking in front in a protective manner, before speaking to the woman you didn't know the intentions of. 

"why the hell are you here?" she bravely starts, "don't you guys have your own restrooms?" se-mi huffs at the woman. you admired se-mi for her courage to talk confidently but at the same time you're scared shitless for her. 

the woman sighs, "why the hell—? fuck—" she starts, before adding: "to join in on whatever the hell you two are doing."

"to join in on—? ah." se-mi pauses as if she read the woman's mind. "i see. you want her?" se-mi chucks her head sideways at you, as the woman glances at your confused state— eyebrows furrowed and eyes doe. you looked like a puppy, which made her want to ruin you even more. 

"wha-what?" you stuttered, fiddling with your fingers. "what do you mean? what do you mean you want me? how?" you hear se-mi chuckle as the woman in front of you crosses her arms. want me? want to kill me?? or like, sex? hopefully sex. different thoughts raced to your mind. 

"don't act dumb now sweetheart. you know exactly what i mean by it." se-mi cooes at you mockingly. 

"well.. what do you say? are you up for it..?" the woman speaks up again with her raspy voice. you bit your lip, as they both stare at you in anticipation. fuck it.

you shyly nodded as you look down at your fingers. "words." your head snaps up to look at the woman once again before saying, "fine— yes.. i'm down." 

after hearing your confirmation, the woman starts to unzip her red jumpsuit, making your legs weak. se-mi walks closer to you, "take your jacket off, baby." she softly says. you comply, before se-mi speaks up once again "shouldn't have been so close to your 'bestfriend' in front of me" 

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, dropping your jacket onto the floor. "oh. i guess we're both in here for the same reason, then." the woman speaks, your cheeks heat up as you saw her figure— she had the jumpsuit unzipped down to her waist, revealing a sports bra underneath.

se-mi snickers as she pushes your shoulder, making you fall down to your butt. "you saw that too?"

"was observing them from afar." oh.

"huh? bestfriend? you mean mi-na?" se-mi hums as she squats down to your level.

"but- but we're just friends?" you lock eyes with se-mi as the other woman walks just behind you.

"we're just friends," se-mi mocks you, "bullshit." 

the woman's also bent down to your level now and you can feel her hot breath against the back of your neck. "shirt, off." she whispers. 

you hesitantly grap the end of your shirt, you were shy to show them your body, it'll make you feel too exposed and pathetic.

the woman behind you clicks her tongue, before she takes your shirt off herself impatiently. "hesitant now? you weren't as hesitant earlier when you kept flirting with your friend." 

"won't be surprised at all if the both of you had sex before." semi continues, you were now left in your bra and tracksuit pants. "slut." 

your breath hitches as the woman behind you started kissing the side of your neck softly, while her gloved hands traveled to your covered breasts and started caressing them over the cloth. "no-eul. my name's no-eul." she whispers in between  leaving kisses on your neck.

you whimper, your hands going towards your pants to slide it down your legs. se-mi helps you and she throws it aside, exposing your soaked underwear. "you look so pretty like this. so wet for us." se-mi purrs as she presses the pads of her fingertips to your clothed cunt.

the woman— no-eul— unclasped your bra and you wiggle it off you as the cold air made your nipples hard. no-eul takes off her gloves and immediately brings them back to your boobs to grope them.

you let out a soft moan, head tipping back to kiss no-eul. she complies, taking your soft lips onto her chapped ones. the both of you make out as se-mi kept herself busy sliding down your underwear. you lifted your hips up slightly to make it easier for her, and once they were finally off, she spreads your legs as her breath hitches.

you pull away from the kiss and rest your head on no-euls shoulder while she continued to touch your chest. semi leans down and starts to leave kisses on your thighs, sometimes sucking them. 

your head shoots up to look at se-mi. "se-mi please" you plead, "please what?" she murmurs against your inner thigh. 

"please, eat me out. please."

"yeah? is that the same way you beg mi-na?" she taunts, "no, no— we don't fuck i swear! we're just friends." you cry out, your hips bucking up, desperate for any contact. 

you tilt your head back to no-eul's shoulder once again, pouting and whining, "no-eul.." the woman chuckled at you and shook her head, "you have to beg, baby." 

you look at se-mi as your lower lips tremble. you didn't even care at this point on, "please se-mi, i— i promise we're both just friends. really- i— i swear she's straight. just please, i need you." 

"give the poor girl what she wants, don't be so mean." you were grateful that no-eul spoke up, as it finally led to se-mi giving in. 

your back arches as your head falls down to no-eul's left shoulder. se-mi latched her lips onto your aching clit, swirling it with her tongue. soft gasps escape your mouth—that's very close to no-eul's ear— making her hear everything loud and clear.

"mnnnh— so good.." no-eul herself was getting wetter and wetter at your noises: soft moans and the lewd sound your wet cunt is making while se-mi hungrily makes out with it.

"fuck, baby.." you swear you just heard a low moan from no-eul, but maybe you're just tripping, considering your mind is spinning around right now out of pleasure. 

you reach for no-eul's hand, bringing it to your mouth before you started to suck on her ring and middle finger. "shit," no-eul mutters, her fingers softly thrusting in and out your mouth, "don't do this to me."

se-mi hums against your cunt, her tongue teasing your entrance before she pushes it in. many things are happening too fast right now, you could feel your orgasm growing. 

no-eul pulls her fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them. she leans down to kiss you, making your moans muffled. your hand travels towards se-mi's hair as you push her head deeper. you couldn't think of anything that's better than this: no-eul's tongue exploring your mouth while se-mi's explores your cunt. 

"i'm going— to cum—" you say in between kisses, loud enough for se-mi to hear. you should be thankful for se-mi being nice, because she speeds up, eager to make you cum and taste you. 

and then it happens. everything waist down tightens as you release, your orgasm ripping through you. a loud moan escapes your mouth and onto no-eul's who pulled away and watched your pleasured face. se-mi laps your juices up before you feel no-eul remove herself from behind you. 

se-mi stands up and no-eul whispers something to her, nodding before she pulls her pants and underwear down and tosses them somewhere else. you lick your lips at the sight before no-eul spoke up

"on your hands and knees." holy fucking shit— se-mi places herself down as you turn around, your legs slightly wobbling while you try to support yourself using your hands. your face was met with se-mi's dripping core before she speaks "well?" 

"i- i don't know how to... um," you shyly say, not feeling confident to make someone cum.

"it'll be fine, just trust your instincts." trusting her, you lean down to close the space between you and se-mi's cunt, giving her light kitten licks. "fuck— more." she forces out. you started making '8' patterns against her clit as she lets out a breathy moan. 

your eyes widen as you moan out loudly from no-eul slamming two of her fingers inside you without any warning. "fuck—! mngggh!" se-mi didn't let you adjust as she forcefully pushes your head down to her core, making your moans muffled against her, sending vibrations to her whole body. 

tears started to well up in your eyes as no-eul's fingers pound into you. no-eul grunts behind you as her fingers works wonders inside of you, hitting the right spots, "you're so fucking tight." 

se-mi lets out a scoff, "surprising, thought you were a whore." you moan against her core, if it was possible— you grew wetter at her words. 

you start to think that you're doing a good job because of how se-mi lets out small moans. you flutter your eyes open and traveled your eyes to look at her expression, you were surprised to see her already looking at you, eyes half-lidded with lips parted and sweat dripping down her forehead as you kept making out with her cunt. 

your arch your back as you felt no-eul curl her fingers inside you. you felt another orgasm building up, this time faster due to being the second one. 

"dirty girl, letting a guard fuck you senseless like this when you should be scared of me." you hear no-euls raspy voice— shit, her voice alone is turning you on so bad, making you feel butterflies inside your stomach. 

"think you can handle one more finger baby?" no-eul cooes, as you hum against se-mi, tasting something salty— did she just cum? holy fuck did i make her cum? 

se-mi tugs your hair up and shifts herself closer to you before crashing her lips onto yours. you could differentiate the way no-eul and se-mi kiss you: no-eul kissed you soft and slow while se-mi kissed you hungrily and rough. you moan into her mouth as no-eul pushes a third finger inside you, making you closer to releasing. 

"you're taking it so well, so good."  

you pull away from the kiss and se-mi immediately latches her lips on your neck, sucking on it. 

"i'm gonna cum- i'm gonna cum," you moan out as no-eul's fingers work faster. 

your eyes roll back as your second orgasm hits you, feeling an overwhelming bliss throughout your whole body. no-eul doesn't stop but she slows down her thrusts as she lets you ride your high. soon enough, you've calmed down and the woman behind you pulls her fingers out of you, making a squelching noise.

your knees shake before they gave out, if it weren't for se-mi catching you you would've fell to the floor face first. 

"clean her up. i need to go back outside." no-eul speaks up. you can hear the faucet running so you assumed she was washing her hands. you can feel se-mi nod against you, before you turned around to look at no-eul who was zipping up her jumpsuit and tidying herself up before walking towards the door. 

she's leaving already? the thought made you sulk.

se-mi leans you against the wall as she starts to dress herself up as well. no-eul pauses, her shoulders going up and down as if she let out a sigh before you see her turn around and walk back towards you.

you just stare straight forward dumbfoundedly, before feeling a cold hand tilt your chin up as no-eul leans down to give you once last kiss. 

"i trust you to not tell a soul about this." 

her voice was gentle but firm, and it made you not want to even think about telling anyone about this— it wasn't like you're planning to anyways. no-eul walks towards the door and pauses as she sees se-mi come back with a tissue roll on hand, she gives her a nod before unlocking the restroom door; she opened it slightly at first, checking for anyone outside, and walking outside when she confirmed it was clear.

se-mi picks your underwear and pants up from the floor and shakes it off, you stand up as she hands you the toilet paper and you use that to clean your slick off. she hands you your clothes after and you wear them, disposing the used tissue paper and then washing your hands after. 

you glanced at where you dropped your jacket, frowning when you didn't see it there. se-mi clears her throat behind you, you turn off the faucet and turn around before she hands you your jacket. 

you both stare each other awkwardly. you bit your lower lip as her lips form into a smirk, "have you learned your lesson?"

you nod slowly and then you see her raise her eyebrows at you. "next time you pull the same shit, i won't be so nice." she leans in to kiss you; you reciprocate. "but it's too bad we don't have too much time using the restroom." se-mi says in between kisses as she cups your jaw

"or maybe should i just fuck you out there for everyone to see, hm?"

she smiles against your lips, "even had a fucking guard swoon over you." she murmurs. you pull away from the kiss before clearing your throat, you aren't really sure what to say right now. "cmon." se-mi intertwines her fingers with yours as she leads you towards the restroom exit, opening it before stepping outside with you following.

no-eul— well, a masked guard, but you think it's her, was standing outside patiently, nodding and leading the way back to the large room after seeing the both of you.

your mind wanders off as you walk— oh my god. i just fucked two women and one of them's a fucking guard. a quiet sigh escapes your lips as you rethink your life choices;

what the hell am i doing with my life

                         ㅤ࿚࿚࿚࿚ㅤ࣭ㅤ𐙚ㅤ࣭ㅤ࿙࿙࿙࿙

"why are you walking so weirdly? hey— walk straight for the love of god!" mi-na exclaims as she catches you from falling down, the two of you were walking towards the line of players to get your breakfast.

"the fuck does that have to do with you not walking straight?" she scoffs, "it's like you got fucked so hard you can't walk." she murmurs as your eyes widen before you nudged her.

your cheeks heat up as you remembered the things that happened last night in the bathroom. you shake your head, "it's nothing. my head just hurts."

"mi-na!"

you didn't deny it though. if only she knew, if only.

@misayani

[shellshocklove]

hot 'n' heavy | joel miller

pairing/AU: mom's friend from work!joel miller x female!reader

summary: hiding away in your room during your mother's annual work party, your mom's friend from work, the handsome joel miller, finds you in a compromising position.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! swearing, age gap (reader is college age), use of pet names, pwp, smut, f!masturbation, dom!joel, daddy!joel, manhandling, oral (m receiving), degradation (slut), pussy spanking, unprotected sex (don't do it!), creampie, no use of y/n

a/n: this is just something short and smutty. i debated not posting this tbh since it felt a little simple and not as detailed + with no plot, but it's been so long since i've written anything at all so i'm gonna look at it as a win that it's something lol

main masterlist / ao3 / fic updates

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

"Fuck… Is this really what ya want, sweetheart?"

Joel's voice was barely a whisper, something deep and gravely as he let his thumb skate over your cheek. It was depraved how gone you were already: half-naked on your knees before a man you barely knew, your eyes half-lidded from his touch, and your panties soaked through with your arousal.

You shouldn't be doing this.

Joel worked with your mother. He wasn't technically her coworker – a fact you'd cling to tomorrow when the reality of your actions would settle in – he was a contractor the company she worked for used for most of their projects. That's why he was here tonight, in your childhood home, attending your mother's work party.

You hadn't planned on visiting this weekend, didn't really plan on it for the foreseeable future either, but the devil herself (your roommate) had basically kicked you out because her army boyfriend (ugh) was visiting. With no place to go, if you didn't want to spend this month's paycheck on a last minute hotel room for two nights, you'd ended up going home.

Technically, and you'll forever be hung up on the technicalities of this situation, you were supposed to be studying at your desk in your childhood bedroom… not getting caught in bed masturbating by your mother's coworker.

To say getting caught had been embarrassing was an understatement. That he'd seen the glistening of your arousal on your fingers when you'd quickly retracted your hand from your panties and seen the porn video flicker over your phone screen… was even worse. But the fact that he was the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen, was definitely the worst part of this situation.

"'m sorry, sweetheart," he let out an embarrassed chuckle, like he couldn't believe what he'd walked in on, "I was just lookin' for the bathroom."

"It's at the end of the hall," you peeped out.

"Right… thanks," he said, his hand still lingering on your door handle.

A beat passed, and your eyes locked with his where you could glimpse something darker clouding them. It ignited something inside you, played the strings of the arousal still settling inside you, and sparked a hint of bravery in the pit of your stomach.

"You can use my bathroom if you like?" Biting down on your bottom lip, a lilt of innocence coated your words.

Something like a smile twitched over his face, and his grip on the door handle tightened slightly as he seemed to weigh his options. A loud choir of laughs could be heard coming from the back yard, and like the sound had made the decision for him, he stepped inside your bedroom.

"Through here?" he asked, pointing to your open bathroom door.

"Yes," you nodded, putting on a sugar coated smile across your face. When he'd closed the door after him, you weren't thinking straight; the lingering arousal from earlier drove your actions.

What was his name again? Something starting with J… John? James? No. Joel– Joel Miller.

Removing your hoodie and exposing the ribbed tank top underneath you remembered how he'd introduced himself to you at the start of the night. He'd been early, and your mother had forced you to say hello right before you'd sought refuge in your room for the rest of the night. His hand had engulfed your own as he'd shook it, calloused hands rough against your skin, and the friendly wink he'd given you as he'd introduced himself had had a swarm of wings fluttering in your tummy.

Pushing the covers away your heart was beating out of your chest as you heard the toilet getting flushed and your sink turn on. This would either be the worst or the best decision you'd ever made.

When he stepped out of your bathroom you sat up a little straighter and pulled your knees coquettishly to your chest – innocently, but with intent. Joel's eyes followed the movement and you knew he could see the wet spot where you'd soaked through your panties.

He didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity– he only watched you, his jaw tightening before the deep bass of his voice broke across the silence, "Y'know I work with your mother–"

"Technically you don't," you cut him off, a teasing smirk coating your lips.

Joel huffed out a short laugh. "I don't?" he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow.

"No," you shook your head slowly and spread your legs apart.

Joel's eyes were nothing close to subtle as you exposed yourself to him. "You shouldn't be doin' this, sweetheart– d'you know how old I am?"

"I don't care," you sighed, and let a hand glide down your body, your fingers toying with the elastic band of your panties.

"Clearly," he remarked, his voice strained.

Slipping your hand into your panties, your fingers found your clit where you started to press down in tight circles. Hitching out a small breath your eyes never left Joel's, and you watched as his whole body stiffened.

"Sweetheart," he warned, his voice stern as he stepped closer.

"Please," you breathed out, fingers still working your clit.

"Please, what?" he pressed, stepping so close to your bed now he could reach out to touch you.

"Please…" you pouted, making Joel let out a deep groan, "Want you to fuck me."

"Fuck– you're dirty baby," he whispered, and the way his voice seemed to get deeper and deeper made you rub your clit even faster.

"You have no idea," you whimpered as you looked up at him as innocently as you possibly could through your lashes, but you knew he saw right through your little ruse when his hand locked around your bare knee.

One sweet little plea was all it took for him to snap, and in one quick sweep Joel had you on your knees in front of him. The straps of your tank top had fallen off your shoulders from his manhandling, exposing the top of your chest. Your hands moved with haste then, fingering the buckle of his belt and pushing it through the loop.

"Fuck… Is this really what ya want, sweetheart?" Joel asked, his hand finding your cheek and letting his thumb skate over your skin.

Looking up at him through your lashes you nodded into his hand. It felt insane to admit it, but there was nothing you wanted more in this moment than him; a man you barely knew, a man too old to be even close to appropriate, but it only turned you on even more.

Over you, Joel's eyes had darkened into a stormy sea where rough waves of arousal crashed against his irises. Staring into your own eyes, Joel's jaw tightened and then popped. "Fuck… undo my belt, sweetheart," he ordered and let go of your cheek.

Wasting no time your fingers pulled his belt from the loops and popped the button of his pants. Through the fabric you could feel the way his cock had hardened, and you couldn't help but lean in closer to press open mouthed kisses along his clothed length.

"That's a good girl," Joel sighed, as the comforting weight of his hand found the back of your head. You couldn't help but sigh at the praise and a rumbling laugh tore through his chest at your reaction.

"You liked that didn't you?" he coaxed.

Turning your face to the side, you pressed your cheek against his clothed cock while you looked up to find his eyes. If your panties weren't soaked through with your arousal and your whole body tingling with excitement, you'd be embarrassed. But in this moment, Joel's teasing only made you wetter.

"Please," you begged, wide-eyed and pathetic with arousal, "please, I need your cock."

Joel's hand found the back of your neck where he gripped it, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make a point.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Need to be fucked nice and hard by a real man, huh?" he mocked, his voice laced with fake pity. Before you could whine out an answer he let go of your neck with a small push. "But first…" he grinned and leaned back, fishing out your phone from your sheets, "let's see what's made you this fuckin' needy for m'cock."

The video you'd watched, before he'd walked in on you with your fingers down your panties, were still playing silently on your phone. Still on your knees for him, you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment when his eyes widened and a small chuckle left his lips.

Holding your phone an arms length away from his face, he read out loud, "'Big Dicked Daddy Creampies Needy girl'– that's what you want sweetheart, need to get fucked raw and filled up with cum?"

"Yes," you nodded, eagerly and desperate, your cunt so wet it was starting to hurt.

"Yes, what, sweetheart?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow, "let me hear ya say it f'me."

"Yes… Daddy?" you tried, and a satisfied smile spread across Joel's face. Throwing your phone back on your bed, Joel's fingers undid his zipper.

"Now take my cock out– c'mon," he ordered, almost impatiently.

With fingers shaking from excitement, you looped them through the elastic band of his underwear and pulled it down along with his pants, revealing inch by inch of his thick hard cock. Leaning back on your haunches you tipped your head back slightly to avoid his cock hitting you in the face.

Freed from its confinements, you wasted no time wrapping your hands around him.

His cock was thick with a throbbing vein running down to the base where a patch of dark and silver wiry hair met his happy trail. At the tip of him a pearl of precum had started to bead, and mesmerized you leaned forward to place a soft kiss to the thick head.

A deep noise rumbled in Joel's chest at your action, and his hand fell back to rest on the back of your head again. "Spit on it, baby–" he sighed and pushed your head a little closer, "C'mon, stroke that spit in."

Tipping your head back slightly, you met his eyes while you gathered a blob of spit in your mouth and spat! Your spit dribbled over the shaft and over where your fist struggled to meet around him, and with slick slow movements, you started to stroke his cock.

"Thaaaat's it," Joel groaned, "just like that."

Shifting your weight on your knees you sat up a little straighter as you jerked his cock in a slow steady rhythm. Your spit made the glide go easy, and above you Joel let out short deep groans with every tug on his cock. Leaning in a little closer, you lined the tip up with your mouth, but before you wrapped your lips around him, you hesitated.

"C’mon, sweetheart, nothin’ to be afraid of,” he soothed, the hand at the back of your head pushing you forward towards his cock, “I know you wanna taste.”

With his encouragement, you closed your lips around the tip of his hard cock – tasting him, finally, for the first time. Running your tongue around the sensitive head in slow circles, you teased the underside of him as you hummed, closing your eyes with contentment.

"There you go," he whispered, "S'good, baby."

Encouraged, you took him deeper into your mouth, testing your limits as the hefty length of him made room for himself inside your mouth. You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat, and forcing you to pull back with a cough.

"You're alright, baby," he cooed, stroking the back of your head as you recovered through gasps of air.

Never known to be a quitter, you pushed him back down your throat again a second time. Dropping your jaw and relaxing your throat, it was easier this time, and soon you were bopping your head on his cock. In your mouth you felt his cock grow even harder, and soon enough Joel met your mouth with small thrusts of his own.

Hushed rambles of praise fell from his lips. A sweet symphony through the wet sound of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Snot ran from your nose and mixed with the spit dripping down your chin while tears started to travel down your cheeks in salty rivers. It was dirty, and wet, and so so hot. Pulling off every once in a while when you needed air, you flashed him a wet smile before he was back in your throat again.

Through your open window, a sudden loud cheer came from the garden and startled you. Accidentally you pushed him down too deep, gagging yourself on his cock. Gasping for air you quickly pulled off his cock.

"I know," he cooed, two large palms wiping at the spit around your jaw, "You did so well, baby."

"N-need you to touch me, Daddy," you told him with pleading eyes, your voice raw and used.

"Yeah?" he coaxed, "Bend over then, sweetheart, let Daddy see you pussy."

With a strong hand wrapped around your bicep, Joel helped you on your feet. Unsteady like a newborn foal, he pushed you down on your stomach against the edge of your twin bed. His hands found your ass where they rubbed soothing circles over the muscle, before you felt him split your ass cheeks apart to put your clothed cunt on display.

"You're a little slut aren't you, sweetheart?" he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice, "You're so fuckin' wet f'me and I ain't even touched you yet," he laughed.

But there was nothing to laugh about in this situation.

A second later Joel pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wet cunt to him and let a harsh spank come down on your folds.

With a whiny cry, your whole body jerked at the impact. A prickling pain mixed with your burning arousal, and even with practically no stimulation, you felt right on the edge already.

One strong hand gathered your wrists behind your back as you felt the weight of him over your back. "Shhh," he hushed into your ear. With his other hand he guided the wide head of his cock through your soaked folds, slicking himself in your arousal. "Listen," he commanded, "y'hear how fuckin' wet you are?"

He gave you no room to answer him as he pushed the head past your entrance, and filled you up with his cock in one rough jerk of his hips. Instead, what came out of your mouth was a surprised moan.

"Bet that felt good, huh? That pussy's finally filled up like she needed?" Joel cooed into your ear.

Nodding your head, your cheek pressed tightly to your mattress, you managed to croak out a satisfied, "Yes, Daddy."

Pleased, Joel pulled out slowly before he slammed back inside you again, splitting you open on his cock as he made you take it. He felt so big inside you, that heavy pressure of him hitting the deepest parts of you just right with every kant of his hips. Moaning unabashedly, you let him fuck you hard and fast, guiding your body back against his cock with the grip of his hand around your wrist.

"'f your mother only knew what a fuckin' slut you are, baby," he hushed out under his breath between jerks of his hips. "The door's not even locked– anyone could walk in on you gettin' fucked."

Lost on the feeling of his cock inside you, a fire ignited in your belly at his words. You felt yourself get even more turned on at the thought of getting caught, of exactly how exposed you'd be if someone were to open your bedroom door at exactly this moment.

"Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout it– I won't tell," Joel told you, emphasizing every word with a harsh thrust.

Pushing himself as deep as he could, his balls slapping against your clit, a deep moan rumbled from deep in his chest. Your own moan got stuck in your chest as he grinded his hips against your ass – making sure the tip of his cock rubbed against your g-spot – before he resumed his rhythm.

"You're makin' such a big mess on my cock, sweetheart… it's drippin' down my balls," he grunted, "That turn you on? Getting caught gettin' fucked by an old man?" he chuckled.

"P-please," was the only thing you could manage between your breathy mewls, "I-I'm c-close."

"Yeah, I know, baby, I know. Can feel you squeezin' me so fuckin' tight– so perfect for this big cock," he praised.

Shifting his grip around your wrist, he snuck his other hand between your legs where his calloused fingers found your neglected clit. Pushing down on it in rough circles, you let out a squeal at the new stimulation.

"I know, I know, sweetheart, " he cooed, "I know you want to come all over Daddy's big cock– come while I rub this little clit."

"Y-yes," you moaned, his hips slapping harshly against your ass as Joel brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Tears had started to darken your sheets with a wet patch as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

"You want my cum don't you? Want it inside?" he grunted the question in your ear.

"Please," you hiccuped.

Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder, as he sped up his rhythm.

"Fuck, baby, 'm close– come f'me now, come for Daddy," he commanded, and with the kant of his hips and a flick of your clit, you came around Joel's thick cock.

Arching your back off the mattress and kanting your hips, your body shook as you rode through your high. Above you, Joel’s movement had become even more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

Pushing himself deep inside you, Joel came inside you. A warmth filled you as he emptied himself, filling you and coating your walls with his spend.

"That's it– take that fuckin' cum," he rambled, forcing your hips to stay flush against his thighs.

As both your highs started to slowly fizzle out, Joel slowly pulled back and pushed his hips back in shallow thrusts, making sure to give you every single drop of his cum. Sensitive from your orgasm, the pressure of his thick cock inside you was almost too much, and with a small whine you pulled away.

"No-no-no," he said, his hands tightening around your hips, "Stay right there just a little longer f'me baby– good girl."

Satiated, you released a breathy sigh into the mattress as you felt a tiredness wrap itself around you. Joel's hands loosened around your hips, instead he rubbed soft circles over your skin, before he slowly pulled out and snapped your panties back in place.

For a beat you didn't move, but the metal sound of Joel's belt buckling had you turning over on your back. The lamp on your bed side table casted soft warm shadows over his face as you watched him put himself back together again.

"You okay?" he asked you, his voice low but warm – all his rough teasing gone now and replaced by the friendly man you'd shaken hands with for the first time only a few hours ago.

"More than okay," you smiled, "I can't believe that actually happened."

Your words pulled a chuckle from his chest. "Wouldn't mind if it happened again," he smiled.

"Me neither."

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

i hope someone out there liked this little fic. i'd love to hear your thoughts either in a comment or as an ask! <3

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

[trainer-from-unova]

summer of love

Ⓢ english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ

ship: robert reynolds x afab!reader

summary: it's summer and bob's birthday is around the corner so the new avengers convinced val to give them a weekend to celebrate his birthday party at the beach. because of your feelings and your strong friendship with him you're the one who organised everything and the one who gifted him more gifts, and one of those gifts it's helping him lose his virginity

au: for plot reasons bob goes to missions but I didn't specify whether he uses his powers to any extent or as a soldier trained by the others

c/w: road and weekend trip, beach and pool episode vibes (from an ecchi anime lmao), topless at the beach, domestic fluff, birthday party, alcohol, drinking games / questions, birthday sex, unsafe piv sex, bob has an oral fixation, biting, nipple play and licking, cunnilingus, face-sitting, masturbation, gentle and rough kissing, virgin!bob, submissive!bob, needy!bob, horny thoughts, praise kink, edging, dacryphilia I guess, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, creampie, friends to lovers, friendship so strong between them that they can joke and laugh during foreplay, third pov, use of y/n (like a lot)

a/n: virgin!bob and face-sitting was a request, and needy and nervous submissive!bob was another one, so I decided to mix them with my ideas: beach episode and birthday party / sex. I don't have experience writing (nor reading) virgin men nor face-sitting nor submissive men / dominant women soooo I tried my best and hope you all like it, also english isn't my first language and for more notes and tags check ao3

word count: 9290

Bob's birthday was around the corner, and pretending they had forgotten to surprise him wasn't an option. ______ knew firsthand how important birthdays were — a before and after, a new beginning. And it wasn't just a celebration of getting a year older, it was a celebration of staying alive. Bob's birthdays (and those of anyone on the team) may not have been joyous in the past, but now he had a family that was glad to have him to celebrate them with.

______ had organised everything weeks in advance, and she was so excited it almost felt like her birthday, but she couldn't help it because she was in love with him. After a lot of begging they managed to get a weekend off all at once, and since it was summer they decided to rent a mansion in the Hamptons on the beachfront for a change of scenery, celebrate Bob's birthday and relax on the beach. Also, since they would probably need them to get around, they decided to go in cars even though going by helicopter or private jet would be faster: ______, Bob, Yelena and Fanny went in one and Bucky, Ava, John and Alexei in another, listening and singing along to the Spotify playlist they all shared, with songs they had all chosen and sometimes also played in the tower while training or doing other things. After about four hours of driving they arrived at the address, were greeted by the owner and took the suitcases out of the cars.

"Be careful with this one, please," ______ asked Bucky as he took one of her suitcases from the boot of the car she'd been in, parked in the courtyard while Bob and the others explored the inside of the mansion. They were probably on the first floor, choosing their bedrooms.

"There's no physiological need to bring so much stuff," said John, nonchalantly hefting some suitcases over his shoulders as they all made their way to the open door to go inside.

"Most of them are presents for Bob," she said in a whisper, slightly embarrassed.

"What did you get him?" asked Alexei, also carrying suitcases on his shoulders.

"The question is, what didn't she buy him?" said Bucky, carrying the suitcase she had indicated as if it was a princess in his arms.

"A little bit of everything, really... I may have overdone it a bit, yeah..."

Maybe then Bob would feel in a bind, wanting to pay her back when it was her birthday, but when it came to thinking and buying the presents she felt they weren't enough, especially considering that being an Avenger she now had plenty of money to spare.

But inside some suitcases she had a lot of snacks, drinks and even ingredients (and Yelena had obviously taken Fanny's feed as well). So they wouldn't have to waste time shopping there, she would make the cake there too, and so as not to waste time cooking they would order food and go to restaurants.

It was around six o'clock on Friday evening when everyone was settled, suitcases unpacked and everything in place, so it was time to start baking the cake, and considering it was a summer Friday the sooner they ordered the better as the food was sure to take a long time to arrive.

"And I'll have a pepperoni pizza," Yelena said finally while Bucky wrote down everything in his mobile phone notes, so that Alexei, who was the one who was going to order by his phone, wouldn't forget anything.

They were all around the kitchen island, and upon hearing his daughter's order Alexei nodded and withdrew with his mobile in one hand and Bucky's mobile in the other to make the call more calmly. Bucky went behind him in case the screen of the mobile was blocked, to unlock it with his fingerprint.

"So who's going to help me bake the cake?" asked ______ as she opened the fridge. There were basic things, like milk and water, that the landlady left for her guests or that others had left before them, so luckily there was no need to go out shopping to make it.

"Me," said Yelena as she went to the drawers in search of utensils.

"And me," said John as he went in search of the aprons where the landlady had said they were.

"Cake?" asked Bob. "Really?" he asked resignedly, since he'd had that conversation with her before and didn't think he needed to repeat it, but deep down he was glad that she was paying so much attention to him for several reasons, among them and above all because he was in love with her. Deep down he couldn't help but smile, a smile that he passed on to the organiser.

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm really going to bake you a cake for your birthday?" She asked the same question as she slammed the fridge shut, holding a huge brick of milk in her hands.

"I said I didn't need to," Bob said as she set the milk down on the counter, next to the utensils Yelena was pulling out of the drawers.

"Shhhh, shut up," she said putting the index finger of her dominant hand in front of her lips as she laughed.

"It's not a proper birthday party if there's no cake, is it?" Ava asked, surveying the scene hunched over the counter while John pulled on an apron.

"If you don't eat the rest of us will eat for you, don't worry," John said half-jokingly but half-seriously as he handed aprons to the girls.

"Yeah, especially him," Ava said to Bob referring to John, since John and the others (including him, even though he was playing hard to get with the cake) were eating like crazy because of their serums.

"Well, then let me help too," said Bob.

"You're the birthday boy, you can't help make the cake," said Yelena as she tied her apron.

"Exactly!" exclaimed ______. "Go to the beach, enjoy yourself," she said to Bob. "Take him," she said to Ava while pointing to the open door towards the beach, and seeing Alexei and Bucky approaching again, she asked them. "Take him."

"Come on, let's go change," Bucky said to Bob, putting his arm around him to walk him towards the stairs. Bob craned his neck to look at ______ resigned but laughing, and she looked at him the same way. Ava and Alexei followed behind them, apart from Alexei reporting that the pizzas would take almost two hours to arrive.

They stood there preparing the cake with a recipe that ______ had saved on her mobile phone, and then the others went downstairs in their swimming costumes with towels in their hands to go to the beach. They decided to make two to make the most of the ingredients, so they wouldn't have to return with them to Manhattan or leave them there, and also so that none (of the men) would go hungry. Luckily it didn't take long, and she and John were left to decorate one of the cakes while Yelena took Fanny for a walk. When they finished they put them in the fridge and then went upstairs to change clothes to go to the beach with the others during the golden hour. When the pizzas arrived they had a picnic dinner on the sand while they watched the sunset overlooking the ocean.

"Can we have cake?" asked Alexei as they packed up and headed into the house for the night.

"The cake is for tomorrow," answered Yelena as they started walking across the sand to the mansion.

"He's not going to blow out the candles" said ______ referring to the birthday boy, in the same position as Yelena, "with the cake in pieces."

"But there are two," reminded Bucky. The truth is, like Alexei, he too wanted to try the cake for once.

"What if I'm in the mood now, too?" asked Bob, trying his luck as he joked, "Can't I even do it?"

"You said you didn't want to," she said playing along in the same tone.

"I said you needn't bother to do it."

"Ohhhh," she exclaimed smiling sideways. "Well... If you want to," she added resignedly. "Only if Bob gives you permission," she said to the others, "they're his cakes."

And then they all looked at Bob, and he gave his approval. They ate the cake they didn't decorate and watched a film of Bob's choice, and then Yelena walked Fanny one last time and they went to bed, because it was still a working day and they had got up early that morning.

The next morning they woke up early as usual, even if they didn't have their alarms set. Their bodies were used to waking up at a certain time, but this way they could take the opportunity to go to the beach early and get a good spot on the shore. Everyone congratulated and hugged Bob on seeing him, Yelena took Fanny for a walk, and Alexei and Bucky went to buy alcohol and more snacks.

It was still early and the day was going to get better in ways he could only imagine in his wettest daydreams, but for the moment the best gift Bob got was the sight of _______ in her bikini. And then, as they settled into their chosen spot on the sand, she took off her bikini top to apply sunscreen to her breasts, as she intended to sunbathe but didn't want to get the bikini mark on her skin or get sunburnt. Part of him didn't want to look, or at least he didn't want to be noticed looking (particularly by her), but he couldn't stop even if he tried — if he didn't look at her bare breasts then his eyes went to her inner thighs. For better or worse John nudged him as he applied sunscreen as well, getting his attention — for a moment he thought he had been inadvertently hit as he rubbed the cream into his skin, but seeing his facial expression he realised it was a predetermined act. With the look he gave him, along with a little smirk, he didn't need telepathy to know what he was thinking. "Look carefully, man." Bucky caught his eye too, he looked the same as John, but he offered him a pair of sunglasses. He knew he wasn't just offering them so the sun wouldn't bother him.

"Thank you," he whispered, embarrassed and blushing as he took them and put them on.

"Aren't you guys going to put sunscreen on?" Ava asked as she put some on as well, looking at Alexei and Bob.

"I want to get a tan," Alexei replied as Ava asked John to help her put it on her back.

"What you're going to do is get burned," Yelena said as she approached him with her jar of cream in hand. "You can also get tanned by putting cream on your back. That's what we do."

While Yelena helped her father cream his back and John did the same with Ava, and correctly assuming that it was only a matter of seconds before ______ asked someone to help her cream her back, Bucky went to the shore with the excuse of testing the water temperature so that the only option at that moment was Bob. He also assumed correctly that even if they didn't know he had done it on purpose they would be grateful with him.

"Can you help me, please?" she said looking at Bob, offering him the cream.

"Uh- Yeah, sure," he replied approaching her, taking the jar in his hand as she turned her back to him.

He poured a good dollop of cream into the palm of his dominant hand, and for a moment he didn't know what to do, or rather where to touch first. If it were up to him he would pull her closer to him, hug her from behind and put his hands on her breasts while spreading her thighs with his leg, but he had to settle for rubbing the cream gently over her back. Good thing he was wearing his sunglasses, and especially good thing she he was on her back, because he couldn't stop staring at how well his hand was gliding down her bare back, from her shoulders to dangerously close to where the only article of clothing she wore was.

"What about you?" asked ______, wondering why he didn't intend to cream himself. "What's your excuse?"

"I have the feeling that the sun can't burn me anymore," he answered.

"But what if it does?" Ava asked.

"The burns are very uncomfortable and painful," said John, "being from Florida you should know better."

"And I'm sure Valentina won't discharge you two for it," said Yelena, including her father.

"You don't lose anything by putting cream on you," said John, "let ______ help you putting it on your back."

Now it was time for them both to be grateful to them, and it was also time for her to rub cream on his back, so when he said he had finished (unfortunately for him, for if it had been up to him he would have been touching her for longer) he handed her back the cream and they changed positions. Even if it was only on his back he loved the feel of her hands on him, and she loved sliding them over his muscles even more.

"It's cold," Bucky warned as he climbed out of the water when he saw Bob approaching the shore.

"Just what I need," he replied as he mindlessly waded into the ocean.

"Yeah," said Bucky, laughing, "it's too hot."

"Thank you again," he said as he turned to watch him walk away to where the others were, and he held up the fist and thumb of his flesh hand.

They spent most of the day there, drinking beers and eating snacks and pizzas from the day before, which they heated up in a moment in the house's oven and microwave. It was in the middle of the afternoon that they went back inside, to wash up and get ready for dinner at a nearby burger restaurant, since that was Bob's favourite food (and if they ordered it out, it was impossible for it to arrive hot and for them to reheat it themselves).

They would have dessert at home, which was the cake that was decorated with a heart and his name, and on it two candles in the shape of the numbers of the years he was celebrating, stuck like the arrow shot by Cupid that he had in his.

Being sung Happy Birthday made him a little nervous, but to him and everyone else because what are you supposed to do during it? Besides all the attention, but at least it was genuine attention from people who did love and care about him, and he was very grateful to have them in his life. He loved them all dearly, but he had a favourite.

"Don't forget to make a wish!" she reminded him, grinning from ear to ear as she recorded it on her mobile phone. He looked at her smiling, then blew out the candles as everyone cheered and clapped.

When everyone went to get their presents he was surprised to see her appear with a pile of presents in her arms, she could hardly fit them and was careful not to drop any of them on the floor.

"Why did you buy me so many?" he asked as he watched her leave them on the table where he was sitting, also confused.

"Oh and wait," said Alexei, "there's more on the first floor."

"I don't know," she laughed nervously and blushed slightly as she unstacked the pile on the table, "I felt there weren't enough of them and I didn't really know what to get you, so I felt that the more I got you the more chances you'd like one of them. Hold on a second," she said holding up the index finger of her dominant hand, "I'll be right back," she said as she turned to head for the stairs to get the remaining ones.

"We're going to be here for half an hour," Ava said half jokingly and half seriously after Bob had opened everyone else's presents first, when it was time to open ______'s presents. Already the table and floor was littered with torn wrapping paper.

"Sorry," she said embarrassed, "you don't need to be here if you don't want to be, so take your drinks out to the swimming pool."

They may not have realised that the other was reciprocating their feelings, but everyone else knew it — it was obvious to the outside eye and they knew that they would rather be alone if possible, even if it was for something like opening presents. Still they all looked confusedly at each other and at Bob, seeking his approval.

"Yeah, no problem guys," he replied.

"Okay," Yelena replied.

And he opened each gift with her sitting next to him, telling her in detail why she had bought him that particular gift, why she thought he would like it or find it useful. He listened delightedly, marvelling at how well she knew him and enjoying her attention and affection.

"It's amazing- You're amazing, I don't know how I can ever repay you for all this."

"Oh don't worry," she said shyly, ducking her eyes to take a quick glance at the two small gifts on her thighs.

Among all the gifts, torn paper and the tablecloth had been easy to hide. She wanted those gifts to be the last ones because they were the most personal. It was a letter and some friendship bracelets that she had made herself, and surprisingly she was more embarrassed to give him the bracelet than the letter, because even though she had written him a cheesy letter it wasn't a romantic declaration of love (although she thought about it, but she didn't feel quite sure and didn't want to steal his protagonism on his birthday).

"Okay, the one I'm going to give you now is the penultimate one... It's stupid, you don't have to wear it if you don't want to for some reason, it's silly, but..." she shrugged, and he obviously realised how nervous she was and wanted to calm her down.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll love it," she smiled apologetically as well as warmly, and then took his bracelet and raised both fists, making him have to choose. He touched her left fist with the index finger of his right hand and opened it, revealing an empty palm. Then she hid her hands again and did the same a couple more times, not opening her hand even if he got it right. "Oh come on," he laughed.

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Here you go," she said opening her fist where she had his bracelet, also taking hers on her thighs with her free hand at the same time. "They're friendship bracelets," she said as he took the one she offered him and as she showed him hers.

"Ohhh! It's so cool!" he said as he looked at his, and he wasn't lying or exaggerating. "Let's see yours?" and she held it up to him so he could get a better look. They were both beaded bracelets of various shapes and colours, but Bob's had his name in beads of various shades of yellow and blue and hers had her name in other colours. "What if... I wear yours and you wear mine? I think that makes more sense," he said shyly as he shrugged his shoulders, "so we'll always be there for each other."

"Oh," she said without thinking as the proposition took her by surprise, but she loved the fact that he wanted to wear a bracelet with her name on it and she wanted to wear one with his on it, "yeah, of course," she replied enthusiastically, and they exchanged bracelets and put them on. Bob's was a little big on her, and his was a little small on her, but it was bearable.

"I've never had anything like this done to me before," he confessed with a touch of tenderness as he looked at the bracelet on his wrist.

"I'm glad I'm the first," she said with a smile on her face as she looked at him.

"Really, thank you so much," he thanked her now as he looked at her in the same way he looked at the bracelet on hia wrist, "for everything- Wait- You said it was the second to last one."

"Yeah... It's another cheesy one," she said as she took the envelope on her thighs and handed it to him. "But I don't want you to open this now," she said as he took it.

"Oh come on," he said slightly annoyed again and disappointed as he was looking forward to seeing what it was.

"It's embarrassing," she replied.

"Well... Okay."

"Come on," she said as she stood up and picked up the wrapping paper lying around to roll it into a ball and throw it in the bin, "let's go to the swimming pool with these."

"Well, all right," he said resignedly, and helped her pack up. They took his gifts up to his bedroom, put on their swimming costumes and went downstairs with the others. "Look what ______ made me," he said showing off the bracelet as they approached the others, sitting on sofas and armchairs in the courtyard.

"Ohhh," exclaimed Yelena, "it's very cute."

"In theory he was supposed to wear one with his name on it," she said showing the one she was wearing, "but he thought of swapping them," which surprised no one.

"Probably my favourite- of her presents," the birthday boy quickly clarified, not wanting to make them feel bad, "I still have one left to open."

The swimming pool was bright thanks to the lights and warm from all the sunlight that had hit it throughout the day, but even so, since it wasn't so hot anymore because it was night time, the swim wasn't so pleasant, so between that and the fact that they felt like drinking again, they didn't last long in there. When they had dried off with their towels they sat down again on the sofas and armchairs, this time all of them, and started drinking and chatting. But there comes a point when you run out of topics of conversation, especially considering that they literally do everything together as co-workers and housemates, so they started to play drinking games, asking each other personal questions. At this point it was John's turn to ask Bob.

"Mmm... I don't know," he said as he tried to think of a question. "I don't know," he said with a shrug, "body count?" he said not particularly interested in the answer, it was obviously the first thing that popped into his mind and he settled for it.

"Um... I don't keep count..." he answered shyly, and completely gained everyone's attention, but especially ______'s, who jealously clutched the cup she was holding in her hand tighter without realising it.

"Really?" asked Bucky in surprise.

"Are you a fuckboy?" asked Alexei as ______ raised the cup in her hand to her lips. "And when?" he asked in surprise as they used to keep Bob under control in every way and he didn't get out of the tower much. They didn't generally visualise him being obsessed with girls.

"Wait, fuckboy?" asked the birthday boy in confusion. "I thought you meant assassinations on missions," he said looking at his blond male friend.

"What? No!" said John, "I meant how many people you've fucked."

"Oh, well... None, or at least that I remember," he replied, surprisingly calmer than when he said he didn't keep track (of the murders), but still a bit shy about telling something so sexually intimate (in front of the girl he was in love with), and then, hearing that answer, ______ couldn't help but cough and spit some drink out of her mouth, stealing the attention from Bob and deciding to spit the drink into the soil of a flowerpot she was standing next to.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking totally embarrassed, "it went the other way," and she wasn't partly lying.

They spent some more time there but went to bed early, or at least to lock themselves in their bedrooms. Bob was anxious to open the envelope ______ had given him, and he opened it sitting on his bed by the light of one of the little lamps on the bedside tables beside. When he saw that it was a letter (quite long) he lay down to read it quietly.

By the middle of the letter his eyes were watering, and by the end tears were running down his sides and into his ears, and he wept with joy as he read how much she appreciated him. He read it three times, and even if it wasn't a romantic love letter (although it was rather ambiguous), it was in fact a love letter through and through. He couldn't believe his luck, that day and in general. He had (almost) everything he wanted, and he couldn't wait to express his gratitude, so he put the letter aside and reached for his mobile phone under his pillow.

Bob: You're probably asleep and you'll see this tomorrow

Bob: But I just read your letter

Bob: And I want to thank you

Bob: Right now

Bob: I'm speechless

Bob: If I loved you less maybe I could talk about it more

Bob: I mean

Bob: I'm not implying that you love me less for all that you've written me

Bob: On the contrary!

Bob: Look, I don't know

Bob: You know me

Bob: And I'm really glad you're in my life too

Bob: I wish I could hug you right now

Bob: I love you too

Bob: I love you very much

Bob: Although I feel that those three words alone are not enough to express how much I love you

Bob: Maybe I should write you a letter too

And then he thought that maybe he was already saying too much — he was too emotional and like everyone else he let his guard down emotionally at night (but he couldn't blame it on the alcohol he had drunk earlier, because thanks to the serum it didn't affect him anymore). He wanted to delete the last two messages, but unfortunately it was not possible in that app. And to make matters worse, he saw the "Seen". Instantly he dropped the phone as if it was burning in his hands, leaving it on the mattress and putting his hands to his mouth as he did when he saw John fall down the lift shaft the day he met them. When he saw "Typing..." he quickly removed his hands from his mouth to exit their chat room at the same speed, seeing the messages in the notification bar.

______: I'm glad you liked it

______: 🥹🥹🥹🥹

______: I want my hug 😤

______: Right now!!!!

______: I'm going to your room

______: Give me 30 seconds

He wasn't expecting that, but he wouldn't complain either because it was just what he wanted: to see her, to hug her, to feel her. He quickly wiped his tears and got out of bed and headed for the door, trying to calm down and act as if nothing had happened, and just as she had indicated in the message, in thirty seconds she was there, tapping twice on the door. He opened it and there she was, wearing only a huge shirt (with clearly nothing underneath holding her breasts in place) and a huge smile that infected him. Then she took a few steps forward into the room and closer to him, standing on her tiptoes as he curled up to embrace her once and for all.

"I love you so much," he whispered in her ear, trying not to sound too romantic or desperate, though it didn't really help the way he was holding her: wrapping his arms around her as if his life was at stake, gently yet tightly.

"I love you too," she said tenderly, hugging his bare chest in the same way. He was only wearing a swimming costume because it was clearly hot, but instead of the balcony being open, it was all closed up and the ceiling fan was on full blast.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked worriedly when they parted.

"No, I had my mobile on silent mode and it's impossible for me to fall asleep so quickly, besides I'm not sleepy yet."

"Me too, actually."

And the same idea came up in both of their minds, only she was quicker to formulate it.

"Can I stay here for a while?"

"Sure," he replied as he stepped aside to let her pass, and as she went into the room he closed the door.

"Did you have a good time today?" she asked as she climbed into bed, taking the liberty of lying on her side.

He couldn't help noticing how the pose emphasised her curves and the folds of her shirt.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked as she did the same in the same position.

"I want to hear it coming out of your mouth," she answered with a smile, and as usual she spread it to him.

"I had a great time today, thank you very much."

"Cool. Thanks to you."

"Thanks to me for what?" he asked with a laugh.

"For existing, I don't know," she replied shyly as she laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

He knew that at that particular moment she wasn't thanking him for not killing himself in the past, but he knew that in general she was, and that made him happy. Looking at her with tenderness and with his eyes starting to water again another idea popped into his mind, and he dared to formulate it.

"Can you hug me again?"

"Sure," she replied, "come here," she said as she stood up a little to make herself comfortable. Seeing that he didn't really know how to stand she decided to help him with directions. "Put your head on my arm," she said, referring to the arm she (and seconds later he) was using as a pillow. He did as she instructed, bending his right arm and resting his hand on her arm, and shyly placing his left hand on her waist. "Come closer," she said as she did as she had just indicated him, pulling her neck closer to his face and entwining their legs a little.

"Aren't you hot?" he asked, mingling concern with confusion, unintentionally tickling her neck with his voice. That question caused one of her eyebrows and the corners of her lips to rise.

"What do you mean?" she asked now with a small smirk on her lips.

"Because I'm too hot."

"Don't worry," she said as she began to run her fingers through the strands of his hair with the hand on the arm she was using as their pillow, causing the birthday boy to relax, closing his eyes and feeling even happier and calmer.

It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, few things were between them. They were great friends and she was generally a loving person in every way, she hugged him often and they had no problem telling each other that they loved each other despite being in love with each other, but this was the first time they had cuddled like this, late at night and almost naked.

"Bob," she said after a few minutes in comfortable silence.

"Mm?"

"I have... one last present for you," he broke away from her, so that she could see his confused expression and look at her as she spoke. "You can refuse if you don't want to."

"What is it?" he asked, getting more and more confused.

"Sex," she replied. The idea had been on her mind for a little while, but she hadn't had enough alcohol to show complete bravery or make the idea seem crazy the next morning, so her nerves got the better of her as she was brought back to her senses by her friend's surprised facial expression. "I mean- For a moment I thought it would be a good idea because I assumed you'd want to lose it for good and that you'd feel more comfortable doing it with a friend, but seriously," she said nervously, "if you don't want to, it's fine and I understand, no hard feelings."

"Are you sure?" he asked surprised and confused. He was happy too, but it seemed like he was living a dream, and if he really was, he'd rather not wake up.

"Yeah."

"But do you really want to fuck me?"

"Uh- Yeah Bob," she answered, blushing and holding back a nervous laugh.

"Why?"

"Because you're really hot, honestly," or not quite, because she still didn't dare to confess that it was also because she was in love with him, and this wouldn't be a good time to do it if she dared. At that moment she could make the excuse that she just wanted to help a friend having sex with him without having to risk her feelings not being reciprocated, which was partly true, but not entirely. "And because I want to help you and make you happy."

"You don't mind that I'm inexperienced?"

"Of course not," she said confidently, placing the palm of her right hand on his cheek. "In fact," she said, smiling and blushing, "I'm glad to have the chance to be the first," she said stroking his cheek with her thumb. "It means you won't forget me."

"I'm going to need your help...." He said, and instantly felt her rub her knee against his cock, which began to harden as he cuddled with her. "A-And.... I don't know if I can last long..." He said nervously and ridiculously excited, it was already showing in his voice and breathing.

"It's okay honey," she said smiling warmly as she brushed his hair out of his face, "don't worry."

You could say that kissing was like signing the agreement, getting down to business. It was she who moved closer to him, leaning in and breaking what little space there was between them. She didn't know if she was his first kiss too, but she liked to think she was, it made her feel even more special. She took pity on him kissing him slowly, and he played along until they started to get hotter and hotter. Although he moaned as much or maybe even more than she did to her surprise he wasn't a bad kisser, maybe it was beginner's luck.

"Do you want to do it with the light off or on?" She asked with bated breath as they broke apart for lack of air.

"On, I want to see you," he dared to answer in the same state, which brought a smile to her face.

Then she told him to sit on the edge of the bed, getting up to take off her panties and then her shirt in front of him, who watched her in astonishment.

"Aren't you going to undress?" she said pointing to his swimming costume with a clear erection as she approached him, raising an eyebrow and smiling playfully.

"Oh, right," he said nervously as he stood up and pulled down his swimming costume, dropping it to the floor and releasing his erection. Now the only thing they had on were their bracelets, and obviously he felt her eyes on his crotch, her eyes went there as his eyes went to hers and her breasts again.

"Good size."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's perfect," she said to flatter and soothe him (but she wasn't lying) as she moved closer to him, standing on tiptoe and putting her hand back on his cheek and the other on his shoulder, motioning for him to lean in for another kiss, this time more sweetly than passionately. "And all for me," she said before kissing him.

Then she motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed with his legs spread, and he complied, resting his hands behind him. He assumed she would sit on top of his cock, but he shuddered all the same as he felt her sit on his right thigh as they settled in, feeling her wet lips on his skin and her thigh rubbing against his cock in the same way her hard nipples rubbed against his muscular torso. And then, as if that wasn't enough, she began to rub herself against him as she gave him a hickey on his neck and brought her hand to his cock. He tensed unconsciously as he felt her hand wrap around it, and she slowly but firmly stroked up and down and then down and up.

"Oh God-," he moaned without thinking, his breath hitching and his voice trembling. After a pause to try to get used to the sensation he asked, "W-What do I do?"

"Nothing right now, just relax, okay? Let me know if you feel like you're going to cum," she said as she moved to his lips to kiss him again, this time more passionately than before.

He whimpered as his voice choked in a sloppy, hungry kiss. His desperation was palpable, his cock was hot and throbbing. He whimpered at the slightest caress on it and on his thigh, adding some nonsense when their lips were parted, apart from watching hypnotised how her hand move.

Her left hand clung to his right shoulder and wrapped around his back like a normal hug, and he also wrapped his right arm around her waist. Her breath hitched as he did as she slid more and more easily up his thigh as she became wetter and wetter. Also, as she kissed him, she increased the speed of her hand even more as their arousal grew, until he groaned and told her he was close.

"That was... incredible," he said, his breath coming in ragged gasps, resting his forehead against hers.

"Well, it's only just begun," she replied, laughing softly as she stroked his chin with her fingers. "Tell me something you've always wanted to do, some kink you have, I'll fulfill it."

"Uh- I don't know..." He said hesitantly as he pulled away from her, resting his hands shyly on her waist.

"Oh come on, everyone has kinks, and it probably doesn't scare me," she said in an attempt to calm him down. "I don't judge either."

"I'm a little ashamed to say it..." he said shyly.

"I'm not afraid to do a footjo-"

"What!?" he asked confused and surprised, but laughing at the same time. "No, it's not that! Why do you think it's that!?"

"Fuck, isn't it?" she asked surprised but also holding back her laughter as she put her hand to her mouth to cover it.

"No, why do you think that?" he asked again, now desperate to know the answer as he laughed.

"It's like- the most common weird fetish among men," she replied as she shrugged, still with her hand in front of her mouth trying to hide her laughter. "But don't change the subject and tell me, come ooon," she said putting her hands on his shoulders and trying to shake him.

"Okay," he said trying to sound more serious, "but please don't laugh."

"Okay," she replied, and when she was silent she made direct eye contact with him, but her lips were trembling as she tried to hold in her laughter. It felt like when at school the teacher said that the next person who laughed would be punished, you tried to be serious but you'd look at your friend holding in your laughter and it was all fucked up, but this time Bob was both the teacher and friend. "If I laugh it's not because of that!" She hastened to add in her defence as she laughed, her laughter rubbing off on him as he dropped his back onto the mattress. At least thanks to that moment he was already calmer, both emotionally and sexually.

He stretched out an arm to grab a pillow and put it over part of his face. She could see him giggling, but as the smile faded, she, still sitting on his thigh, knew he was getting ready to confess what he wanted to do to her, or rather, what he wanted her to do to him.

"I want you to sit on my face and ride it."

"Oh," she exclaimed, trying to hide her astonishment as she hadn't expected that, but she didn't dislike the idea either, "interesting. Is that why you put the pillow over your face?" She dared to joke, "To get used?"

"Have mercy on me, please," he said as he laughed, half joking and half serious.

"I will," she said more seriously now as she settled herself, sitting on his waist and leaning forward to pull the pillow away from his face, "no problem," she said resting her hands on his shoulders, nodding and with an encouraging smile that she wanted him to see. "And it's nothing to be ashamed of or weird, a lot of men like that too," she said quietly.

"I'm beginning to worry that you know so much about men's kinks," he said again half joking and half serious.

"I had some curious experiences, yeah... But who hasn't?" she asked without thinking.

He. He didn't have any, and when she realised what she had said, which fortunately was quick, she put her hand quickly to her mouth again.

"Fuck- Sorry," she said embarrassed.

"It's all right," he said laughing resignedly as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

"So... Are you sure you want to?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"You're going to find it hard to breathe..." she warned.

"It's not like you can kill me."

"That's fair," she said smiling sideways, "all right then," she said leaning down to give him a short but sweet kiss on the lips. "But warn me if you need to stop, okay?" she said as she pulled away from him to change positions, and he nodded.

She was honestly embarrassed to find herself putting her knees to the side of his head and settling down to bring her pussy closer to his face, it was the first time she had ever done such a thing, but she was glad to experience what she was experiencing and to be able to say that in a way he had been her first time too.

But she didn't want to sit down dropping her weight — she was afraid of hurting him with her weight, though she knew that (as well as choking him) was impossible. She made eye contact with his pleading eyes, eyes that were so kind to her that they soothed her, and at the same time also excited her. And all he could see was her, but mostly he only had eyes for her.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath as she slowly sat on his face, slowly adding more and more weight until she was completely on top of him. He began to fuck her with his tongue, straining to move his tongue quickly and do his best. The instant she felt that along with the tip of his nose against her already sensitive clit she moaned and clutched at his scalp, partly for stability as she began to rub herself against him.

The moans of one excited the other, although his could barely be heard as he was crushing the lower half of her face with her pussy. Nothing but the moans of both and the sounds of his tongue licking inside him filled the bedroom (along with the ceiling fan, the only witness in there to what they were doing and which was doing nothing to quench the heat they were feeling). That made her move harder and faster against him, and the more she rubbed his nose against her clit. She felt a little guilty because she knew he couldn't breathe, but she also knew she had nothing to worry about thanks to his powers. And she was close, feeling hotter and hotter inside her, and she desperately rolled her hips on him, showing him no mercy in that regard.

With her head thrown back, her lips parted as she moaned, she arched her back and clenched her toes as the heat building in her belly surged down her body, and she unconsciously tried to pull away from him through the spasms of pleasure she felt in her clitoris. Bob held her thighs tightly in his hands, large palms that shyly and slowly slid to her buttocks, squeezing them needily when they reached them.

When she pulled away from him he felt her orgasm slide down her entrance and drip into his mouth, and then she lay defeated beside him as he wiped his face with his right arm.

"So did I do well?" He asked anxiously for the answer, turning his neck to watch her catch her breath at the same time he did, but with his eyes closed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah yeah," she moaned, still with her eyes closed, not noticing that his eyes were fixed on her breasts. "And you? Are you all right?" She asked as she opened them and craned her neck, moving her arm towards him for physical contact.

"Oh yeah," he replied with bated breath, nodding his head. "Better than ever, thank you," he said laughing nervously and blushing.

"You're welcome," she replied also laughing. She had to laugh, the situation was surreal but she was loving it.

"Um- Can I touch your tits...?" he asked shyly, trying to look her in the eyes and trying to avoid looking at them, but failing in the attempt.

"Touch anywhere you want honey, I'm all yours," she said smirking. "Come here," she indicated with her index finger, and he obeyed putting his knees at her sides and sitting on her, careful not to drop his full weight so as not to hurt her. Trembling he brought his hands to them, at last touching what he had wanted to touch all day and for months.

"Oh God," he said in awe, his breath hitching as he squeezed them, "they're so soft... And so beautiful..." he said mesmerised as he leaned down to get much closer to them, and as an idea popped into his mind he looked up, "Can I suck them...?"

She didn't even answer, she just grabbed him by the back of the head with her dominant hand and put his face in them. He rubbed his face against them and in the cleavage, and then, while squeezing one he did everything with the nipple of the other: kissing, biting and pulling, licking and sucking... — not necessarily in that order, he just did what he felt without thinking, moving from one action to another when he got tired of one, and the same from one tit to the other. Now that he had the chance to touch her exactly where he wanted to he wasn't going to waste it.

"Bob..." she moaned as she lifted his chin, wanting to get his attention and make him look at her. Their hungry gazes connected, even though his hair was falling messily down his face and saliva was running down his chin. "Kiss me," and as usual he obeyed, and their lips met again, as did their saliva and tongues. "What else do you want me to do?" She asked when they broke apart for lack of air.

"Fuck me, ride me," he begged, "please," he said as he pulled back from her and lay down on the bed.

He watched nervously but anxiously as she settled down on top of him and took hold of his cock to finally push it slowly inside her. Bob really wanted to see his cock disappear inside her, he had daydreamed about it many times, but the instant he felt its tip enter her wet entrance he had to throw his head back, whimpering and clutching at the mattress as if his life depended on it, clutching even tighter and panting with every inch he entered her.

"Are you okay my love?" She asked as she sat fully on top of him, not because of the weight but because of his condition. Bob's was a little big on her, and she was a little small on her, but it was bearable. She knew he could handle it, but she wanted to make sure.

"Yeah-" he moaned, loosening his grip on the mattress.

"Yeah," she said smirking, "you look very good..." she said as she scanned his muscular abdomen, the same one she'd longed to touch in the morning as she placed her hands on his lower half.

"Oh fuck-!" he moaned as he felt her start to move, and even if it was slow he gripped the mattress tightly again as she held the index finger of her dominant hand in front of her lips where she had a playful smile, meaning that it was better if the others didn't hear them. "Fuck- Sorry- But you feel- God-"

"Don't be sorry," she said still smiling in the same way, "I love to hear you like this," she said as she grabbed his hands and put them on her waist. "Touch me like you're creaming me again," and he obeyed trying to do his best while trying to stay sane and silent, watching in front of him her tits with his saliva traces and his hands sliding up and down and up and down, from her tits to her buttocks.

"Fuck- You feel so good-" he moaned, trying to keep it to a whisper. "Both inside and out... I-I don't think I'm going to last long..."

"Not yet honey, come on," she moaned, "you can do it, I know you can. Do it for me, okay?" she pouted as she wiggled. "Be a good boy and cum when I tell you to."

"P-Please..." he whimpered, tightening his grip on her buttocks. It was definitely going to leave marks, but she wouldn't complain and would wear every bruise and scratch like badges of honour.

"Wait, I assure you, it's better to cum at the same time."

Surprisingly he obeyed again. She thought that by picking up the pace he would cum instantly, but he endured it well, and clearly let him know it by saying that he was taking her very good. Luckily for him she didn't have long to go before she was at the same point as he was — it seemed like his cock was made for her, and to be honest, it was making her too hot to see how he was on the verge of tears as he felt so much pleasure thanks to her.

Hearing her moan his name between compliments as they made eye contact while bouncing on top of him was the last straw, literally. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, thinking it would stop the sobbing, the moaning, and above all the orgasm coming out of him, but it was no use. He didn't have time to warn her, but neither did she. The sensation of her wet walls pulsing around him, just as his cock throbbed inside her as he filled her was too much. Unconsciously, as he felt both his body and hers go into spasms he gripped her waist tightly again as when she was on top of his face.

There was no turning back now, she could proclaim his virginity and what was the best orgasm of his life. Although he knew it would feel better than using his hand he didn't imagine it would feel that good. He was thankful he was lying down, because he ended up exhausted (although he guessed correctly that he would soon recover all his energy, also thanks to the serum). And he wasn't the only one, but she still slowly rocked her hips back and forth, wanting to enjoy him until the last few seconds before she was separated from him.

"God," he sighed, "that was... wonderful," he said as he let go of her hips and she stood up, pulling away from him, "thank you so much. Uh- Did you have fun?" he said as he craned his neck to watch her, watching as she sat in the gap between his legs and let out his semen mingled with other fluids.

"Bob, I've cum twice," she said pointing to her entrance, and as he heard her answer and saw all that came out of her he blushed, but most of all he felt happy and proud of himself, "what do you think?" she asked smirking, a smile that infected him.

"I wanted to make sure," he answered as she approached him awkwardly, her knees giving out from riding him so much one way or the other.

"But you didn't cum when I told you to," she said as she dropped down beside him, laying on her side as she was at first.

"Did you? I think you were more busy cumming on my cock," he said as he got into the same position as her, and the instant she heard that she gasped and had to hold a laugh at the same time.

"How dare you...!?" she asked totally surprised. "I'll have to punish you for double," she said playing along.

"Whenever you want," he said, and they both leaned in for a kiss, short but sweet as their smiles relaxed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You already are."

He would take that as a "Yes".

"Um... Your letter is very romantic, and always but especially this weekend you've been very... attentive and affectionate with me," seeing where he was going the young woman's face became more serious, "and I was wondering if... you're in love with me, because sometimes I get that feeling but sometimes I also think I'm delusional..."

"What makes you doubt that? Apart from the obvious," she said referring to his low self-esteem due to his depression and traumas.

"I remember a few months ago I said I liked short skirts and soon you started wearing a lot of them, but it could also be because it was getting hot," he said smiling nervously but hopefully, and now he was the one who spread the smile to her.

"It was because of you," she laughed defeatedly, nodding slightly with her eyes closed. She could no longer escape or deny it, but after what they had done she felt hopeful and it wasn't a bad time to confess it once and for all. "It's all because of you, Bob," she said as she opened them, looking up at him with a tender gaze.

"You make me the happiest man in the world," he said grinning from ear to ear as he rose to get on top of her, kissing her face full of kisses as she giggled with a blush. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said as she laughed and placed her hands on his cheeks before kissing him again.

"I can't believe the candles' wish came true so fast," she said as she put her hands on his shoulders.

"Was it me?" she asked surprised but happy.

"Yeah, you — to have you all to myself once for all."

© trainer-from-unova / alicent burton | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

post credit scene:

"Hey, now that I think about it, what kinks do you have?" Bob asked when the room was quiet and dark after taking a cold shower, trying to sleep once and for all.

"Good night my love," she replied with a laugh.

[sturnioz]

‘THIS IS (NOT) EASY’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, fluff, angst

word count. 13.7k

❝being in this friends with benefits relationship with you was not as easy as i thought it would be...❞

content warnings. friends with benefits au, crack humour, explicit content, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, squirting, p in v, unprotected sex (creampies), big dick matt, doggy position, alcohol consumption and mentions of weed, flirty!chris,

—authors note. i've actually written this before but for a different person on another blog. so if you happen to stumble across that somehow and notice the similarities, its me lol. i just liked the plot so much and i wanted to use it for matt.

“Wait, you what?!”

You gasp out loud, not caring about the loudness of your tone, voice piercing throughout the library alongside the squeaking legs of your chair across the wooden flooring as you abruptly straight up in your seat. 

Other students with their heads shoved in books and laptop screens peek over in curiosity while one irritated classmate leans over the table to shush you angrily, warning you about the volume of your voice but you pay them no mind, gaze fixed on Matt who sits across from you sheepishly.

Matthew Sturniolo—one of the heartthrobs on campus, the quiet and mysterious type that turns curious heads, and undoubtedly the kindest guy in class has been your best friend for the past few years. You met during a practice hockey game where fourteen-year-old Matt had tried to score a goal to impress his brothers and newfound friends, only for the hockey puck to come flying over the glass barrier, hurling straight towards your face and leaving you with a swollen eyeball and a busted up nose.

Matt was unbelievably apologetic, going to extreme lengths by buying candies and ripping up flowers from potted plants to give to you whenever you both crossed paths, begging for your forgiveness over and over again desperately until you socked him in the face, giving him a hefty nosebleed and a bruised cheek in return. 

A toothy grin spread across your cheeks and you finally had accepted the gifts out of his hands, a happy ‘now we’re even!’ leaving your lips as you had ripped open the candies, offering him a treat, offering him your friendship.

The two of you became inseparable and if someone saw one of you, they knew that the other would be trailing along behind them. You were two peas in a pod—the dynamic duo. You were so joined at the hip that when you both enrolled for college, you tried signing up for a dorm on campus, wanting and hoping to be roommates. 

It didn’t happen.

Matt ended up rooming with one of his friends, Tyler, while you got stuck with some girl you didn’t even know but had become acquainted with over a short period of time. 

Still, you and Matt never strayed far from each other even with your roommates in the picture. He sleeps over at your place every now and then, and vice versa. You’re certain that he’s even claimed a whole drawer in your dresser, filled with his spare shirts, sweatpants and underwear.

A lot of your mutual friends, including his brothers, found it suspicious how you two could be so close without anything going on between you both, complaining how the two of you can’t be just friends. It was partially the truth.

You are not just friends, you’re best friends.

“I’m just saying, that you’re complaining about not hooking up with someone for a few days while I haven’t slept with someone for, like, a month,” Matt repeats to you with flushed cheeks, adjusting the black cap on his head with one hand while the other skilfully twirls a pen around his fingers, “Times are hard, kid. I got assignments up to my ass—”

“There’s no way you haven’t hooked up with someone lately,” You hiss through gritted teeth, refusing to believe a word that comes out of his mouth when he’s talking about such nonsense. 

A nearby student from the table next to yours shifts around in their seat in annoyance to look at you, pressing their finger aggressively against their lips to tell you to quiet down and you scoff in response, throwing them the middle finger with your own irritancy and annoyance.

“Can you not?” Matt scolds as his hand firmly wraps around your own, squeezing in warning as he guides it back down to the table. He offers an apologetic smile to the student, and as always, it works like a charm as they shyly smile back and resume their work. Another scoff leaves your lips and Matt turns his attention back to you. “I’m telling you the truth, you know.”

“Bullshit,” You murmur, sending him a glare. “That girl from my study group was over at your dorm last weekend—I saw her Snapchat stories.”

“Dude, we’re both in the same study group. She came over for some of my notes and ended up staying longer because Tyler offered her an ounce of his ‘premium weed’,” Matt explains, adding a sarcastic emphasis around the word ‘premium weed’ which has you snorting, knowing that there was nothing premium about Tyler’s stash. “She eventually ended up staying over and hooking up with Chris anyways.”

Your face contorts into a look of confusion at that, “What? Chris? He isn’t even your roommate.”

“I know. Tyler’s sheets are still in the dryer,” Matt grimaces. “But Nick has had this ‘sex-free’ policy on his and Chris’ dorm ever since that guy screwed him over last weekend.” 

“Oh…” You pause, amused at Nick’s new policy, but then the realisation finally hits you. “So that’s why Tyler didn’t have any sheets on his bed when I came over on Monday.”

“Y—wait, you came over Monday?” Matt snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as he jabs his pen in your direction. “Did you fuck in my bed?!”

“No. Of course not,” You gasp, deeply offended by his accusation and Matt lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing his shoulders as he leans back into his chair. “We actually fucked on the couch—”

“Are you fucking kidding me—”

“That’s besides the point!” You cut him off before he can grill you, silencing him by raising your hand in front of his face when he tries to retaliate again. “The fact remains, Matt, is that you haven’t fucked anyone in a whole month. And that’s like… I don’t know, it’s like blasphemy!”

Matt deadpans, his expression devoid of amusement. “I’m pretty sure that’s not blasphemy.”

“Whatever. You know what I mean,” You dismiss, shoving your books and pens as far away from you as you possibly could, no longer interested in studying the endless amount of words on that page now that you’ve discovered your best friend hasn't hooked up with anyone in so long. You sit comfortably in your chair as you fully give him your attention, tucking your legs beneath you. “I can’t believe it…”

“You’re telling me,” Matt huffs, deciding to set aside his own studies too. He rubs his face in frustration, groaning beneath his palms. You console him with a frown, reaching out to rub his shoulder in sympathy. Matt’s hands drop to his lap, and he shoots you a glare, “I can’t believe you didn’t believe me. Why would I lie about something like that?!”

You’re quick to defend yourself, “You fuck more than I do. Of course I'm not gonna believe a word you say when you tell me something like that!” 

And it’s true, Matt does have a higher number of sexual encounters compared to you. His boyish charm and adorable face doesn’t hide the fact that his body count is probably in the twenties, and that his online bank statements are likely to reveal the frequent purchases of packs of condoms (and maybe a few Plan B pills for extra precaution). Matt has always been cautious and responsible, which doesn’t surprise you. He’s not one to take unnecessary risks or potentially impregnate someone, especially a stranger.

“You didn’t have to say it out loud like that…” Matt mutters under his breath, cheeks dusting a slight shade of pink as another student turns around in their seat to glare at the pair of you, but her eyes widen comically as she sees Matt. Shyly, she tucks her hair behind her ears with a kind smile that Matt reciprocates. You lean back in your seat with a roll of your eyes just as Matt brings his attention back to you, “Are we done with this conversation? I’d rather talk about something more interesting than my nonexistent sex life.”

“Fine,” You relent. “Are you going to Nate’s later?”

“No, kid’s got some important hockey meeting or something, so we’re hanging another time,” Matt sighs softly, removing his cap to run his fingers through his hair before readjusting it. “Would you be cool if I came over yours?”

“Sure,” You grin, already shoving your belongings into your bag, eager to leave the library as soon as possible. Matt’s lip curls up in amusement as he follows in suit, packing his own things into his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

As you glance over, you notice the girl still staring at Matt and a mischievous smirk forms on your face as you slam your hand on the desk in front of her, capturing her attention.

You jab your thumb in Matt’s direction and you teasingly offer, “If you want his number. I can give it to you. He’s been stuck in a dry spell recently, so—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Matt’s fingers curl around your elbow, yanking you away from the bewildered girl with a huff, “Move.”

“I’ve been thinking about something…” You break the comfortable silence between you both after a few hours of binge-watching a series and indulging in takeout, dropping your pizza crust into the cardboard box and pushing it aside. Matt sits beside you on the couch, his own pizza in hand, gaze fixed on the TV screen, listening to what the characters are saying.

Matt glances at you with a quick, pointed look as he chews, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Wow. Funny.” You deadpan with a roll of your eyes and he chuckles under his breath, turning his attention back to the TV screen. “Anyway, and hear me out before you say some dumb shit. I’ve been thinking about something that relates to that little problem we both have, and I may have come up with a way to fix it.”

“Why are you still hung up on this?” Matt complains between mouthfuls. “I don’t want to be constantly reminded that I’m not having sex—”

You quickly raise your hand to hush him and he goes cross eyed to stare at your palm in confusion. “I said hear me out.”

“Fine.”

“Great!“ You exclaim with a grin, “Okay, so, you and I are the best of friends, right? We always help each other out and—”

“Where is this going?”

“Hear. Me. Out.” You warn once more, emphasising each word. Matt sighs, nodding his head for you to continue. “We always help each other out, correct? And there’s no awkwardness between us, which is what also makes us so close. Remember that time we had to make out in front of Jeremy so he would stop hitting on me? And that time I pretended to be your girlfriend so Gracie would get the hint that you didn’t want to sleep with her anymore?”

“Well, yeah, but that didn’t exactly work out because we ended up hooking up with them a few days after it happened—”

“That’s not the point,” You say as you frustratingly rub at your temples. “The point is that we always help each other, no matter what the situation is, because we’re best friends. So, as best friends, I think we should help each other out with our little situation.”

“And how can we help each other out?”

“By fucking each other.”

The second those words leave your mouth, Matt chokes on his food, banging his fist against his chest as he coughs, his eyes watering and face turning red. The sight of his reaction has you cackling, wishing you had your phone nearby to take a picture.

After a few moments, Matt manages to regain his breath, reaching down to grab his bottle of water from the side of the couch and gulping it down almost immediately.

You click your tongue against your teeth, a playful smirk on your face. “That was a little dramatic.”

“And you’re crazy,” Matt shoots back, water droplets trickling down his chin as he looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you realise what you just said?”

You nod your head, “Perfectly.”

“We are not fucking. It’ll be weird,” Matt says, you instantly find offence to that, your jaw dropping in disbelief. Matt rolls his eyes at your reaction. “We’re best friends. Best friends don’t do that type of shit—Stop looking at me like that!”

You huff, turning your head away from him childishly. “I’m just trying to help us out. I don’t think it’ll be weird… people have done weirder.”

“Are you aware of how many friendships have been ruined because they fucked?” Matt questions you and you take a moment to ponder, wincing as you can easily name a few from the top of your head. “Exactly. As much as I find you attractive, I’m not going to ruin our friendship. We’ve been best friends for too long.”

Your head slowly turns back to Matt, who’s already looking at you. A grin spreads across your face as you flirtatiously bat your eyelashes at him, “You think I’m attractive?”

“My god, you’ve un-fucking-believable, I swear…” Matt trails off, muttering under his breath as he rubs at his forehead in frustration. You beam at the thought of getting under his skin, but eventually you roll your eyes and reach over to press your foot into his side, playfully nudging him to bring his attention back to you. 

Matt looks over at you with a deadpan expression and you continue to grin at him, tilting your head to the side as you admire the view.

Truthfully, you’ve always found Matt attractive even if it was in a friendly way and you’d be lying if you said that hooking up with him has never crossed your mind, but that’s mainly because you’re nosy and want to see what all the fuss is about when you constantly hear the girls fawn about what he’s like in bed.

Some say he’s extremely giving, tending to their needs in all ways possible. Some also say he’s demanding and rough, one hand curled into their hair as he’s fucking them from behind, spitting out degrading words into their ears. But you’ve also heard that he sometimes comes across as needy and desperate, begging for his cock to be sucked and to be made a mess out of.

It piques your interest a lot… maybe it’s wrong of you to think that way about someone you know so well, but you’re human after all, sometimes you can’t help the way you think about certain people.

“Look,” You speak up first, letting out a sigh. “What I said was just a suggestion, okay? If you don’t want to do it, then that’s fine—”

“How do you know that it won’t ruin our friendship?” Matt cuts you off and your eyebrows raise in surprise at the question. “We’ve been best friends for, like, six years or something right? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to throw that all away because we messed up and decided to fuck each other just because we’re ‘sex deprived’.”

“We’re not going to get into anything super serious,” You reassure him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure, we’re probably going to end up in some type of friends with benefits situation, but we’re not going to include any of that official or exclusive title bullshit. We just hook up for a release when we can’t find it anywhere else, it’s as simple as that. No complications.”

“So…” Matt purses his lips in deep thought. “We can still fuck other people?”

You scoff, “Of course. You think I’d drop Tyler for you that easily?”

“Fuck you.”

Your lips curl into a smirk, “I’m hoping you would.”

Matt stares at you for a brief moment before chuckling, shaking his head as his tongue prods at his cheek. The little action spurs something within you but you remain seated, wanting Matt to be the one to make the first move if he was game in fucking you to help relieve the stress you’re both feeling… maybe Matt a little more considering that you fucked Tyler a few days prior, but you were desperate to be filled again. 

You watch Matt sit in silence for a moment, seemingly deep in his thoughts as his eyebrows knit together, thinking about the pros and cons. His hands come up to pull the cap off of his head completely, his hair messily falling in front of his eyes and your thighs press together as the thought of seeing it between your legs with your fingers threading through the locks. 

You internally laugh at how deluded you sound.

“What time does your roommate get back tonight?” Matt questions you, his low tone bringing you out of your own thoughts and your body buzzes with excitement, fumbling as you reach over to snag your phone off the coffee table to check the time, informing him that she won’t be home for another three hours. “Alright. Good to know.”

“So?” You press, dropping your phone back down as you look at him expectedly. “What’s it going to be?”

Matt takes a deep breath, “No titles.”

“None at all.”

“We can still fuck whoever we want.”

“Whoever, whenever.”

“And most importantly…” Matt pauses with a deep sigh, leaning over the couch closer to you and he holds up his hand, his pinkie outstretched. “We’re still best friends.”

“It’ll be like nothing ever changed.” You promise softly with a smile, curling your pinky finger around his own, squeezing it tightly to keep your promise.

It’s silent between you both for a while, and you can clearly see the cogs turning inside Matt’s head as he thinks about his next move, yet you’re the one that decides to take that initiative.

You rip your hand away from his to throw your arms around his shoulders, fingers buried into his locks as you drag him towards you to eagerly plant your lips on his. You’re surprised at how fast Matt responds to the kiss as his hands come up to cup your cheeks, tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

The plenty drunken kisses you’ve shared with Matt to help each other out of sticky situations is nothing like the kiss you’re experiencing right now, and it catches you extremely off guard. You were expecting him to allow you to take control of what was happening and lead him through it considering you were the one to bring it up, but with the way Matt’s pushing you backwards to lay you down on the couch and crawling between your open legs with his lips still attached to yours, you’re stumped. 

“Wait,” You stop him, pressing your palm against his chest to push him back and Matt moves away with raw, wet lips, his fingers hovering above the waistband of your shorts. “Why are we doing this on the couch? I have a bed we can use.”

Matt glares down at you, “That didn’t stop you and Tyler from fucking on my couch.”

“Actually, there were no sheets on Tyler’s bed, so—”

“Think of this as payback,” Matt smiles at you sweetly and you snarl, knocking your leg against his side with force and he laughs through clenched teeth, “Besides, you’ve probably fucked a lot of people on this couch… Do you really care?”

You blink up at him. “Are you implying that I’m a slut?”

Matt shrugs, “Maybe, yeah.”

“That’s so hot of you.”

Matt chuckles and leans down to reconnect your lips, fingers unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your underwear, carelessly throwing them somewhere to the side and you hiss at the cold air that hits, yearning for warmth.

Matt’s lips trail down your throat and to the collar of your shirt, nipping and sucking at your skin, heading south to where your thighs shake in anticipation. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you watch him shuffling down to lay between your legs, hands pushing against your knees to spread you further apart, the coldness of his rings prickling at your skin.

Your own hand reaches down to thread your fingers through his hair, trying to tug him closer but he barely budges, gazing up at you with his brows knit together.

You whine, “Hurry.”

“Are you always this impatient?”

“Of course,” You look at him like he’s stupid. “We’re both doing this for a reason and it’s to cum, not to take our sweet little time and—Oh shit…”

“Fucking yapping. You talk too much.” Matt drags his tongue through your folds, the pink muscle swirling over your clit and your body jerks in shock at the sensation, a gasp fleeting past your lips as your grip on his hair tightens, feeling his tongue wiggle between your folds and licking upwards to flick over your clit before his fingers tease at your entrance.

Your body goes slack against the couch cushions, mouth stuck open as he eases two digits inside the warmth of your pussy, curling his fingers upwards as his lips wrap around your sensitive clit and you whine, tugging at his hair a little harder which causes him to groan, the vibrations causing goosebumps to shoot up your spine.

You’re in shock at how well Matt actually uses his tongue and fingers. Of course you’ve heard stories from your girl friends and even Matt himself, but you didn’t expect him to be this good and it completely catches you off track, unable to control the noises that rip from the back of your throat when he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt while using his tongue to work wonders on your clit.

“Matt,” You whisper his name with a moan, thighs twitching and closing in around his head. You feel him smirk against your pussy and you squeeze your thighs in warning. “Stop it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?” He asks, his tone a little condescending as he raises his head, mouth glistening with your arousal. His fingers continue hitting that spot that has your toes curling and back arching against the cushions. “You can cum, if you want.”

“You’re so fucking cocky,” You tut, fighting the urge to smile but you amusement ends up slipping away and is overcome b y pleasure as he pumps his fingers a few more times, the tightening band in your stomach snapping as you cum all over his fingers, gasping through high pitched whines and trying to control the convulsing movement of your body.

“That’s it,” Matt hums, pressing a quick kiss to your pussy. “Good job.”

You choke out your words, unable to come up with a full sentence as your hand falls limp onto his shoulder, fingers twitching over the material as you breathe heavily. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Me eating you out,” He answers matter-of-factly, a hint of smugness in his tone as he pops his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. Your mouth drops in shock at the action and he meets your gaze, “You good?”

“Yeah… good.” You nod dumbly, completely astonished at how nonchalant Matt is acting as you watch him tug his sweatpants and boxers down his legs awkwardly when he sits up, eyes automatically zoning in on his cock that slaps against his stomach once freed from its confinements. 

Honestly, you have seen Matt naked. He’s comfortable with stripping in front of you and changing without any thought. But… you’ve never seen Matt hard, and the sight alone is enough to have your mouth watering.

Your best friend is huge.

“Okay,” Matt mumbles to himself, crawling forward and hooking his hands under the back of your knees to pull you closer to him, his thumbs caressing your skin. “Are you sure you’re ready? You know there’s no turning back from this, right?”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” You grin as you wiggle against him excitedly. “Give me what you got, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” Matt clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head as he slowly eases his cock into you. Slowly, your eyes start to widen at the stretch, the burn obvious in your core and thighs, and your hand flies down to his in hopes to slow down his movements despite him going as slow as he possibly can.

You try to breathe steadily through your nose, lips pressed together tightly as your wince at the uncomfortable ache that spreads, your pussy clamping down on him as if you were trying to prevent him from pushing any further.

“Ow.” You whisper, twisting your hips to try and get comfortable and relax but you wince at each movement you make, causing Matt to raise his gaze from where you’re connected to look into your eyes, his own pooling with concern.

“Are you okay?”

You hum with a curt nod of your head, “Nothing of that significant size has been up there before, you know? I’m just… feeling uncomfortable, that’s all.”

Matt’s lips curl into a grin, “You calling my dick big?”

You send him a hardened glare, “Not as big as your fucking head.”

Matt laughs loudly and he lays his hand flat across your lower stomach as he adjusts himself between your legs, head ducking down slightly to watch himself slowly push into you once more, but the second your legs tense up, he sighs apologetically and strokes your stomach, sliding his cock out of you and you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, looking at him with a pout.

“Give me a second, okay?” Matt orders you, gently grabbing your waist to help turn you around on all fours. The brows pinch together at the new position, but your body seems to relax when you feel his hands slide around your back and press down tightly, arching it to hold you in place as you feel his cock at your entrance once more. “This should feel better. But tell me if it hurts? I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Just—” You grit your teeth together. “Just fuck me, Matt.”

“You got it.” Matt whispers as he pushes himself back into you again at a slower pace and you gasp, your fingers gripping the arm of the couch, head dropping low to rest on the cushions as you try to control your breathing. The new position was definitely better than the last, but you can still feel him stretch you out to fit you around his cock. “Is my dick really that big?”

“Are you asking because you’re concerned or because you want me to boost your ego?”

Matt smiles, “Maybe both.”

You don’t even get the chance to retaliate with your own snarky comment as Matt fills you up completely, hips pressing to your ass and cry out at how full you’re feeling, unable to think properly as he pulls back, leaving the tip nestled in your cunt before thrusting back in.

Matt curses loudly behind you, fingers digging into your ski as he rocks his hips into you, his thrusts sending your body jerking forwards. You squeeze around his cock and he grunts, changing his pace and you can’t help but fuck youtself back onto him, whining and panting at the pleasure that swirls in the pit of your tummy. 

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin is enough to have your eyes rolling back in pleasure, driving you even closer to the edge along with his rapid thrusts and continuous cursing. You’re positive you can even hear him praise you a little bit, muttering about how tight your pussy is. 

You would’ve never guessed he was into such dirty talk. Matt continues to amaze you.

Your pussy clamps around his cock when you feel his hand sneak beneath your body to reach between your thighs, the pads of his fingers rubbing diligent circles on your clit and you mewl, your own hand coming down to latch around his wrist.

“Shit,” You slur your words, drool seeping past the corner of your lips. “So good—fuck, Matt, don’t stop—s’good.”

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna stop.” Matt chuckles behind you and you can feel the tears build up in your waterline as Matt leans over your body, holding himself up with one hand on the arm of the couch, his other still rubbing circles on your clit. You gasp as how deep he’s nestled within you and it has you seeing stars, your toes curling and your body tensing up as his cock fucks into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot over and over before your second orgasm of the night hits you violently. 

Your screams are muffled by the cushions, walls pulsating around his cock as you cum, struggling to hold up your own weight as your body falls limp on the couch. Pleasure buzzes through your veins and it sends you mind whirling as Matt fucks you through it to reach his own high, moving his hand from your clit to rest on your lower back, arching your ass up to fuck you deeper.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He pants heavily, thumb stroking the bottom of your spine. “Fuck—tell me where I can cum.”

“Anywhere you want.” You slur your words, craning your head to the side to look at him, capturing how his eyes widen slightly.

“Anywhere?” Matt repeats as he slows down his movements and you nod your head, only to yelp in shock when he pulls out of you completely and flips your body around once more. You stare at him in surprise as he crawls up your body, resting a hand on your cheek and pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. “Here?”

You don’t give him a verbal answer, instead you open wide, welcoming him and Matt grins, pushing the head of his cock into your mouth and sighing as your lips close around him, suckling on his tip as he cums in long spurts down your throat, brows knitting together in pleasure and moaning softly as your tongue presses against his slit, swallowing everything he gives you. 

There’s a comfortable silence as Matt removes himself from above you, choosing to drop down in the limited space between your body and the couch, running his fingers through his sweaty hair as he tries to catch his breath.

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened, staring between Matt’s naked lower half and yours before you abruptly sit up, rolling onto your knees that pop as you stare down at him incredulously. 

“Matt!” You screech, punching his shoulder with such force that has him wincing. 

“Ow!” He hisses, rubbing the area. “Why—”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were that good?” You immediately cut him off, not allowing him to finish as you shake your head quickly. “We should’ve done this ages ago!”

Matt rolls his eyes in annoyance despite the grin that spreads across his cheeks as he throws his arm over his face, “Shut up.”

“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” Nick pauses to chew and swallow his sandwich, pointing between you and Matt on the opposite side of the table. “You two decided to hook up last night because neither of you have hooked up with anyone in a long time, and now you’ve made some sort of deal that when you can’t find release somewhere else, you’ll go to each other?”

“Yeah.”

“What the actual fuck?!” Nick exclaims, looking at you both as if you’ve grown an extra head before abruptly turning to Chris and Tyler who are sitting beside each other silently, watching everything unfold. “Why are you guys saying anything?!”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Chris shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before he turns his attention to you, furrowing his eyebrows. “Although, I am kind of offended you didn’t ask me to fuck you.”

You grimace, “It makes me queasy thinking about where your dick has been, if I’m honest.”

“When was the last time you got tested?” Matt teases his younger triplet, a slight smirk curling at the ends of his lips as he leans back into his chair, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he manspreads. Chris rolls his eyes and retaliates by throwing him the middle finger.

“And you’re okay with this?” Nick questions Tyler who slowly nods his head as he rolls a blunt beneath the table, lips pursed in concentration. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tyler questions back, lifting his gaze to Nick and raising a brow before looking back down to his lap. “We just fuck, that’s it. And besides, sometimes I get so faded that I can’t even get my dick up. She needs good dick and I can’t give it to her when I’m that out of it.”

You gasp in awe, reaching across the table to grip his arm. “You are so thoughtful!”

“So I’m the only sane fucking person that thinks this is a stupid idea?” Nick shakes his head in disbelief, biting into his sandwich with a deep sigh. His eyes suddenly widen, a piece of lettuce hanging from his mouth as he erratically pats his pockets. “Where’s Nate? Somebody text Nate right now.”

“Please, you know damn well Nate isn’t going to give a shit,” Chris cackles with a grin, adjusting the beanie on his head. “Pretty sure he fucked his girl best friend last year.”

“Yeah? And where is she now?” Nick looks at all of you expectedly for an answer and you frown, sinking into your seat with your arms crossed over your chest. “Exactly.”

“Come on, kid, it’s not like that…” Matt tries to explain. “We talked about it. We’re not doing any of that exclusive or official title stuff. We’re not making it weird.”

“Meaning we can still hook up with whoever we want.” You add on, eyes flickering over to Tyler and you give him a pretty smile, only for him to look back at you with a smirk and give you a flirtatious wink.

“So, what I’m hearing is,” Chris pauses, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he bats his eyelashes at you. “There’s still a chance for me?”

Nick immediately plugs his ears as he repeatedly mumbles, “I don’t not want to hear this. Stop it immediately. I hate it.”

“Hate what?” Nate’s voice interrupts from behind and you whiz around in your seat, grinning widely as you see Nate approaching your table with his hockey jersey in one hand and his books in the other. 

He greets you all with a smile, placing his belongings down on the table before grabbing an empty chair from another, the metal legs scraping across the floor as he drags it to place beside Matt, slapping his hand down on Matt’s shoulder in greeting as he sits down. 

“What are you talking about anyway?”

“They hooked up,” Nick immediately jumps straight into it as he points at the two of you and you sigh, throwing your head back in frustration. Matt laughs beside you. “And they’re going to continue to hook up whenever they don’t have anyone else to go to, so—”

“Oh, nice man.”

Nick stares at Nate, “No. Not nice. Not nice at all,” Nick shakes his head. “You’re all helpless. Dumb and helpless, every single one of you.”

Nate pulls a face, “I mean, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be—”

“That’s what I said~” Chris sings.

“And besides, they’re grown adults. They can do whatever they want.” Nate’s words make your brows raise with little surprise, watching as he flips open his book and grabs the pen that rests behind his ear, biting the cap off with his teeth before looking at you. “I’m surprised it took you both this look to actually hook-up… I thought it would’ve happened months ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just means I thought you two would’ve fucked months ago.” Nate smiles and shrugs his shoulders innocently, blowing the cap out of his mouth and watching it with his hand before he begins to scribble on the pages. You roll your eyes, glancing over at Matt who shrugs his own shoulders, not fully understanding the meaning of Nate’s words but chooses not to dwell on it any longer as he reaches for his drink, sipping through the straw as he gives his attention to Chris who angles his phone in his direction to show him something you could barely see. 

Nick shakes his head, still in disbelief as he shoves the last remaining bite of his sandwich into his mouth before grabbing his book out of his backpack to take notes alongside Nate. He then comically raises his head up to point his pen at you and Matt.

“Also, just to let you know, I don’t want to hear any complaining from either of you when this whole situationship bullshit ends up going to literal shit,” Nick warns before he slowly turns to the pen to point to himself, “Because I will laugh in your face and simply say, ‘I told you so’.”

A scoff leaves your lips as Matt speaks, “Relax, kid. Everything is going to be fine. Plus, this whole thing could just be a one time thing… It might not even happen again,” Matt turns to look at you. “Right?”

A smile finds its way onto your face as you lean your elbows on the table, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you give him an affirmative nod. “Right.”

“Fuck, Matt.” You moan out his name repeatedly, back arching off your bed, gripping the pillows resting behind your head with your mouth wide open. Matt’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy, squirting over his hand and splashing onto the bed sheets below you. 

He laughs as you shove your face into the crook of your arm, body trembling and breathing whines slipping past your lips from the overwhelming sensation of him fucking you with his fingers.

Your legs clamp shut around his hand but he’s already prying you back open with the other, holding them down to the bed as his fingers curl upwards, almost bringing you to tears at the pleasure in the pit of your tummy. 

“There we go…” Matt hums softly, milking you for every drop you can give. You quiver and gasp when Matt comes to a stop, the grin on his face evident as he pulls his fingers from your cunt and you whine, struggling to raise your foot and kick him in his side. He captures your ankle in his grasp, drawing circles with his fingertips. “You good?”

“You good?” You mock him, tone nasally. Your arms flop to your side as you take a deep breath, ignoring the way Matt’s laughing at you. “That was intense… I felt like I was going crazy.”

“Thank you,” Matt grins, eyes twinkling as he slips off your bed. “Your need to change your sheets though.”

“Wow. So gentlemanly of you to offer to help.” You mutter sarcastically under your breath, clicking your tongue against your teeth. You stand up from the bed and your knees buckle beneath you, causing you to panic and immediately reach out and grab onto a surface to steady yourself, throwing the middle finger up in Matt’s direction when he chuckles. 

He tells you to go shower while he takes care of the sheets and you immediately oblige, patting his arm in a quick thanks as you wobble out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, eager to clear yourself up after previous activities. 

You take longer than usual to shower, taking your time to scrub your body clean and even wash your hair, not even caring about what Matt could be doing inside your home as he waits for you, but you pause your routine when you actually begin to think about your relationship with Matt. 

It’s been almost three weeks since you started hooking up with Matt, showing up at each other's places whenever you’re in need of sex, getting it over and done with before hanging out properly, before even getting a bite to eat or binge watching a series. 

You still sleep with Tyler. You’ve even fucked Tyler and Matt on the same day. Matt doesn’t care, of course he doesn’t, and personally neither do you. But there have been a few moments where you start to recall the amount of times you had chosen Matt over Tyler… and it was a lot. 

You and Matt are supposed to fuck whenever you have no one else to go to. And yet, give the choice… you still chose Matt. 

A loud call of your name and a fist banging against the bathroom door startles you out of your thoughts, “I need to piss. Hurry up!”

“Just come in!” You yell back at him, frowning as you face the stream of water to let the soap run off your body as you mumble, “It’s not like you haven’t barged in before.”

You hear the door creak open behind the shower curtain and you poke your head around just in time for Matt to unzip his pants to relieve himself, his head tilting back with a sigh of relief. 

His eyes meet yours when he turns his head and his brows knit together, giving you an odd look. “What?”

“Can I ask you a question?” He blinks before giving you a quick nod. “Are you still fucking other people?”

“Yeah,” That answer relieves you a bit. “I was with Sadie last weekend.”

“I have another question.”

“Why are you—”

“I’m asking the questions,” You cut him off and Matt laughs, nodding for you to continue as he zips up his pants and washes his hands. “Has Sadie, or any other girl, been available on the same day that I’ve been available? Or asked you to come over?”

“Uh…” Matt ponders for a moment, bottom lip poking out his deep thought as he dries his hands on a towel. “Yeah, I think so.”

“And who did you end up choosing?”

“You.”

It shocks you at how fast he answers your question and you grip the shower curtain for support, the slippery floor of the shower almost making you tumblr. He chose you too… is that wrong? You’re uncertain and it makes you feel a little uneasy. Surely there must be a reasonable explanation to why you choose each other instead of fucking other available people.

“Why are you asking me that anyway?”

“Curious,” You answer quickly as you close the curtain to block him out and continue showering, ignoring the way he’s mumbling under his breath how strange you are. “Wait. I have another question.”

“Ask me when you’re down showering.”

“Why?” The tone of your voice turns sultry as you smirk, “Is knowing I’m naked behind this shower curtain turning you on?”

Matt doesn’t answer. Instead, his arm shoots out from behind the curtain, hand curling around the faucet tap to turn the temperature of the water, laughing like a maniac as he hears you scream from the cold water that splashes your skin.

You hated birthdays.

Actually, you hated your birthday. 

You hated knowing you’re getting older each year, desperately wanting to go back to the ages where all you worried about was not making a fool of yourself in front of someone you had a crush on, or not knowing the biggest high school gossip about who was seeing who behind whoever’s back.

Now, at your growing age, all you worry about is failing college and not being able to get a good enough job to provide a future for yourself.

You wish nobody knew it was your birthday, but having such a close group of groups who knew you better than you knew yourself, it wasn’t going to be easy, and you almost spun around and darted out of campus when you saw Chris twirling a gift bag in hand with helium balloons that spelt out ‘birthday girl!’ in big, bold letters tied to his wrist. 

“There she is!”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up.

“Happy birthday!” Chris yells loudly when you reach their circle, letting your backpack drop to the grass beside Tyler who looks up at you with a dopey smile. Chris shoves the gift bag into your hands when you finally sit down, huffing at the weight of the bag. “I bought you something.”

“I told him not to, I promise,” Nick tells you as he applies chapstick before he leans in close, “But as always, Chris doesn’t fucking listen.”

“And I never will,” Chris grins, untying the strip of balloons from around his wrist to tie them around your own, ignoring the dark glare you give him as he smiles at you cheekily. “Look inside. It’s all the essentials you need.”

“I swear to god, if you—”

“Shh,” He pressed his finger against your lips. “Less talking, more looking.”

You roll your eyes, swatting his finger away from your face before peering into the bag. A soft, genuine laugh leaves your lips when you first see two bottles of your favourite alcoholic beverage and a few chocolates, but you immediately cease all laughter and amusement when you see a pack of condoms and a Plan B box sandwiched between the pair. 

Tyler peeks over your shoulder to drop a pre-rolled joint and a few gummies into the bag for later, but makes a funny noise when he sees the condom pack. He dips his hand inside the bag to pull it out, throwing it back at Chris who fumbles to catch it.

“Hey—”

“She doesn’t use condoms.”

Chris gapes, slowly turning his head towards you with widened eyes. He leans forward, nose brushing against yours as he speaks, “Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me?”

Nick yells and covers his ears, threatening to punch his youngest sibling in the throat as Nate and Tyler snort.

“Positive,” You giggle and pat his cheek, causing him to whine and slump back into his own space in defeat. “I’m thankful for the gifts, but please… you know I hate celebrating my birthday. And were the balloons really necessary too? Did you have to make it more obvious?”

Chris frowns, tugging at the string. “But the balloons are pretty.”

“She doesn’t like balloons, kid.”

Your head whizzes around so quickly you’re positive you could hear it crack at the speed, a grin spreading across your cheeks when you see Matt standing behind you looking at your balloons in disgust. But your eyebrows raise in surprise when you see Sadie standing beside him.

You greet her with a wave and she reciprocates, wishing you a quiet happy birthday which you thank her for and motioning for them both to join you in your circle, but Sadie shakes her head with an apology, announcing that she has to be somewhere else.

You watch as she places her hand on Matt’s bicep, asking if they can meet up later but Matt shakes his head, telling her that he already has plans and her face deflates for a moment before nodding, bidding him and the rest of you a goodbye before leaving. 

Matt lets out a huff as he drops down to the grass, stretching out his legs and knocking his foot against yours, mouthing you a quick happy birthday and you smile in gratitude. 

“Sadie seems to be hanging out with you a lot recently,” Nate points out and Nick nods his head in agreement. “You like her?”

Matt shakes his head, “No. She was just asking me if I wanted to do something this weekend.”

“Are you?”

“No,” Matt mindlessly starts plucking the glass, avoiding everyone's eyes as they zone in on him. “I don’t have the time. Got some assignments to finish for my classes.”

Hearing him say that he hasn’t got the time sparks interest in you, and you begin to wonder if Matt would end up asking you for some well needed release. It excites you, especially when you realise you haven’t been under him or on top of him in a few days and you press your thighs together at the thought of possibly getting dicked down sooner rather than later. 

It’s a birthday gift, you say to yourself when you try to give an excuse to why you’re so needy to be fucked by Matt. It’s just a birthday gift… yet, you have Tyler right beside you, someone who’s easily available and someone who used to be frequent in giving you the best birthday sex of your life.

You could ask Tyler to come over tonight, but why wasn’t the question being asked? Why does it feel like you’re stopping yourself from asking something so simple and easy?

Perhaps you’re so used to sleeping around with Matt that it doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone else anymore. Tyler doesn’t seem bothered, maybe because he’s been getting his fix elsewhere too, so why does it bother you?

A quiet call of your name brings you out of your thoughts and you turn your head towards the source, gazing landing on Matt who is looking back at you with a kind smile. 

He shuffles further into the circle to get closer to you, voice dipping low. “Come home with me later? I have something for you.”

“What is it?” You instantly ask back, excitement evident in your tone. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of celebrating your birthday and receiving gifts, there was no doubt in your mind that Matt was probably one of the best people to receive gifts from, knowing he usually goes above and beyond to give you the most memorable birthday. 

You smile when you remember the three-day spa voucher he gave you last year when he and his brothers had taken you away for the weekend, it was the most breathtaking cabin you had ever been to. The sunset above the lake was still photographed in your memory, so was the midnight drive he took you on when Chris and Nick were sleeping.

The sights were beautiful, and you were grateful to have seen it with your best friend.

“You’ll find out.” Matt tells you with a smile, refusing to give you a hint of any sort as he turns his attention to Nick to engage in a conversation. You pout, shoulders slumping in defeat and Chris knocks his arm against yours, voice teasing as he whispers in your ear;

“Looks like my gifts will come in handy after all—OW!”

“This is actually fucking ridiculous.” You giggle as you’re blindingly walking into Matt’s dorm, his hands covering your eyes to prevent you from seeing even though you’ve tried countless times to peek through the gaps between his fingers.

Matt’s chest rumbles against your back as he laughs, waiting for you to toe off your shoes at the entrance before leading you further into the room.

You have the layout completely mapped out in your head from the amount of times you’ve been at his place, already knowing that he’s leading you into the kitchen just by the cold marbling that you feel beneath your feet. 

You almost trip as Matt shoves you down onto a chair and whispers a countdown in your ears before he removes his hands from your face. Your vision is blurry for a moment and you try to adjust to your surroundings with a few blinks, jaw dropping in complete awe as the splotches begin to disperse and you see what’s presented in front of you.

“Are you kidding me?” You whisper softly in astonishment at the gifts that are laid out across the table. You spot a few of your favourite scented candles stacked on top of each other, a bottle of perfume that you were one hundred percent certain that was sitting in your wishlist on an online store you were browsing a few days prior, and a miniature bag with the logo of your favourite jewellery store. 

You feel extremely overwhelmed, the urge to cry becoming harder to keep at bay as your eyes water and string, throat tightening over how thoughtful Matt had been. 

You turn your head towards him with your bottom lip quivering and Matt snickers, pulling a party hat from god knows where and advancing closer to you.

“You asshole…” You insult jokingly, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe at your eyes, hoping that the tears wouldn’t dare fall as Matt secures the hat on top of your head. You point to it, “Isn’t this a little cheesy?”

Matt rolls his eyes, snapping the elastic band against your chin for extra measure and you hiss at the slight sting it causes, punching his arm in retaliation but he pays no mind, smiling to himself as he turns his back to you for a moment to open the refrigerator door, pulling out a white squared box.

He balances it on the palm of his hand with ease, using his foot to kick the door shut as he makes his way back to you. 

You’re grinning widely at the thought of what could be inside the box, even though you’ve already guessed it’s a cake. Your hands rub together excitingly as Matt places it on the counter and gently slides it over to you, the box still in his grasp as it stops in front of you, drumming his fingers on the cardboard. 

Sensing your eagerness, Matt lifts the lid off of the box and the excitement on your face drops almost instantly, expressionless as you peek inside to see the miniature spongebob themed cake staring back at you.

You raise your head to see Matt already grinning at you, tongue poking at his cheek as he opens up a drawer to retrieve two plastic forks, twiddling them between his fingers.

You deadpan, “Are you sure we’re not celebrating your birthday right now?”

“Be quiet, you like spongebob just as much as I do,” Matt scoffs as he hands over one of the plastic forks and you take it with a smile. You go to cut out a piece for yourself but freeze when Matt makes a weird noise, gazing up at him in alarm. “Wait. Hold on—my god—let me take a photo first.”

You roll your eyes but happily oblige as Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and angles it towards you. You pose, pointing to the cake with a wide smile, almost blinded by the flash when Matt takes the picture and you immediately rub at your eyes, trying to get rid of the blotches while spitting a few creative curse words that make him giggle.

He quickly takes the opportunity of you being blinded to slide beside you, holding his phone high to take a selfie and you poke out your tongue, using your free hand to cup Matt’s cheeks while he rests his on top of your head. 

Before you have the chance to complain about how hungry you are, you gasp in shock when you feel the coldness of the cake’s frosting rubbed on your cheek and the shutter of the camera goes off when Matt takes another photo, capturing you mid chaos as you dig your fingers into the side of the cake to smush a piece against his own cheek, grinning evilly as the yellow frosting covers his skin. 

“Alright, alright. I deserved that,” Matt sighs with a lighthearted laugh, making sure his phone is tucked away and out of the icing zone. “Makes a good blackmail photo though, don’t you think?”

“If that goes anywhere, I will kill you.”

“You already know that’s going on my Instagram, sweetheart.” Matt teases you and you scoff jokingly, shaking your head as you reach for the napkins that are laying conveniently at the side, trying your best to wipe away the frosting before it drops and stains your clothing. 

Matt manages to clean himself up pretty easily and decides to help you out when he notices you struggling, plucking a spare napkin from the pile and he takes a hold of your jaw, facing your towards him as he gently wipes at your cheek, careful not to rub too hard at your skin. 

You’re suddenly awkward of the close proximity and you grow silent, watching as you cleans you up diligently. The concentrated look on his face is what causes your stomach to whirl and heart bloom with warmth, his eyebrows furrowed and gaze zoned in on the area he needs to clean, tongue licking over his bottom lip.

“Matt…” You call out his name quietly to grab his attention and he pauses, staring right at you. He seems to slowly take notice of how close you both are, taking in the limited space between you both and he goes to remove his hand away from your face but stops himself short with a noise, bringing his hand back to finish the job.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Matt whispers to you once he finally wipes away the frosting from your cheeks, smiling down at you with adoration swirling in his eyes and your breathing gets caught at the back of your throat for a moment at the sudden affectionate gaze, unsure of what to say or even what to do with him looking at you the way he is.

Your hands move up to take the birthday hat off of your head, dropping it to the side carelessly as your arms curl around his shoulders, pulling him into your embrace. Matt’s arms slide around your waist, holding you close to his chest as he hugs you back, burying his face in the crevice of your neck and exhaling deeply.

“I’m so thankful,” You admit, squeezing him tight as the emotions within you struggle to be contained. “For real, Matt. I’m really grateful too… thank you for making this birthday special again.”

“It’s not over yet, you know…” Your hear him mutter in your ear and you go to pull back, to question him on what more he could possibly give to top everything else he’s down for today but he’s already bending his knees, arms falling low to lock around your thighs and throwing you over his shoulder with a huff, smacking his hand roughly against your ass as he carries your giggly self to the bedroom. 

Friday nights will always be your favourite nights to let loose and party.

Dressing up in your prettiest outfit that makes you feel confident and sexy, decorating your body with the shiniest of jewellery you own and drinking the most intoxicated drink you could find while mingling with your friends.

Talking with your girls face to face after a week of classes had unfailingly lifted your mood, catching up with all the gossip you missed or only briefly discussed over the phone, finally adding your own two cents into situations which they eagerly agree with a nod of their heads, tapping their cups to yours before taking a sip. 

“Speaking of unusual relationships,” Sarah, one of your dearest friends, turns to look at you with a grin, “How's it going with you and Matt? Have things turned awkward yet?”

“Nope,” You shake your head, buzzing happily. “We’re fine. The whole ‘hooking up with your best friend’ culture isn’t as complicated as everyone makes it out to be. Everyone gets dramatic about it for no reason.”

Kendall lets out a heavy sigh, nursing her drink in her hand, “I don’t know how you do it. I can’t even imagine hooking up with Isaac. I mean, he’s attractive, but we’ve seen and know too much about each other to get physical on an intimate level… props to you.”

Anna shifts her gaze to you next, “Do you still fuck Tyler?”

“On occasion,” You admit. “But honestly, I’ve been so wrapped up in assignments—”

“And Matt.”

You give Sarah a smirk, “I haven’t really had the time to call up Tyler and ask him to fuck. He doesn’t mind anyways. He’s been busy smoking and selling weed for some extra cash.”

“What about Matt? Is he still fucking around?”

You pause at that, lips pursing in deep thought before you shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. I haven’t asked recently if I’m honest.”

Kendall gestures over your shoulder, “Looks like you’re about to find out the answer.”

You crane your neck to follow the direction she’s pointing in, noticing Matt standing near a back wall with a drink in hand, deep in conversation with Sadie who’s smiling, locked on each word he’s speaking to her.

Feeling your eyes on him, Matt looks up to meet your gaze, raising his drink in greeting and you grin, lifting your own cup before he resumes back in conversation.

You take in his appearance with interest; a black fitted tank top paired with some loose fitted jeans and shoes you’re certain he definitely stole from Nick’s closet. The silver chain deer hangs from his neck and silver rings adorn his fingers. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he looks good.

“Take it easy with the lovey dovey eyes,” Sarah teases, nudging your shoulder to bring your attention back to her and you laugh, tipping your head back to finish the contents of your drink. “He does look good though, so I don’t blame you.”

“When was the last time you fucked Matt?” You direct your question towards Anna who shrugs her shoulders in response. 

“I don’t remember,” She smacks her lips together. “Definitely more than two months ago, that’s for sure… No disrespect to you but god, I miss his cock. How he walks around with that thing completely baffles me.”

Kendall’s eyes widened slightly, “Is Matt’s cock big?”

“Yes.”

You and Anna share a knowing smile and high give each other. You drone out the complaints Kendall makes about wanting to fuck someone with a big cock and how Isaac always sets her up with people who are both shitty in bed and lack personality, you being too focused on looking around the room to find a clear path to get more drinks and you dismiss yourself from your girls for a moment as you spot Nick and Tyler pouring vodka into each others cups.

You bound over to your favourite boys, throwing your arms around their shoulders and startling them with your presence, but Tyler hazily smiles you when he sees it’s you and presses a chaste kiss to your temple as Nick hugs you tight in greeting, offering to fill up your cup which you happily give him.

“Where have you been?” Nick asks you as Tyler takes your hand in his to twirl your around, whistling as he eyes your dress. “You look pretty.”

“Catching up with my girls because I spend way too much time with you guys,” You explain, but cheesily grin at the compliment you received on your outfit. Nick hands you your filled drink and you thank him, taking a quick sip as your eyes glance around the room, “Where’s the rest of the guys?”

“Chris is around here somewhere trying to get laid and Nate is talking to this girl he likes from his classes,” Nick informs you before he laughs. “Matt’s been talking with Sadie for the past hour—-sweet girl is trying to make her move.”

“And why aren’t you showing off your charms tonight?”

Nick’s face immediately drops, “Please. I’m done with boys. All they make me feel is absolute regret and disappointment.”

You smile in sympathy, “You’re looking at the wrong guys.”

“No,” Nick shakes his head. “They’re all the same. Everyone of them. Disgusting.”

You loop your arm around his, tugging him into your side, “What if I introduce you to this guy in my class? He’s tall… handsome… sweet…”

Nick eyes you, clearly interested in what you’re telling him and he holds his head high, “Maybe.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Chris!” You greet him happily as he appears beside Tyler, staring at you all with a confused look but grins when you throw yourself into his arms to hug him tightly, swaying you both back and forth. “I thought you were trying to get laid?”

“I was,” Chris sighs as he pulls away from the hug, but keeps an arm wrapped around your middle. “But she has a boyfriend and he’s, like, scary looking and I didn’t feel like getting nightmares for life.”

You frown, patting his shoulder. “What a shame. The dry spell continues for you.”

Chris leans into your touch, batting his eyelashes prettily at you with a smirk, “You can change that for me if you want.”

Nick fake gags behind you as you smile, “In your dreams.”

Chris sighs jokingly, dropping his head low. “Guess I’ll keep on dreaming then.”

“Dreaming about what?”

The sound of Matt’s voice has you spinning around, beaming happily as your eyes meet his but it falters slightly when you notice the fake smile he’s sporting, wanting to question him and ask him what’s wrong but you bite your tongue, not wanting to bring attention to the subject, knowing it’ll make Matt uncomfortable putting him on the spot. 

You reach out and touch his arm, giving him a comforting squeeze which makes him seem to relax, using your grip on him to tug your into his side and for Chris’ arm to slip from your waist.

“Chris is saying weird ass shit about her again,” Nick fills Matt in, wafting the smoke that Tyler blows in his face teasingly when he takes a hit of his joint. “How’s Sadie?”

“Fine,” Matt replies simply, licking at his lips as he turns to you. “Do you want to get out of here? Just me and you?”

Chris immediately takes offence to that, “What about us? What are you going to do without us?!”

Matt goes to answer but Nick immediately raises his hand, silencing him. “Don’t answer that. Just don’t.”

You’re in complete bliss with Matt holding himself above you, your back is arched, bare chest pressed to his as he nips and licks at your neck, his hips lazily grinding into yours, cock hitting deeper than he’s ever been.

The pace is slow, something that you’re not used to when it comes to Matt, but you don’t find the voice within you to complain, enjoying it a lot more than you’d admit with your fingers tangled in his hair, cries spilling from your lips with your legs hooked over his waist.

He’s grunting in the crevice of your neck with each deep thrust, one hand caressing the side of your face while the other finds a place beside your head, holding up his weight.

You’re whining from the loss of contact when he moves his head away, missing the feeling of his teeth against your skin, the slight stubble scratching your face and you look up at him pleadingly, but he’s frozen as he stares down at you, despite his hips thrusting automatically into you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so pretty…” You barely hear him mumble and your heart pounds against your ribcage at the complement, body feeling more heated and warm.

“Matt—”

He cuts off your words by planting his lips on yours with the most sweetest and softest kiss he’s ever given you, and you melt into the touch, fingers untangling from his hair to cup his cheeks in your palms, gasping through the kiss as Matt's cock cock slowly pulls out of your pussy before pushing back in, sending a shrill up your spine. 

The band in your tummy tightens with each slow but powerful thrust he gives you, thighs shaking around his frame, unable to keep up with his kisses as your mouth falls open with short gasps and whines, white specks flickering in your vision as your feel yourself inching closer and closer over the edge.

“Cum,” Matt whispers, breath fanning over your face as he pants, “Do it. Cum on my cock.”

You wail as the band snaps, orgasm crashing down on you violently. Your body convulses, pussy squeezing around his cock, keeping him buried deep which has him moaning, his own hips stuttering as he cums. You feel him pulse inside you, filling you up with everything he gives.

Matt’s head slumps down on your shoulder as you try to steady your breathing, wincing as you feel him slowly move his hips back to pull his cock out of your sensitive cunt, your hand falling from his face to drop down at your pussy, gathering his cum that pools out onto your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Matt apologises against your skin, “I’m sorry, I—shit. I should’ve asked if I could—fuck. I got too overwhelmed. I’m sorry.”

“It’s kind of cute that you’re apologising,” You admit, gently pushing him off of your body to sit upright. “But you don’t need to apologise… this isn’t the first time you came inside me, Matt.”

“I know,” Matt runs his fingers through his sweaty hair. “I usually ask...”

“Matt. It’s fine,” You reassured him, placing your palm on his bicep. “I’ll forgive you a thousand times more if you help clean me up though.”

Matt smiles and nods his head as he slips off the bed, disappearing out of the room for a moment and returning with a wet towel. He sits between your parted legs, gently cleaning up the mess, whispering apologies and apologies every time you wince when he presses down on sensitive areas, thighs closing around his hand which he carefully pries open to resume his job. 

You sit in silence, watching him, frowning at the troubled look you see on his face, not used to seeing Matt being so closed off with his feelings and emotions, especially towards you. He hasn’t been open and honest with you in the past few weeks, he hasn’t come to you and asked for your reassurance or help. 

It makes you feel a little bit defeated. 

Something is different, and you struggle to pinpoint what it is.

The questions lay on the tip of your tongue, desperate to be brought to light and asked, and even more desperate to get the answers you’ve been craving. Your relationship with Matt has changed since the proposition you’ve made about sleeping together, but he’s still your best friend.

“What’s going on?” You finally ask and Matt freezes, fingers clutching the wet towel in his grasp tightly. “And please don’t lie to me… I can tell when you’re being truthful or not—”

“What am I to you?” Matt suddenly asks and you’re a little thrown off at your question being answered with his own question. He takes his hand away completely as you blink at him, feeling confused. “Even with all this going on… what am I to you?”

“You’re my best friend?”

Matt seems to frown deeply at that, “So nothing has changed? At all? Even with us sleeping together? I’m still your best friend?”

“Wh—of course!” You’re baffled, assuming that with the way Matt is speaking about your situationship, that he is worried that you have gained some negative feelings towards him. It hurts you, and you’re eager to reassure him, to let him know that everything is okay. “Matt, you’ll always be my best friend. We promised nothing would change, right? I’m keeping that promise.”

Matt closes his eyes as his shoulders sink in defeat, “I…” He drops his head with a sigh. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You bring your knees up to your chest, “Do what?”

“This,” He gestures between the two of you. “I just… I can’t. Not anymore. I can’t continue sleeping with you.”

“Oh.” You swallow thickly, feeling something heavy weighing in your throat. “Why?”

“Things have changed,” His voice is quieter now and it makes your heart shatter at the tone. Does he hate you? “I can’t continue whatever this is and be your best friend at the same time, it has to stop. It—” Matt sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” You mutter as your chin rests on your knees, hugging your legs closer to your chest to cover your modesty. You refuse to even look at him now, finding interest in the sheets below you as your throat tightens up more, feeling sick at the thought of him hating you so much that he can’t even continue sleeping with you. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but I—”

“Wait what?”

“—I’m just so sorry. Especially if I came across too forward and for putting you in such a position, I know you were so hesitant about this in the direct place.” You’re babbling now, unable to take control of yourself due to the overwhelming feeling that washed over you. “I’m so fucking sorry, Matt.”

“Wait… I don’t—”

“Can we not tell the others right now?” You raise your head to meet his eyes this time. He’s looking straight at you, confusion and disbelief swimming in his irises but you ignore it, chewing the inner skin of your cheek. “Mostly Nick. I don’t really want to hear him laugh in our faces and give us the whole ‘I told you so’ speech he threatened us with at the start.”

Matt calls out your name and extends his hand to touch you, but you’re already climbing off of the bed, searching around for your underwear and dress that was thrown across the room earlier.

You’re too embarrassed to continue on with the conversation, to ask him what exactly you did to make him grow to hate you so suddenly. Truthfully, you didn’t really want to dwell on it too much, the pain of losing someone like Matt already making your heart ache. 

You just wanted to go home—to be in the comfort of your own bed and curse yourself out, and probably cry to the point you might just forget everything that just happened. You are feeling a little teary, but you wouldn’t dare cry in front of Matt right now. 

“I’ll, uh, see you around or something,” You sniffle, shoving the heels onto your feet and casting one final look his way. “I’m sorry.”

It’s been almost two weeks since your last encounter with Matt.

You shouldn’t be avoiding him like you are. It’s childish, you know that. But you can’t force yourself to face someone who used to be your best friend and now seemingly hates your guts.

Maybe you should’ve waited a few more minutes, to give him enough time to explain the entire situation and how he was feeling but you were selfish, you didn’t want to hear him explain in full detail what you had done to make him change his feelings towards you so negatively. 

You miss him. Of course you miss him. For years he’s been your best friend—your other half, more like. There was no you without Matt and vice versa. You weren’t exactly sure on how you could continue moving on without Matt by your side, as dramatic as it sounds… but you’ve always been a little dramatic. 

His brothers, Nate and Tyler have been blowing up your phone—-courtesy of you ignoring them too, not wanting to hear Nick rub it in your face on how the ‘friends with benefits bullshit’ you had with Matt actually did go to shit. You also didn’t want to hear the others continuously ask questions about what happened and what had changed. 

Even your roommate, someone who keeps herself out of your business and hardly ever bothers you, had cornered you one morning at breakfast, asking why you looked so glum and why the ‘shirtless and tattooed Boston fuckboy’ wasn’t joining you both anymore.

You’re not the type to let anyone know your worries, so you’re surprised when you find yourself explaining to your roommate about what happened in full detail.

She gave you an unimpressed look, calling you a little stupid for not staying behind and listening despite you letting it be known that you couldn’t bear to listen to why his feelings turned negative towards you. Your face twisted and turned, offended by her harsh words but you allowed yourself to let her talk and not interrupt even though you desperately wanted to.

“You jumped to your own conclusion,” She told you when she was collecting the dishes. “You know, for two close best friends who talk to each other every second of the day, you have some major miscommunication issues.”

So, that’s what leads you to now; you sitting alone in the living room with your phone in hand, staring down at yours and Matt’s chat with your thumb between your teeth, biting down on the skin anxiously as you try to figure out how to start a conversation, to let him know you’re ready to listen.

from you: i think we should talk….

from matt: good because im almost at your house anyway. I had to go get something.

from you: ???? u coming over

from matt: yes from matt: i was going to make you listen to me from matt: its kinda important kid. 

You snort at his message, sending a quick thumbs up emoji before throwing your phone to the side, awaiting his arrival. Your leg nervously shakes in the corner of your vision and your eyebrows knit together, placing your hand down on your knee and squeezing tight.

As if that will stop you from being nervous. 

You’re about to hear the reasoning behind why Matt's feelings had changed for you so negatively, nothing can prepare you for it. 

Just bite the bullet. Take it like a champ.

The rapid knocking on the door rips you out of your thoughts and your head slowly turns with a confused look sketched upon your features. Was that Matt? Matt never knocks—he freely walks in like it’s his own place usually, always making himself at home.

You push yourself up from the couch and make your way towards the front door, taking a peek through the peephole to see Matt’s form, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip with his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth nervously. You grow even more confused and concerned, pulling open your door to face him fully.

“Why did you knock—”

“Hate you?!” Matt suddenly cuts you off with a shout, startling you with the loudness of his tone. His eyes are wide as he stares at you, full of disbelief. “Hate you, I—fuck—how could I hate you?! I’d never hate you… god, you’re so frustrating sometimes.”

Your lips quirk upwards, “Nice to see you too?”

“I don’t hate you. At all. When I told you that things have changed, I didn’t mean anything bad by it… I pretty much meant the opposite…” Matt’s words trail off and before you can even get the chance to ask him to explain exactly what he means, air gets caught at the back of your throat and you struggle to speak as he pulls his hands from behind his back; a bag of candy in one and a handful of ripped up flowers in the other. Your heart thumps rapidly. “I’m going to tell you something and I just… I need you to listen to me.”

You barely whisper, “Okay.”

“Being in this friends with benefits relationship with you was not as easy as I thought it would be,” Matt tells you, his honesty making you pull your attention away from the gifts in his hands to meet his gaze. “We promised each other that we’re not going to involve any titles to make it complicated for us… yet here I am, standing in front of you with the same candy and flowers in my hand from when we first met, about to confess my fucking feelings to you, I’m so—”

“You’re rambling.” You cut him off, a smile creeping onto your lips.

“Yeah, of course I am,” Matt laughs at himself, shaking his head as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck before he straightens out, keeping his eyes on yours. “I fell for you. Hard. I think I sort of realised it on your birthday but I didn’t want to say anything just in case whatever I was feeling wasn’t what I thought it was… but when we were at that party and I saw you from across the room, talking with your friends, I realised how much I actually do fucking like you and that it wasn’t just my dick talking.”

You snort as you repeat, “Dick talking.”

“Shut up,” Matt smiles at you, his own laugh fleeting past his lips before he sighs, “I like you. I’m falling in love with you, and I get it if you want to reject me because of how fucking weird this whole thing turned out… but I would actually like to continue being with you, not just as a best friend but as your boyfriend.”

You’re too busy repeating his confession in your head to notice that Matt is waiting for an answer, bottom lips tucked between his teeth as he bites down nervously, visibly shaking out of excitement or fear due to the fact he just confessed his entire feelings—you weren’t sure which one was right.

The silence from you kills Matt and his face drops when you step forward to quietly take the flowers and candies out of his hands, taking a step back inside your house. His shoulders slump in defeat, taking your nonverbal response as a rejection to his proposal of him being your boyfriend.

He goes to turn around, to get the fuck off your doorstep and drive home, hoping that the intense embarrassment he feels coursing through his veins is enough to make him disappear.

But he freezes mid escape when he hears the rustling of you ripping open the pack of candies, spinning around to see you looking at him with the prettiest smile.

He watches, heart thumping wildly, stomach fluttering with nervousness and excitement as you extend your arm out, angling the bag in his direction and a grin spreads across his face, unable to control the happiness that bursts from within.

You’re giving him a treat, you’ve giving him a relationship.

©sturnioz

[snail-day]

Satoru loves watching you enjoy the little things.

The way your eyes light up when you're playing your silly little games, kicking your feet and squealing at the screen during a cutscene for some dating game. Or when you’re wrapped in a blanket ranting about your show, hands flailing, voice all animated, rambling about plot twists and fictional men. He’ll just sit beside you on the couch, one arm draped across the back, legs sprawled, watching you instead of the screen. His snowy lashes flicker with every blink, lips curled into that lazy grin that makes his whole face glow.

It’s not fair how pretty he is. Those starlit blue eyes? Unfair. The way his hair’s always a little messy from carding his fingers through it? Double unfair.

And it’s all cute… until he tries to be smooth.

One second you're mid-sentence about your latest hyperfixation, and the next - lift off. He scoops you up without warning, arms snug around your waist as your legs instinctively wrap around him, breath catching in your throat. Your arms circle his neck for balance and you blink at him, wide-eyed.

“Satoru - !!”

“What?” he hums innocently, smirking like he didn’t just interrupt your little evening on the couch.

“Put me down!”

“Mm... no,” he says, walking toward the bedroom. Smiling like a fool in love. “You looked too cute not to carry.”

You squirm a little and he grunts, trying not to laugh. “Stop wiggling, baby,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you through a grin. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

His breath is warm, fingers splayed wide against the back of your thighs, gently squeezing the plush flesh. He kisses you again, slower this time, even as your giggles bubble up between you. And his eyes, god, they sparkle when he looks at you. Like it’s your wedding night all over again.

He peppers questions between steps:

“How was your day?”

“Did you miss me?”

“Did you think about me while you were playing your little game?”

You mumble something flustered and he grins, pleased.

Finally, he drops you onto the bed - not too hard, just enough to make you bounce and squeal - and flops right on top of you, burying his face in your neck with a happy groan. “Ughhh I missed you. Missed this. Missed us.”

You can’t stop laughing when he starts kissing every inch of your face. Smooch. “Pretty.” Smooch. “Perfect.” Smooch. “My favorite girl.” You try to squirm away but he just holds you tighter, long legs tangling with yours like he needs to be touching every part of you at once.

Eventually, he rolls you both onto your sides, cradling you to his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, and his thumb brushes soft circles over your spine. Then he takes a deep breath, voice a little quieter now, more tender.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair. A soft kiss pressed to the crown of your head.

And then, “…still mad your lockscreen’s that anime guy and not me, though.”

You snort in response.

He groans before pestering you with kisses and tickles again.

You both know that when you're fast asleep, he's going to change that lockscreen of yours to one of the numerous selfies he sends you 🩷

[mggslover]

POSITIONS — aaron hotchner x derek morgan

In which two FBI agents ask you to reenact a crime scene with them, and you find yourselves in a very interesting position.

genre smut (18+) cw porn with plot, crime scene inaccuracies, early seasons hotch & morgan (just pretend hotch isn't married), reader grew up/lives in paris, reader has a dad, some spanking, threesome in eiffel tower position: blowjob and p in v, semi public sex, creampie wc 4,9k a/n i’m really curious to know who you guys would prefer to have in front and who in back in this position. i think i went with the general consensus, read to find out ;) kink: threesome “eiffel tower”

If there’s one thing significant about Paris, it’s the Eiffel Tower. 

Ever since you were a little girl, you had a deep fascination with the monument. Maybe that had to do with the fact that your father was the owner of a well-established restaurant inside of the tower. You grew up with all sorts of magical stories about the place, and once you reached the age of twelve, your dad let you work with him on the weekends and during the holidays. 

The experiences you’ve had as a teen were just as amazing as you predicted them to be. The crew had taken you in like you were just as much their blood-related kid — which was necessary considering your dad didn’t have the time to treat you like his. Instead, he saw you as a colleague, counted on you as a colleague, and honestly, feeling useful and needed was the sentiment that made the experience as special as it was. 

Growing up came with more tasks and responsibilities, and you handled them well. So well that you decided that this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life: follow in your father’s footsteps and inherit the business one day. 

It sounded all fun and games, until your father had reached an age where he had to take some steps back, work more from home instead of being at the restaurant all day, every day. 

That’s where you came in the picture. It had taken you years of hard work (yes, the boss might be your dad but he didn’t play favorites) when you finally received the title of manager. 

It was another fancy term that hid hours of stress and sleep deprivation, because now, being the head responsible, you could not fuck up.  

But you did.

Hard. 

Certain mistakes were to be expected: getting into an argument with a customer, dropping a new set of plates, adding the wrong date of a large booking in the calendar. But accidentally hiring a hit woman who got two of your star customers killed off was a rather large fuck up.

It wasn’t your fault; it was the sentence you’ve been repeating like a mantra for the past week. The popularity of the restaurant has blown up since you became manager. You had made some stylistic choices in both the interior and the menu that attracted a bunch of new customers. So many that the workload became overbearing, there was no other choice than to start hiring new employees.

The woman you had hired seemed the perfect match. Her resume was impressive — something you later found out was completely made up (you had no time to double-check, okay?) — and most important of all, she was available right away.

With full faith, you had let her take the night shift, giving her the responsibility of closing the place after hours. That following morning you received a call from your coworker at 5AM. You were certain it was something bad (having warned everyone that you’re not a morning person and you’re only available for emergencies), though what you didn’t expect was to hear how your star customers — two successful businessmen who had been dining at the restaurant — were brutally murdered, shot by a bullet through their heads, the new employee having fled the crime scene. 

So, here you were, having to deal with the consequences of your actions. The FBI was alarmed and on their way, and you got ready as fast as you could before heading over to the restaurant.

-`♡´-

“It’s fine, Alain,” you repeat with a sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration.

Alain, the coworker who had informed you and the police, was running around in circles, absolutely freaked out. You couldn’t blame him; he was the one who found the bodies and who instructed the forensics and medics when they had arrived. 

“Just… slow down, okay?” you remind him. “Can you please talk to the other agents outside? I’ll handle the ones that will investigate the scene.”

He swallowed, eyes still wide in adrenaline and anxiety, but eventually gave you a stern nod and a “Yes, boss,” before walking out.

You tried keeping calm as you took your place behind the reception, keeping your mind from wandering to all the cruelties of what had happened and of what will happen once your father is informed of the events. 

You didn’t need to distract yourself for long, because the sounds of footsteps and muffled muttering entered the room.

Two neatly dressed men appeared in your periphery. Just by their walks, you could tell that they meant business. Their faces too were etched in serious determination. You predicted the one on the left to be around your age, the one on the right a couple of years older than you, but still young. They were attractive. Too attractive for your liking.

“Are you the owner?” The agent on the right asked you.

You wished you could respond to that with a “Well yes, indeed I am”, but lying to the cops after a murder had taken place didn’t seem like the smartest idea. “I’m the manager,” you eventually answer.

The man nods, reaching his hand out toward you. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he tilts his head to the man beside him, “and this is my colleague, Special Agent Derek Morgan.”

As a manager, you’ve shaken many hands in your life; a handshake could tell a lot about a person, but all this handshake did was make your brain short-circuit. You felt a tingle in your stomach as Aaron’s large palm made contact with yours. His grip was firm, but you could tell that he was holding back, careful not to bruise you, although you wouldn’t have minded that. Looking up through your lashes, you caught his dark colored eyes already focused on you. He brushed his thumb over your skin, ever so light, but you noticed the action came with a small gleam in his eyes. 

The other agent, Morgan, cleared his throat. “The bodies were found by that window?”

His question snapped you out of whatever mental fantasy you had found yourself in. To your dismay, Aaron let go of your hand, the intertwining of your fingers breaking as your hand fell to your side, palm still clammy as a reminder of his touch.

Awkwardly you scratched the back of your neck, following his gaze to the window and trying not to comment on the way Derek’s lip curled as he patted Aaron on the back, oblivious to you catching on. 

“Uh, yeah. My colleague told me it happened right here,” you explain, pointing toward the glass wall just a few feet away.

“Mind if we take a look?” 

“No, not at all,” you say in quick permission. “Go ahead.”

The second they turned their backs to you, you allowed yourself to take in a deep breath. It truly was comedic how, out of every event this morning, a polite handshake was the thing that seemed to have the most effect on you. 

Maybe you were more touch-deprived than you thought you were. It made sense, honestly. It was another reason why you were on the hunt for new employees: needing more personal time, sexual time included. 

You watched the two males from a distance, hands gripped tight around the wooden desk, like you were trying to keep some sexual beast from escaping out of you.

“Hey!” You scoffed when Derek wiped his gloved thumb over the window. Those were cleaned just two days ago!

He turns his head to you, brows furrowed in question. “Have these holes always been in here?”

Have these holes always been in here? You repeat in your hand with a mocking tone. Of course there haven’t been holes in the windows; this is a well-established restaurant! 

You spoke up, your tone sounding softer than it was intended. “What do you mean?” 

Aaron made a gesture with his hand, asking you to come over, and you did your best to not imagine what it’s like if he curled his fingers like that in a different situation. 

You patted your clammy hands on your pants, straightened your back, and walked over to them.

The moment you stood in front of the window, you noticed it: there were two clean, bullet-sized holes at varying heights, around three feet away from each other. You let your hand ghost over the window, feeling a slight breeze coming from outside.

“See this?” Derek circles the hole with his thumb — an act that your mind is also turning dirty. “You can tell that the shot is fired from outside.”

“Did they do it from the roof of that apartment?”

The observation seemed simple to you; the beige-colored apartment building facing the restaurant had the perfect viewpoint to aim directly at the window where you stood. But apparently you had said something genius, because Derek’s brows raised and Aaron’s eyes glazed over you with a look full of surprise and pride.

He nods. “That could be it. I’ll call Garcia.”

You had no clue who Garcia was, only that the call was so urgent that Aaron took large strides to the other side of the room, leaving you and Agent Morgan alone.

“You shouldn’t have touched the glass,” you muttered. It was very nitpicky, you were aware, but something in you pulled you to Derek Morgan — to the both of them, for that matter — that made you want to speak to him, no matter the subject.

He chuckled, moving his eyebrows in an expressive way. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

You kept your voice steady, wanting to radiate confidence. “I got them cleaned two days ago.”

That made him laugh even more. “You got them cleaned?” He shook his head in slight disbelief, still smirking. “You didn’t even clean them yourself, princess. You have no right to complain.”

The nickname easily rolled off of his tongue, and you could imagine you not being the first person receiving the pet name. Still your stomach fluttered.

He leaned closer to you, and you almost jumped when his muscled arm grazed yours. “Do you like being called princess?”

You scoffed a laugh, not showing the effect his words had on you. “What? You’re a mind reader?”

“I’m a profiler, princess, I work at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” 

Ah. 

Just when you were about to tease him back, the now familiar clicking of Aaron’s dress shoes filled the room. 

“You were right,” he started, announcing his presence. “We knew she was a hit woman, but Garcia found out she never works alone. We’re assuming she had two sharpshooters with her who shot the men from the apartment building when she gave the sign.”

The two agents eye each other, then the window, conspiratorially. 

“She had to have lured them to the window somehow.” Morgan analyzes, observing the ground he’s standing on. “She must’ve stood in the middle, one sharpshooter taking a victim each.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, taking his words in. “There’s a lot of space in between them.”

“Maybe she wasn’t standing.”

You don’t know what possessed you to speak up again. You have no experience in the field; hell, you don’t even have enough free time to watch any crime shows.

“I’m sorry, I won’t interrupt anymore.”

“Do you think she was lying down?” Aaron asks you. Nothing about his looks or tone told you that he was joking. He was serious. He genuinely wanted to hear your opinion.

Still, you rub your neck, scared to say something stupid. “Uh, I don’t know. It just makes more sense, also with her height and stuff.”

“Was your coworker a flirt?”

Aaron and you tilt your face to Derek. As Aaron tries to figure out what the logic behind the question was, you think back on your coworker, and suddenly puzzle pieces start to connect.

“She hasn’t worked here for long, but she’s always been a bit flirty with them. The uh, the victims.”

Derek nods, shaking his head, his tongue poking into his cheek to hold back his sly grin. “This might sound crazy.”

A breathy chuckle escapes you. He cannot be thinking the same thing as you are.

Aaron is the only one not catching on, blinking between you guys. “What is it?”

-`♡´-

That’s how you found yourself balancing on the soles of your feet while Aaron stood behind you, his hands holding your hips steady while you had your back bent with your own hands clawed around Derek’s thighs as he towered over you. 

And to not leave any details behind: Aaron was slowly rubbing the head of his cock along the swollen lips of your pussy, while your tongue was toying and teasing the lines along Derek’s length. 

Okay, it didn’t happen that fast. You were desperate, but you still had some manners. 

Derek was quick to find out that the unsub had used sex to lure the men to the window. It was because of a mutual effort that you figured out the position: Eiffel Tower. 

It was ironic, sure, the Eiffel Tower sex position in the Eiffel Tower itself. You had stupidly laughed about it and had tried to mimic the position to Aaron with your hands. But instead of joining you in your joking, his expression remained neutral. He had considered your words… and it sounded plausible to him.

First you had watched as Aaron and Derek stood on the spots where the victims had stood last night. They spoke to themselves, pretending to be them in this strange sort of role play of the dead, trying to get a glimpse of whatever the victims and the unsub must’ve been thinking at the time.

It was Derek who had called you over. His voice sounded casual, strictly business, as he asked you for your help. As if reenacting a sexual position with two federal agents was the usual procedure. 

Not one to decline the commands of authority, you had given a tight-lipped smile, maneuvering yourself in between their broad bodies. Grateful that running around the restaurant on the daily had kept you some sort of flexible, you had bent your back, clawing onto Derek’s thighs to keep yourself steady.

It was only when you blinked up that you noticed how incredibly close your face was to the agent’s groin. “Oh, sorry,” you apologized in embarrassment, taking a small step back until you bumped your ass against the stiffening length in Aaron’s pants. 

You stayed still, as if keeping quiet for the next moments would magically make everyone forget about what had just happened. What you had just felt. 

Derek spoke up first, trying to lighten the mood by giving a low whistle. “Now this is a sight for sore eyes.”

Aaron cleared his throat, remembering what he was here for. “This could be the position.” His gaze flicked to the bullet holes in the glass that matched almost precisely with their heights. “A clear shot straight through their heads.” 

Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t give you a Thank you for your help, we know enough. No, he stayed right in place. He even shuffled closer to you, the heat radiating off of him. 

And then he pressed his hips forward. Just slightly. Just to let you feel him, to see what kind of reaction he could get out of you. 

The air left your lungs in a quiet gasp, the action catching you off guard. You hadn’t even realized how turned on you were until you felt how damp your panties clung onto you now that his hips were pressed against yours.

Inevitably, you followed the gasp with a moan. A loud one at that, showing just how desperate you’d been for a single touch.

God, you were embarrassed. You wanted to dig a hole to crawl in and not get out for the foreseeable future. But apparently the agents didn’t share that same sentiment. To be more precise, Derek let out a groan in response, throwing his head back like he had been holding it in this whole time. As if his dirtiest dreams just came to life right in front of him. 

You noticed his pants creasing around his crotch as his hardening cock filled out the fabric. Words only made things awkward, more difficult than they had to be, so you let your hands talk.

“That’s it, princess,” Derek sighed in pleasure as your fingers brushed over the thick outline of his length. 

Some of your senses seemed to sharpen — finding yourself in some weird trance while you played with him, already fantasizing over how his cock would look and feel when there’d be no clothes separating you. Other thoughts (mainly worries) faded to the background in a blur. You didn’t — couldn’t — think about the fact that you were doing this in public. With one turn of your head, you’d be able to look out of the window and see the panoramic view of Paris, all of its citizens. But it didn’t matter to you. Neither did it matter that you were about to have sex at an active crime scene nor that a bunch of reporters were standing outside, eagerly waiting for the agents to leave the tower. 

How could you worry about those things when you were squished in between two federal agents? Agents who are meant to protect you, and in this case, please you too.

Aaron held you steady by your upper thighs, enabling you to play with his colleague’s cock. You looked up at Derek with darkened irises full of lust, and it only took one nod from him to give you the go sign. 

Hungrily, your hands fiddled with his slacks, grateful that he wasn’t wearing a belt so that you could pull them down with a single tug after undoing the button. Your heart hammered in your chest, breath heaving in anticipation as you sneaked your hands into his pants. A hum escaped you when you felt the muscles of Derek’s firm thighs. 

Not only had your hands moved in greed. Simultaneously, Aaron’s strong, calloused fingers had slipped into the waistband of your pants, mirroring your movements. You stopped your own ministrations, facing Derek’s well-groomed v-line as you helped Aaron by stepping out of your pants, your underwear smoothly coming along.

“Shit, look at you,” Aaron praised in a husky voice.

There was no time to process his words as a sharp sting bloomed across the cheek of your ass. Then another. The delicious impact made you stumble forward, your nose brushing against Agent Morgan’s shaft that was still mostly covered by his boxers.

You surprised the both of them by being into it (very much so), placing a wet kiss on the exposed shaft, using your dominant hand to bunch the fabric down in a hurry until it pooled at his knees. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Derek breathed out, his hands finding your hair as you got to work, peppering kisses along his stiffening heavy length. “Come on, take it. It’s yours.”

Using only the tip of your tongue, you pushed the head of his cock up until it lay flat in your mouth. Then, trying to keep some composure, you carefully swallowed him inch by inch until he was comfortable filling your throat. 

Behind you, Aaron had busied himself with taking off his pants, only catching your attention when his belt hit the floor with a loud clang. He had fisted his leaking cock in a tight grip, pumping himself a few times for good measure before aligning himself with your cunt. His arousal dripped onto your needy folds, adding to your slickness. 

You moaned around Derek’s length, eyes watering from the ache in your jaw and the teasing pressure of Aaron’s cock against your swollen clit. 

Aaron had set a steady pace, dragging his tip along your folds — occasionally slipping an inch into your entrance just to tease you — and you followed that rhythm by bobbing your head up and down, connecting the three of you in this filthy dance.

“Feel that?” Aaron hissed as he slipped his tip back in. “How she’s pulling me in?” 

It truly was a challenge to communicate with someone when you had your mouth full of cock. 

“Oh, she’s enjoying it,” Derek answered for you, hands tightening into your hair and tilting his head back to get a better view of his colleague’s cock disappearing into your pussy. “I think she wants some more, Hotch.”

Thank you. 

“I know she wants it, Morgan. Her pussy’s begging me for it.” And with that, his thick girth slides into you. Not inch by inch like Derek’s had — no hesitation — just one smooth, long stroke until he bottomed out.

“Fuck!” you cried, sputtering for breath as your hand replaced your mouth on Derek’s length.

Your pussy clenched around him, swallowing him deeper until the rough hairs on his happy trail tickled your skin. Every sliver of your skin felt like it was on fire, your entire body charged with pure bliss as the hands of two men played with you.

“Don’t get distracted now,” Aaron spoke in a low tone, keeping his hands splayed out on your thighs, fingers digging into the plump flesh as he thrust himself into you.

The initial burning of being filled was quick to dissolve into pleasure. The girth of his length dragged along your inner walls, stretching you open with each push and pull of his hips. 

Meanwhile, Derek was getting impatient. He lazily fisted his cock, now standing fully proud and erect, practically begging to enter your tight throat again. 

He grazed your jaw with his knuckles, coaxing you to look up at him.

“Come get another taste, pretty girl,” he cooed, using the blunt head of his cock to paint your lips in a slick gloss. 

“That’s it,” Aaron hummed in satisfaction, watching the scene unfold in front of him. “Now give him a little kiss.”

His words ignited a spark in you, the tingling sensation shooting directly to your core. You licked your lips, savoring the salty and inviting taste before parting your lips and taking him in. Your mouth happily welcomed him back, already used to his size as you explored his cock further with your tongue. 

Aaron’s hands were exploring your body, not knowing where to settle his palms as they roamed from the soft skin of your stomach that hid beneath your blouse back to the plump swell of your ass as he continued fucking himself into you. 

“Fucking perfect,” Aaron grunted. “Taking us like it’s nothing. Like you do it every day.”

If they only knew that you hadn’t gotten laid in months, that this is a result of the sheer desperation that had been building up.

“She needed this bad, Hotch,” the profiler in front of you spoke knowingly. His eyes found yours, cupping your jaw that held his heavy length inside of it. “I think we should give her a little more. You deserve that, don’t you, baby?”

Instead of nodding, you shook your head to take more of him in, licking a bold stripe to the underside of his cock to agree. Then you tightly clenched your walls, repeating the message to Aaron. 

“Is that what you want, honey?”

Another clench.

“Alright, then,” he breathed, squeezing your ass. “You’ve asked for it.” 

Suddenly his cock slipped out of you, leaving you painfully empty. But before you could whimper in complaint, he had dropped himself to his knees, fingers gripping your hips as he pulled you down with him, his cock entering you again in a single, smooth motion. 

The hard floor bruised your knees, positioned in doggy, but with your upper body bent as you held onto Derek’s thigh. The Eiffel Tower now more reminiscent of the Tower of Pisa. 

Aaron angled his cock into you so that his tip comfortably nuzzled into your G-spot, drawing a low whine from your mouth. Either Aaron was a great profiler in areas outside of crime too, or this man was very experienced — because he knew exactly how you liked it: lifting your hips up and down his cock, giving you full-body shudders with every thrust. 

Derek’s cock hovered above your face, just inches away from your mouth. This time he didn’t have to ask, because in a second you had greedily wrapped your lips around him again, craving his taste after the momentary loss. 

You wrapped your soft fingers around his shaft, stroking him with practiced ease, matching the movements of your head.

You knew you were done for when Aaron’s palm dragged from your lower stomach to your heat. His long fingers spread open your folds. Your clit was already throbbing, awaiting his touch. The little bud twitched when he pressed the pad of his finger against it, not even needing to circle it for you to start moaning out, the weight of the contact enough to drive you crazy. 

“There she is,” Derek hummed, proudly watching you as you hollow your cheeks around him. “Still sucking me so good even when that tight pussy is getting used.”

You speed up the flicks of your wrist, pulling your mouth back to catch a deep breath. A moan leaves your lips just by seeing how the agent is hovering over you — his lip caught in between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes blinking tightly shut when you tease his slit with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re gonna make me come like that.” He hissed.

“That’s exactly what she wants, Derek,” Aaron grunts, fastening the drags of his finger over your clit while he moves his cock in and out of you in deep strokes. 

“This sweet pussy is going to come all over me,” he continues, voice raspy. “She wants you to fill her mouth. Give her something back.”

Derek smirked. “I’ll give you what you want, but… ladies first.”

Hearing his words made you realize that you were subconsciously waiting for some sort of permission to let go. The second that Derek had finished his sentence, your legs started trembling. Aaron’s pace was relentless, marking you up from the inside. The head of his cock kissed your G-spot with every push of his hips, and you desperately clung onto the warm wave that was building deep in your stomach.

“Doing so good for us, you’re almost there.” Aaron praised you. “Let us fill you up, honey, give you what you deserve. All you have to do is let go.”

A cry tore from your lips as your walls broke down. All of your muscles spasmed, hit by one aftershock after the other.

Your orgasm tipped Derek over the edge, palms holding your head steady as he spilled into your mouth. 

Aaron placed his hands in the air in surrender, watching in awe as your body shook and pulsed around him. How the muscles in Morgan’s pelvis clenched as he shot his warm release down your throat.

Your cunt was gripping him so tightly. Fucking weeping for more. 

And Aaron gave it to you.

A loud, guttural moan echoed through the restaurant as his hips stuttered, painting your walls white.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” Derek breathed out, head thrown back with a lazy grin. 

Derek’s cock slipped out of your mouth, traces of your saliva and his cum dripping off his half-hard length. 

“You got a lil something—“ His thumb brushed some slick off of your chin before pushing the digit into your mouth. You licked his thumb clean with a flick of your tongue, moaning as you did so. 

When he removed his finger, you allowed yourself to lean back into Aaron’s chest. Collapse, more like. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you took comfort in the way his cock softened inside of you. 

Not as fazed as you are, Derek pulled his pants back up. He shoved his cock into his boxers, not minding the wet stain that he left on them.  

“The bodies must be at the morgue right now. I’ll meet Spencer there.” 

Only now did your mind feel clear enough to realize the gravity of the situation.

It became even more clear when Aaron gently pushed you off of him, taking your hand to lift you up. Then he repeated Derek’s acts by dressing himself.

Hurriedly you did the same, ignoring the warm semen that dripped down your thighs as you pulled your underwear up. 

Aaron waited until you were done and then held out his hand, a white card seated between his thumb and pointer finger. “Thank you for your help. We’ll contact you when we know more about the case.”

-`♡´-

It was several days later when your phone rang.

It was a habit to pick up right away. As a manager, being the one all clients and establishments will reach out to.

“Hello?”

“It’s SSA Aaron Hotchner. We have an update on the case.”

“Oh,” you breathed out. Not your most clever response, but not yet having whipped your head around the fact of who’s on the other side of the line.

“Agent Morgan and I need to see you in private. Are you free tonight?”

[crystallizedday]

SO

I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE NEW DELTARUNE CHAPTERS OR I WILL EXPLODE

I wanna primarily talk about my take on the knight’s identity, but I’ll sprinkle a few other thoughts of mine in if I can, cause HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Anyway

MASSIVE spoilers for Deltarune chapters 3 & 4.

DO NOT CLICK READ MORE IF YOU DO NOT WANNA GET SPOILED!!

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

So

To me, it’s down to Dess & Carol Holiday.

Like

Look at this design.

Those are DEFINITELY antlers.

Toby knows his audience.

He’s poked fun of it in the game before (ie the theorist rant about Mike)

To me, he wouldn’t just include a design detail like that & NOT expect us all to think about the Holiday’s

So either he intentionally made them look like horns

Or it’s a red herring

& I highly doubt it’s the latter.

I DO think there’s a potential red herring, but it’s not in the knight’s design.

SPEAKING OF TOBY KNOWING HIS AUDIENCE & LIKELY HAVING THESE SPRITES HAVE SPECIFIC DETAILS

THOSE HAND HOLES ARE NOT A COINCIDENCE, & I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL!!

However, I don’t think it’s as mind blowing as it may seem at first.

Most of the fandom already agrees that Gaster has SOMETHING to do with the plot of Deltarune.

The hand holes don’t feel like something that indicates that Gaster is the knight.

Instead, it feels like it merely connects the knight TO Gaster.

Either the knight serves the former scientist (since there is no knight without a leader they follow)

OR

They BOTH are of equal power, people who were once of the light now prisoners of the dark.

Whether they have the same goal is… not clear.

However, the very fact that we now have solid (even if unspoken & rather interpretive) confirmation that the knight and Gaster ARE related

Is a big deal

Even if we all kinda knew that already.

NOW

Back to the Holiday’s.

I actually played through chapter 3 & 4 myself without looking anything up beforehand.

Yes, I missed some things, but from what I DID see, I first came to the conclusion that Carol, Noelle’s mother, was the knight.

In chapter 4, Kris talks to someone on the phone.

Kris seems to be working with someone who wants the dark worlds to spread & grow, hence why they stop the player from reading the bunker code written inside Dess’ guitar (keep that last fact in mind).

We don’t know for certain who this voice belongs to.

Is it the knight?

Gaster?

The same person Spamton spoke with back before his fall from fame?

It all seemed ambiguous

Until this happened.

Kris tells the person on the phone that they failed to stop Susie from getting the guitar.

The person then says they’ll be “right there…”

Which leads to

You cannot tell me with a straight face that this is a coincidence.

Noelle KNOWS her mom’s work hours.

Why would Carol suddenly come home so early?

If Carol was not the one on the phone, then someone or something HAD to come over to Noelle’s.

The voice specifically says “I’ll be right there.”

Not “I’ll stop her”

Or “I’ll send someone.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Carol is the ONLY person who arrives at the house before Susie’s kicked out & Kris follows her.

Not to mention

Like

Toby didn’t highlight “you” in RED merely to create emphasis.

He rarely does that.

We see him highlight stuff in YELLOW in this chapter, sure

But the only other thing he’s highlighted in red (from my recollection) was when Noelle talked about listening in for the presumed “mouse” while she & Susie wait in Dess’ room

& the red text hinted for you to make noise.

Considering that hint was for YOU & not KRIS (since you’re separated from Kris during this scene)

Me thinks it legitimately means something

& wasn’t just Toby deciding to be a lil funny & switch up his text colors for kicks (even if that WOULD be hilarious…)

THE POINT IS

I highly doubt Carol’s talking to Kris in the above scene, or at least, not JUST Kris.

I think she’s talking to the player.

The “you.”

We know from chapter 2’s Snowgrave route (specifically when you are about to defeat Spamton) that “you” refers to the player, not Kris.

Carol’s line here feels intentional.

ANOTHER INTERESTING THING

This COULD be seen as like

A metaphorical thing

(ie to show how “cold” Carol is toward others)

But considering Noelle’s whole thing in chapter 2

& the background ambiance when she arrives

& how Susie comments on FEELING the ACTUAL temperature drop…

It just feels

Too odd to be purely metaphorical.

Do I think this confirms she is the knight?

No.

To me, it merely shows that Carol is a PART of whatever this whole thing is.

Carol COULD be the knight

But to me, it doesn’t feel as thematically fitting as Dess being the knight.

Cause like

Dess is MISSING.

We don’t know HOW she went missing.

No one hasn’t seen her in quite a long time.

It makes sense that Dess, either willingly or forcefully, became the knight.

& when I say “became”

I mean like

MORPHED into it.

She IS the knight.

It is no suit of armor she can take off.

It is no dark world form she can shed if she were to enter the light world (assuming she ever could).

She IS the knight, & the knight is HER.

She is forever warped by a past event we have yet to see.

Plus

Carol feels like she has a few intentional red herrings that would make fans point to HER as the knight

Mainly the kitchen katana that she apparently uses to cut fruitcake with.

THAT feels like a straightforward red herring

Cause it’s TOO obvious.

Besides

The knight doesn’t wield a katana.

If Carol were the knight, I feel like the knight’s sword would be a lot more elegant looking, more katana-like.

It wouldn’t surprise me to see Carol KNOW about her eldest daughter’s fate & actively be working with her.

…

Also WHY IS THERE A NOTE IN DESS’ GUITAR??

Who put that there?

WHEN did they put that there?

I doubt it was Carol. That feels like a weird place to put a code. She feels like the character to have the code on HER at all times.

The code was likely from Dess herself.

Why was it put there?

To remind Dess how to open it (likely causing her to explore the shelter & later go “missing)?

Or perhaps

Somehow

It was written after her disappearance

As a quiet call for help

For SOMEONE to open the bunker & end the nightmare.

Carol could still know about the code without being the one to write it.

If Kris can spot the note so easily after only looking through the guitar ONCE

We can wager that Dess’ MOTHER, who LIVES in that house, likely found out about it at some point, ESPECIALLY if she truly is a part of the madness somehow.

Assuming this is all true, I wonder if Carol never plucked the note out because doing that would require breaking the guitar in some way, & she does not have the heart to do it.

That idea’s more headcanon-y than anything

Cause I’d just love to have a scene like that play out

Where she mumbled to herself about just getting rid of the damn note

But can’t without hurting the strings

Showing that she DOES still care. She DOES have humanity.

It’s just buried in the freezing cold.

…

… so while this seems like a good ending spot

I wanna say one last thing.

Fellas.

F e l l a s.

The later chapters don’t HAVE to abide by a set formula.

I keep seeing people argue whether this or that was the secret boss

& I’m just like

Fellas

It doesn’t have to match chapter 1 & 2’s format.

Hell, chapter 2 diverted from chapter 1’s format by making IT’s secret boss someone you encounter in game no matter how you play, a stark contrast from Jevil, who you can play the entire game without ever seeing a LICK of dialogue about him.

I think, out of everything, we shouldn’t worry about “who the secret boss is.”

No.

We should be more concerned about the shadow crystals & where they end up.

Cause APPARENTLY

DEFEATING THE KNIGHT IN CHAPTER 3 LEADS TO SUSIE CHIPPING OFF A PIECE OF THEIR SWORD

& WHEN YOU GO TO PICK UP THE SHARD

YOU ADDITIONALLY GET A SHADOW CRYSTAL!!

At first, I assumed the shadow crystal came FROM the sword, but that may not be entirely right.

Even still, I think the crystals either come FROM the knight

Or the knight & the crystals come from the same place.

Now, how specific characters get a hold of it

Is… up in the air.

We see Gerson hand one to Susie in chapter 4.

He tells her that someone likely wanted him to use it, but he didn’t find it interesting, so he never really did anything with it.

Perhaps someone (the knight, Carol, Gaster, who knows) is giving certain Darkeners shadow crystals for some unknown reason.

Whatever the reason is, considering the bosses to get these shadow crystals all tie to EXTREMELY hard boss fights, it’s likely a source of power the corrupts the user, just as it did with Jevil & Spamton.

So

By that logic

I suppose the knight IS the secret boss

But more so that the secret to the boss is that it’s winnable

Which feels

Very hilarious & overall Toby-ish to me, not gonna lie. IWNWODMWOCKSOMXOSMXODCM

But uh

Seriously.

We gotta look at how these bosses connect on a far less shallow level. We can’t be too occupied with interpretive patterns in the chapters’ varying story beats

Cause those story beats aren’t always gonna be repeated.

After all, repeating story beats make the rest of the potential chapters predictable

& I doubt Toby’s gonna be doing that…

Anyway uh

That’s all for now.

…

Ya know

Aside from how we finally got concrete confirmation that monsters bleed (so the whole “when you kill sans, you cut through some ketchup he had hidden away to make it look like blood” debate no longer matters)

Ralsai directly addressing how there MUST be another ending to their story (& suggesting that Toby’s “one ending” claim may be tied to the prophecy specifically)

Dead monsters having the capacity to be “revived” in the dark world, even if we can never be sure if it’s really “them”

THE FUCKING SNOWGRAVE CONTINUATION SCENE IN CHAPTER 4

LIKE HOLY SHIT

But that last one’s for another time

… probably.

For now, imma just

Close off my ramblings here before I spend another 2 hours of my day talking about how these two chapters absolutely DESTROYED my brain.

[jhyoos]

Idk why but I’m really feeling a streamer!vi x fem reader smut 🤨 .

i haven’t really done smut before but i can try!

streamer vi! x streamer! reader

summary : vi fingers you while she lets you play on stream.

mentions : smut with a lil plot, modern au, fame au, plot twist, lowkey loser! vi

Vi had been a well-known name in the streaming world for a while, skyrocketing to fame after her The Last of Us playthrough went viral. Her genuine reactions, quick wit, and undeniable charm—along with the fact that she was, undeniably, hot—made her an internet sensation. Meanwhile, you had carved out your own space in the streaming community, building a dedicated following through your high-energy Roblox horror game playthroughs. People loved watching you scream at pixelated jumpscares, and your frequent collaborations with other big-name streamers only expanded your reach.

Your paths crossed during a crossover event that neither of you expected to lead anywhere—but after that first collaboration, you never stopped talking. Texting turned into late-night calls, which turned into video chats, and before you knew it, months had passed, and you'd both fallen hard. Moving in together felt like the natural next step, and soon, you found yourselves in a shared apartment with two separate, decked-out streaming rooms.

It was Vi who first suggested the idea of a joint stream. Just one game, babe. The internet’s gonna lose its mind. You didn’t need much convincing, and the next thing you knew, you were live on her channel, settled comfortably on her lap as you navigated the latest chapter of Poppy’s Playtime. Vi, however, wasn’t nearly as focused on the game as she was on you. Every time you hit a checkpoint, she pressed a slow, teasing kiss to your shoulder, her smirk widening at the way your concentration wavered. When you struggled with a puzzle, her hand slid over yours, guiding your movements effortlessly—but she didn’t pull away after helping. Instead, her fingers intertwined with yours, her chin resting on your shoulder as she murmured a low, “You got this, babe,” just for you.

The chat went absolutely feral.

The teasing started slow—just little touches that could’ve been innocent if not for the way Vi’s fingers lingered a little too long. At first, it was just her hands resting on your thighs, a casual, almost absentminded gesture as she watched you play. But then her fingers started tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin, inching higher with every passing minute.

You swallowed hard, your focus wavering as she casually slipped her fingers between your thighs, applying the slightest bit of pressure. Instinctively, you parted your legs just a little, the movement barely noticeable—but Vi noticed. Of course, she did.

Your breathing grew heavier, the game on the screen blurring in and out of focus as her fingertips skimmed dangerously close to where you were beginning to ache for more. But when you flicked your gaze toward her, expecting to find her watching you with that signature smirk, she wasn’t even looking at you.

Her face was the picture of nonchalance, her eyes glued to the computer screen as if she weren’t doing anything at all. As if she weren’t driving you absolutely insane.

You continued to focus on the game, looking at the chat every now and then and interacting with them. “Yeah I’ve never played this game before. Vi did the other ch—ah!,” you gasped as you felt Vi’s hand go into your panties.

Thankfully, something that was jumpscare worthy popped up on the screen covering up your gasp. Vi looked at you “You okay?,” she says innocently. You looked at her with a nod “Y-yeah,” you say. She took that as a sign to continue as she rubbed circles onto your clit, kissing your shoulder. You cleared your throat, trying to cover up the moan that almost escaped as you continued to play the game.

Your walls clenched around nothing as you tried your best to focus on the game as Vi continued to play with your bundle of nerves, creating a pool in your panties. “Fuck…,” you let out a moan, trying to cover it up as a sigh of frustration. “Just focus, baby. You got this,” she says.

She getting off on this as much as you were, grinding up against your ass slightly trying not to let the viewers see. The feeling soon stop, relief rushed over you but it was soon short lived when two fingers went inside of you. You bit your lip as you tried not to moan.

“Vi…,” you say shakily as she starts to pump her fingers in and out of you slowly. There were faint sounds of wetness from your arousal bring swished around with her fingers. It couldn’t be heard because of the game sounds. Vi used her other hand to help you with the game, putting her hand on top of yours. “There you go,” she says.

You didn’t know if she was talking about the game or you.

You continued to play the game as she slowly pumped in and out of your cunt. You leaned over slightly which made her fingers reach the spongy part of your insides, you unexpectedly let out a moan.

The chat started to explode wondering why you moaned. “I…hit my toe on the monitor,” you said. You bite your lip as you continued the game, this time Vi’s fingers didn’t move.

You needed them to move.

You took a quick peek at her and she only gave you a smile, a knowing one.

Suddenly, her fingers started to move faster than what they did before. You automatically clenched against them, but that didn’t stop the pace of her fingers.

You bite your lip as you try to focus on the game but then Vi spoke up. “We’re gonna continue this later tonight, you guys. Thank you for watching and remember to turn on your notifications for when I go live again,” she says before pulling her hand out of your shorts and ending the live.

She immediately attacked your lips with hers as she wrapped her hand around your neck, pulling you closer than what you already were. “Fuck. You’re so hot,” she says in between the kisses.

You thought she was going to go in for another kiss until she moved her hand from your neck and started to kiss your neck, leaving marks.

Her fingers made its way back into your cunt as she started to finger you at a fast pace, her thumb rubbing your clit. You moan loudly, it almost sounded pornographic as you put both of your legs on the desk, spreading them wider for her.

“You’re such a slut. Letting me finger you while we’re live. You enjoyed it didn’t you?,” she teased.

“Vi!,” you managed to get out. It was the only thing you could respond with besides your whines and moans. You were getting close and Vi knew from how tightly you were clenching to her fingers.

“Come on. Cum for me, pretty girl,” she says in your ear before harshly biting it. It only sent you over the edge.

“Fuck!,” you moaned out loudly as you came around her fingers. Vi’s pace slowed down as she helped you calm down from your high.

You whined when she finally pulled her fingers out, putting them in her mouth as she sucked your arousal off her fingers. When she was done, she grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. You kissed her back.

ping!

The sound made you guys both stop in your actions. You looked over at the computer. The camera was off, but the audio was still going.

The stream was still on.

Fuck.

“Vi! I thought you said you ended it!,” you said hitting her in the chest.

if you don’t like it…you can punch me in the tit.

REQUEST ARE OPEN !!

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ The Jackpot

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: You join Arthur and the boys for a job on the Grand Korrigan riverboat where you act as Arthur’s lap girl. The man in question is more than excited about this decision. ✦ Warnings: Guns, mention of shooting, swearing, SMUT, oral (reader receiving), edging if you squint, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 3,8k ✦ a/n: A big heartwarming thank you to @zae-heeyyy!! Who took the time to correct my dumb spelling and give me her thoughts on this before publishing it! Please go check her work, I swear it won't disappoint! Also: pictures are not mine! I usually try to use a pic for Arthur from my own playthrough but I'm fcking stuck on Guarma rn. Found them on Pinterest.

Dim lights are flickering all around you, making the golden ornaments of the luxurious place you're in shine like a thousand stars. You couldn't believe this gigantic reception room, gratified by a bar, a grand piano, and of course, three elegant poker tables, was actually floating on water right now, as you were on the Grand Korrigan boat, the jewel of its kind, den of the richest gentlemen in St. Denis, in search for some amusement and of course, even more money.

Trelawny and Herr Strauss had plotted a well-crafted deal that could earn a lot of money for the gang. Along with Javier disguised as one of the guards, Arthur would act as a new wealthy businessman who had just made a fortune in oil. Strauss would give him signals during his poker game, which guaranteed him to win considering Trelawny had made a friend out of the dealer.

You? You'd play his mistress, sitting on his lap during the game to make the scene look more convincing. On top of that, you had been able to hide a little gun in a hidden pocket in the underside of your dress, guaranteeing some extra protection, which wasn't a bad idea considering the Grand Korrigan was heavily armed and neither Arthur, Trelawny nor Strauss had one.

So here you were, thriving in your role, comfortably sitting on Arthur's lap, hands wrapped around his neck, both legs hanging on his left side. His arms were enveloping you, hands resting on the edge of the table as he was focusing on his cards.

Well, more like trying to focus, actually.

Maybe it was because you two had started a quite passionate relationship a few weeks ago, sneaking in each other's tent, simple kisses and whispers in the night quickly turning into something more, the both of you having cravings to fulfill.

Maybe it was because Trelawny, the damned man, had chosen a particularly suggestive dress for you to wear, comforting your play considering wives weren't allowed at the poker tables, only work girls and such, your cleavage on full display for his immoral eyes.

Maybe it was the way he could feel the round and warm flesh of your ass even through the fabric of your clothes, right where he wanted to, making his brain impossible to function properly, desperately trying to keep the hardness between his legs to stay in line.

Either way, Arthur had to make enormous efforts to focus on the job and was frankly relieved Strauss was telling him what to do; despite being a pretty good poker player, he would never have been able to win the easiest of games in this state.

Strauss told him to go all-in. He did. You smiled, you would have lied saying you weren't enjoying yourself right now. You had known far worse jobs than playing Arthur's lover. Much to your surprise, he had played a really convincing character through the night too, his usual mumbling far gone, replaced by a bright and confident speech and a cheeky grin that was making you want to kiss it even more. In fact, you wanted to take care of him just to see this cocky smirk flatter under your touch, replaced by a pleasured expression on his handsome face.

It was easy to say both of you were acting pretty good, but inside felt like two teenagers in love.

Arthur had won another hand, men were starting to leave the table, angry. It was only you both and the target now, an opulent man known as Desmond Blythe, loaded with money thanks to his hosiery business.

You pulled a cigarette out of Arthur's pocket along with a match, and you felt his breath hitch for an instant when you slipped your hand in it. Rubbing the match against the wood of the table, you lighted the cigarette casually, little flame illuminating a thin grin on your lips. You took a small drag on it to make sure the tobacco had plainly burnt, then you placed the cigarette in front of Arthur's lips, holding it for him between your index and middle finger, so that he could smoke on it while keeping both his hands on his cards.

It was downright one of the hottest things anybody had done to him and he was starting to lose it. Wrapping his lips around your offering and smoking a long drag, he allowed himself to avert his gaze from his opponent for a few seconds, planting his turquoise pupils into yours.

His eyes were half-lidded, long lashes accentuating the languorous gaze he was giving you. Your heart started racing. The power this man had on you was insane, but if only you knew what you were doing to him in return. You had a glimpse of it though, right there in the depths of his two blue diamonds, this so distinctive dark glow of him, direct window on the sinful pit of his urges.

You were sure your own eyes were mirroring it. And it got worse when, after exhaling some smoke, he quickly kissed the palm of your hand, indicating he had smoked enough, the warm sensation of his chapped lips on your skin giving you goosebumps. His eyes went back to Blythe, and you exhaled as if you had been holding your breath during the whole time you had locked eyes.

You retrieved your hand, taking a drag yourself on the cigarette after him, loving the idea of sharing it with him, of putting your lips right where he did a few seconds before, your biased brain telling you you could taste sweet remnants of him there.

Another all-in, another hand won by Arthur who couldn't stop himself from smiling this sly cocky smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Shit, shit!" Blythe shouted, hitting on the table with his fists furiously.

"I guess ma luck held... Is that you done?" Arthur asked him, his tone triumphant while bending over the table to gather his not-so-well-deserved chips. "Or, do you got somethin' else to play with?" He added more lowly, his baritone voice almost making you shiver just hearing it.

"Meaning?" Desmond questioned back, visibly frustrated. Looked like frustration was a popular feeling around this poker table tonight, about the game or other things...

Arthur had gotten up from his chair and you too, now standing by his side, partially glued to his body as he had snaked an arm around your waist while finishing to put in order his chips. He answered using the same taunting, arrogant tone as before.

"Well, I heard there was some big boys on this boat, maybe that's not you, no offense-"

"Sit your and your whore's hillbilly asses down." The rich men cut him off, voice dark and serious.

You felt Arthur's hand grip tighter on your waist. For a faint moment, you thought that his cover would collapse, considering how tense he had gotten hearing him calling you a whore. But the way he was still smiling was almost even more scary, it was a false, threatening one. The kind of smile that hides a cold anger, boiling silently inside.

"Why?" Arthur simply answered, tone brilliantly contained considering the way his muscles were flexing on their own under his fancy suit.

"I got a watch... An expensive one, swiss... a Reutlinger no less. It's in the safe, upstairs. It's worth more than you."

You forced yourself not to cross eyes with Arthur. Your target. He had just confirmed what you were all here for. Perfect, just a bit more of this whole play and Arthur would be able to access the strongbox.

"Okay, I trust ya." Arthur consented while sitting back on his chair, placing you with his two big hands back at your place, on his lap. You were definitely loving this job. You'd have to thank Trelawny for it, someday.

The rest of the game passed just like before, your outlaw ultimately winning once more thanks to your colleague's little trick. Desmond was furious, and you obtained your goal.

Arthur happily got up once again, gently helping you stand, one of his hands naturally resting on your shoulder. Before following the gentleman who was supposed to bring him to the safe, he bent over to you, head brushing against yours, his stubble and hairs tickling your cheeks. He whispered in your ear, voice deep and hoarse, this one voice that was always making your head turn.

"When we're finished here, I'm gonna take care of ya, darlin'."

You sighed, cracking up a sly smirk, your cheeks turning a bit red. These simple words were enough to make the heat between your thighs make itself known; crying out for attention. Being so close like this was allowing you to breathe in his scent, its combination on top of his breath on your ear was a dangerous mix for your sanity. You took the opportunity of having his skin so close to your lips to place a small kiss on his neck, right below his own ear.

Arthur smiled at you, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he took a last look at you before walking off. You sighed softly again, already missing his presence. The wait for some time alone was only making your own needs grow.

You were only hoping the job would end up smoothly.

Of course, it didn't. 

Desmond, sore loser, had accused Arthur of cheating. That and the fact that the guard Javier had knocked off to steal his clothes had appeared out of nowhere yelling to shoot him had set things on fire on the Grand Korrigan, the boat now witness to a heated shooting the Van Der Linde Gang was known for.

You had instantly pulled out your hidden gun and helped Arthur clean up the place thanks to Javier who had thrown him a rifle. The night had ended with your incongruous team jumping straight in the water, swimming back to the shore, a quite odd and armed to the teeth fish shoal. At least, everyone was alive, and you even had obtained a pretty decent amount of money, not even mentioning the watch Strauss had authenticated as a real Reutlinger. Arthur had quickly taken back the precious object from his greedy hands, "well give it back then", which made you laugh to yourself.

True to himself, your cowboy had instructed everyone to separate and get out of the shore, as always after a job. You were all quite a sight, soaked to the bones. As you were greeting everyone a good night, Arthur silently walked to you and grabbed your hand. Even with the water you both had leaking from your clothes to your skin, you could feel how warm his hand was, contrasting yours which was completely freezing cold from having swam in the icy waters. You wondered if this man was even human.

"But you, Miss, are comin' with me." He playfully informed you, not leaving you any choice.

It was not as if you wanted to go anywhere else anyway.

"Really now? What d'ya have in mind, cowboy?" You asked him with an equally mischievous tone on your own, your eye glued to the way his hair looked completely soaked, subtle rivulets sliding all the way from it to his neck.

"Maybe we could pay ourselves a well-deserved night in town..." He proposed, voice turning more and more into a low growl as he was letting his desires take the lead on his reason.

"I would love that." You simply agreed, before getting closer to him, tilting your head up to bring your lips to his. He gladly let you, one hand still holding yours, the other gently landing on the side of your face.

The walk to the La Bastille Saloon was supposed to be a short one, but you both looked like you couldn't wait to be there before teasing each other. You would sometimes stop walking to just attack his neck, lips merciless as you sucked and kissed him there. Your taunting acts were often met with his equally heated answer, one of his palms ending on your ass, or your thighs, your wet clothes transparent and glued to your curves not helping him to keep his touch away from these places of your body. Arthur's breath sharpened as he called you his lil minx, and no, darlin’, we can't just do it on the streets.

Finally, after having shocked the barman by arriving at such late hours in completely soaked clothes, which honestly just made the both of you laugh mischievously, you reached your love nest for the night.

And what a nest! Silk sheets, canopy bed, sumptuous decor glistening with the dim lights of the chandeliers. Even the floor looked comfortable, carpeted with some fancy patterns, matching the couch and bed's color. Red, just like passion, just like lust. Red, like the color of your cheeks right now as Arthur had closed the door and was already on his knees, placing you on the edge of the mattress. Red, just like what Arthur was seeing right now, hungry hands pulling your dress up, positioning himself between your thighs.

You looked down at him, his darkened eyes looking at you. You noticed he had ripped off his fancy tie, needing to breathe properly, the heat between you both already making him suffocate. In those moments, his beautiful pupils were always shining with a more murky color, his usual sky blue turning into a more cobalt one. They were staring intensely into yours, expression questioning. A silent demand. You nodded positively, quietly answering. Dooming yourself.

The moment you did, he buried his head between your legs, left hand resting on your hip, holding you gently. His lips started kissing softly on the fabric of your undergarments. His other hand quickly came, helping him in his task by pulling it to the side, granting him access.

The moment his lips met your folds, you let out a moan, unable to resist the feeling he was giving you. He was loving it, his ears getting redder as he was more and more aroused himself. He was so big between your thighs, his shoulders were spreading them almost completely open.

He licked in a long, slow movement all the way to the top of your pussy, making you sigh in pleasure already, hips jerking against his head, begging for more.

"Easy, girl... I've got ya." He soothed you hoarsely, left hand holding you more firmly to prevent you from crushing him totally. Nevertheless, he took your eagerness into account; he couldn't deny you anything. Not when it came to sex. Not when you were so beautiful in this ostentatious dress. Not when he had grown more and more found of you, even if he was refusing to admit it to himself completely for now.

He brought his lips on the top of your core, tongue gently circling around this so special knot of nerves, his stubble scratching pleasantly against your skin, bringing you even more sensations.

It was already so good, Arthur's mouth showing you no pity, licking, sucking, kissing, as if you were becoming the only food he could ever feast on, the only oxygen he could breathe with. The sight of his broken nose buried beneath your skin, as if he was searching to go even deeper within you was almost too much for you to handle. Your hands that were gripping the sheets had now found the top of his head, spurring him to continue, please please please, Arthur, more, or you could have died right here on the fancy bed of the La Bastille Saloon.

Arthur's tongue answered your begging call, lapping your sensitive spot faster, harder. How the Hell was that man so good at pleasuring a woman? That, sinful, dirty man, just like the sounds you were letting out right now.

Your vision started to blur, the back of your head sinking onto the mattress, your back arching deliciously, and you were going to let him know just how close you were until he stopped all of a sudden.

"A-Arthur!" You protested, head snapping back at him, eyes pleading, tone both offended and needy as his name had sounded more like a whine when it had felt from your mouth.

He smiled cockily at you from where he was, his mouth looking wet with your arousal. He loved it, he loved being responsible for it.

"I'm here, girl... I jus' need ya too much right now. Lemme just..."

His voice was now a low rumble, coming from the depth of his chest. You watched as he quickly ripped off his clothes with little care for them. Trelawny would have shouted at how he was treating one of the most expensive suits he had ever brought.

But he didn't care about the suit. And neither do you, as your eyes were devouring every inch of his flesh that was appearing under them. The sight of a completely naked Arthur always had the same effect on you, no matter how many times you already had seen it.

His muscular body looked like it had been carved by Angels. No, more likely by an angry, dark God, who would have sculpted him from a hard and brutal material, his many scars and blurs a remnant of it. You could almost picture his tools molding your lover's broad chest and shoulders with sharp, furious hammer blows. His powerful arms and legs had received the same treatment, as if the deity wanted to pass on all of his brutal force into his creation. And his cock was definitely no exception to it.

And yet, this massive force of nature was blushing under your gaze. He couldn't have resisted the hurtful sensation of emptiness around his shaft, one of his hands now giving himself a few strokes to try and relieve some of it. His eyes closed in a frown for a few seconds, your pussy burned at this unholy scenery he was offering you.

You were in such a state of need it was almost depraved. You quickly got rid of your own clothes, tossing them somewhere on the floor of the room, needing to share this intimacy with him, to feel his skin against yours.

"Oh, please... Arthur, jus' take me..." You asked yourself before he could probe your adequation. You knew him well now, you already knew the next words he was going to speak would be another demand to make sure you truly wanted this.

He seemed to enjoy how you had forecasted it, his eyes opening again to look at you, his cock hardening even more, precum slowly leaking from its top, wasting all the efforts he had done to relieve it a bit.

"If that's what you want darlin'... I'm your man." He answered in a growl, climbing next to you on the bed.

You weren't sure why but his last words had made your heart swell in your chest. You were sure, deep down inside of you, that he meant it in another way. He really had become yours, and you, his. Lost in your thoughts, you let him handle you gently, placing you on your belly against the silk sheets, lying himself on top of you, legs between yours.

You slightly moved your rear up against his erection, earning a grunt of pleasure from him. Saying he had loved it was an understatement; he had been thinking about doing this with you since you had sat on him on the riverboat.

Using his right hand, he placed his cock against your entrance, and finally started pushing, your pussy already ready for him thanks to his ministrations, your mouth mewling at the sensation. Your perfect, hot walls were finally enveloping him, and he tried his best not to come just from that intense feeling alone.

He was so big and tall behind you, his head could reach yours and he buried it onto the crook of your neck, his hair still wet offering you a cold feel, contrasting with his whole hot chest pressed on your back, making you feel as if a literal inferno was burning it. He slowly started to pull back, only to shove himself in you again, starting a slow but intense back and forth.

"God, damn it... 'Feel so good girl..." He mumbled against your skin, his arms encircling you from both sides, caging you under his tall figure.

You sighed at his praise, wanting to answer something to compliment him back, but he snapped his hips just at the same time, making you shut your eyes close, and moan louder than before. Your voice was starting to crack under the amount of pleasure he was bringing to you, hard shaft brushing this deep spot within your core every time his hips moved, hitting just right where you needed him to.

He had noticed, and it was only making him lose his mind even more, unable to keep his pace slow, letting his body unleashed. He had waited this whole night to bury himself in you, listened to this moron calling you names without having the right to punch his goddamn idiotic face. He couldn't hold anything back anymore.

He started thrusting more frantically, pistoning his cock in and out of you so fast and hard he was now fucking you onto the bed. His right hand grabbed a fistful of your ass, the feeling of it colliding with his pelvis with every thrust making him insane, the other one next to your left shoulder, preventing him from crushing you completely.

You could feel it, the familiar feeling, the divine relief, building more and more thanks to him, the pace increasing your pleasure. Feeling how impossibly hard his sex had gotten in your cunt, you knew he was close too. This simple fact was the last push to your deliverance.

"A-Arthur! God, yes!" You screamed, unable to form any coherent thoughts, existing simply for this, for this moment with him, naked on the bed of this saloon. Just you and him.

"Oh, darlin’, shit!" Your orgasm had made your walls clench even more around his dick, exploding his limit. He quickly removed himself from you, and finished at the last second on your back and ass, his burning release painting your skin in flaming spurts. His very own sinful art piece.

The room felt silent again. The air stifling from your lovemaking, the only sounds being heard were your sharp, quickened breaths. Arthur took a few seconds to collect himself, feeling better and so satisfied, almost euphoric. Turning your head to the side, you took a glimpse of your lover's gorgeous state. Hair messy, cheeks and ears crimson, sweat dripping everywhere on his skin, chest rising and falling in big, profound exhales.

He then grabbed a piece of fabric from one of the wardrobes to gently wipe off his seed from you, and tossed it away, wanting nothing more but to rest against you now. A perfect contrast, from an agitated, stormy sea to a quiet, secret cove. As if you were the only one who could see him like this, vulnerable, loving even.

You watched him lay by your side on his back, your head still feeling dizzy, slowly coming back from a world of fantasies. You snuggled against him, resting your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, feeling spent but so, so happy. And you felt the same. Still naked, skin against skin, heart beating together, just the two of you.

Tonight had been quite something, and despite having won a few thousand dollars, it was definitely not money that was making Arthur feel like he had hit the jackpot.